#I still have my other friends so it's fine ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatelys · 3 days ago

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as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #mine #aaron hotchner

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yailtsv · 3 days ago

Text

Secret - p.b

💌 Syn: Azzi’s younger sister dates one of their teammates behind Azzi’s back

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i hate how this one turned out 🤠

»»— word count: 917

»»— pair: Paige x Fudd!Gfreader

“shhh we gotta be quiet” you tell paige after she knocked something off of your dresser when sneaking in

paige just ignores you and picks up what she dropped and then closed and locked your bedroom door - heading towards you.

you and azzi share a dorm together with caroline, carols asleep and azzi’s in her room doing homework, so what did you do? called your girlfriend to come over

but…said girlfriend has to sneak in because you both are hiding your relationship. azzi would not approve of your relationship and you both aren’t gonna ask your teammates to lie for you so you can be public around them, that’s just insane.

so that gets you to where you are right now - watching paige get clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser, and then changing into those clothes

“movie and cuddles?” paige asked after putting the clothes she just took off, onto your desk chair for her to grab when she leaves

you nod, already getting in your bed and under the covers, making paige do the same

you both fell asleep watching the movie, all cuddled up together. but you both woke up to consistent knocking, only waking up fully when you heard azzi say through the door “alright fine i’m using the key” making both of you sit up startled, but before you could move and push paige into your closet the door had opened and in walked azzi.

you could see azzi’s facial expression change, you could tell when she put the scene in front of her together in her brain, you could also see the look of hurt and betrayal all across her face

“az-“ “no! do not say anything!” she tells you before turning to face paige “you’re sleeping with my sister? AFTER i told you she was off limits?”

paige doesn’t really know what to say. azzi’s right, she did tell paige that you were off limits - and has been telling her since paige and azzi first met - which was years ago. paige did follow through with that, up until last year.

she never showed she was attracted to you - she was even in denial with her feelings for you. she always treated you as a friend - a very close friend but a friend.

she never thought you and her would eventually become a thing, she always fully intended to keep you at arms length - so that azzi wouldn’t be mad at her.

she’s not really sure on the time stamp of when she accepted her feelings, but whenever it was, was one of the greatest days. the even better day, was when she finally decided to do something with her feelings - that’s the day you guys started dating.

you and her have been dating for a little over a year now. she thought you guys wouldn’t be caught this far along, and she was wrong, and she’s having a difficult time on swallowing this pill.

“az- i’m sorry” paige stutters out, kinda overwhelmed with this situation “YOU’RE sorry?! you can date anyone in the world, and you chose the ONE person that i said was off limits, and you’re sorry?!”

“azzi i’m an adult, i can date who i want to date.” you tell her, wanting this conversation to be over

“you’re also my little sister dating MY best friend.” azzi responded back, still mad about the situation “why are you making it sound like she’s not my friend too? we’re all teammates, we’re all friends, we didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we knew you were gonna act like this.”

“act like what?! i told both of you that i didn’t want you guys to ever date each other and look what’s happening now! you guys couldn’t of just respected that wish? i don’t ask anything of either of you but the one thing i do, you go behind my back and do it any ways?”

“azzi that’s not fair-“ paige starts but got cut off “fair?! you wanna talk about being fair?” “if you would let me talk that would be great!” paige said after cutting azzi off

azzi stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest looking at paige expectingly “go on”

“we both did what you asked. we ignored each other romantically until last year, we spent all of our time together since me and you met at arms length, we’ve done everything, and unexpectedly fell for each other in that time. we are both adults, we can both do what we want - and what we want is to be with each other. you can’t stop us from dating, we’ve respected your wish this whole time but you never say why we can’t date you just say to not date, and that’s not fair at all. if your gonna forbid us from doing something at least tell us why. and until you can come up with a good reason - we’re gonna continue seeing each other”

azzi just looks at paige, her arms still crossed over her chest “i love her” paige replied again after a few moments of silence

azzi doesn’t say anything but after a few seconds walks out the door and back to her room. you and paige both make eye contact before sighing out loud

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

requested on wattpad

#paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn x fem reader #uconn x reader #wnba x reader #yailtsv’s works 📝

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invisiblue · 2 days ago

Text

Also felt like sharing an old list of vine that i have:

you want a treat? yas YAS

merry crisis merry crysler

1 thing worst than a rapist

mouthwash shots (luke vines)

rebecca is not what u thinking

drugs owl

run umbrella

my imortal black cat

red dress lana del rey chicken

is that a weed? Im calling the police 911

ipot microwave snoopy dog

2 bros chilling

im still a piece of garbage

the flock is in the air

pepe the frog - hello darkness my old friend

and they were roomates

Its a fucking bear (all around me are familiar...)

vaccum cleanner shes a maniac

thts free water hotel

road work a head yeah

AA AAA AAAA bateries

black panther blows paws psipsispsi

ttttttarget

hello hello hello teacher

what are those? CrocksD,

that was legitness

country boy i lov u :p

if you love me let me gooo grass

Jared 19 i dont know how 2 read

bring the beeties any thing for u beyonce

im michael with a b, where is the b?

3 dinos crawling in my skin

thx Obama

helium balloon car

helium balloon church

2 girls michael jackson walking

brandon whats num1? bitch I dont give a f

UKs look its the fucking rain

Goofy Goof wake me up

goat dont you yell at your mom

guardiam of the sand fuck off

look at this graph

fuck that shit im out

what the fuck photo/calculator in a show

im lesbian a thought u were american

This bitch is empty yeet

a piss of your water, its vodka, its vinegar

look at all of those chickens

cooking lady 2 shots of vodka

sounds trapped in your mind yoga

bible studies we're all children of jesus

lets go to the beach beach nicki minjaj

avocado guaca mole guaca guacamole

child throws doll law and order SVU

lipstick in my valentino white bag

*sneeze* nice ron

lebron james

oh drink this vodka dumbass skyy

false rat supermarket is it real

yaaa yaaahh boy basketball ball head

omg is that alowded? couple hugging

welcome to jesus line youre alive

whoever trow that paper your mom is a whore

BICTH

ADAM

we’re breaking free

little girl wii sports

birds running away from wave

jonny has 19 bootle of soup mind yo business

is that a chicken (little pig)

hurricane katrina more like hurricane tortilla

and omg colesterol

im librarian

cockroach you need jesus

i wash me in my clothes

2 free tacos

pasta in the pocket

anything better than pussy a rly good book

can i pls get a waffle

0,69 cents not enough for chicken nuggets

4 female ghostbuster feminists are over

kevin kevin watch the light dude

nacho credit card transaction complete

you mess with my truck

oriental lady with her cat

scrolling insta declaration of independence

make me yoyo man but the yoyo master

ask me what kind of tree we have

ωσω smoke

guy bottle flips glass of water

dont tell your mother DIE FOR EACH OTHER

piano SAIL

hum, shithead? Its Shafi

blink once if youre hitler omg

lollipop snake (take me away)

10M point for griffinpuff

who is that pokemon? its pikachu/ cleafary

COD: BOIII - Awekening

little dog with italian flag (italian music)

hahaha i do that

duck youre just like your father

why dont we just relax? turn on the radio

go back to sleep and starve

love yourself accept yourself

wtf kyle step the fuck up

cute carnivorous plant xtmas

little dog running sofa all around me...

jesus car take the wheel

watch your language jesus car

im 11 so shut the fuck up

round and round rihanna bathtub

how do you feel about the corner dog

its time to wake up noo penguin seadog

you have to say that youre fine

if your name is junior raise your hand

do inch worm like to party?

inch worm dancing fast

kidnaping in school its okay he woke up

little girl car its gonna eat you omg

boys gets his free taco who can say

frying pan naruto sound

2 girls dancing store alarm

i smell like beef

pumped kids vine

*mission impossible music* camera spoted

PATRICIA honey can u be quiet

jonh bbq and foot massage

my impression of britsh driver

am i a womf

hipism that was magestic

happy birthday raven i cant swin

4x4 = 16

jurassic park mom and baby screaming

sony logo

photosinthesis hacked

not being racist i love goat cheese

what a those? converse dino jurassic park

tampons? TAMPONS

oh for fuck sake oh for fuck sake

bitch call me ugly i sad bitch where? muslin

yas Yas YASSS dinos jurassic world

cat walking car horn ☆ive been feeling☆

how did u kill cap ameri? shield size of a plate

guy making phone sounds

rapper guy looking in the dictionary imposs

mission imposs little hamster

40% sale/sail music

ladie lipsinging car

u feel so nice dino toy petting real cat

little puppy runnig shoe store

guy scooter never gonna dance again

trump know a lot about truck binbinbinbin

yungman grave

Liam Neeson vine

iridocyclitis

topic out of question permission denied next

we are in this together political discurso

old lady what are they saying

shaking my head shaking my head

hey dont you want to be famous?

I should have left u... But you didnt

fuck off janet im not going to your bby shower

chillary clinton, im just chilling

any spirits here, this sounds like shakira?

10 people died in a fire last night news

verified in twitter but are u in the eyes of god

i want ro be president slavery legal again

cheerleader and mascor together

*shoot* thats why mom doesnt love u

cowgirl boot fucking bitch DISGUSTING

little kitty keyboard xxxxxxxxx

im from every continent in africa

car sound made by instrument

girl walking away kitchen dad upset

girlfriend take a real gun from game

move im gay

faces eating faces disagreeing

thats not correct according to encyclopedia...

zack stop za stop

freestyle dance teacher

rip u face off, what did he do? He f pushed me

on all levels expect physical im a wolf

we all die u either kill yourself or get killed

shaved my eyebrows i...d...k

my birthday gift on my birthday present

cheese of thruth immigrants cause cancer

guy driving dancing classic music girl filming

woman full cigarettes cherif

naruto run university

Soup for my family

#the way i can say all of these as it was 😭#road work ahead is too iconic #lets not forget about merry crisis merry chrysler

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witherby · 3 days ago

Note

LW first crush??? Or first time being crushed on???

👉👈

I love it when the hive mind comes together 🤝

Listen, I took the general concept of what you guys are asking for and made this. It's 4100+ words. Don't look at me 🙈

Littlest Wayne: Piety

Masterlist is Here!

"True piety hath in it nothing weak, nothing sad, nothing constrained. It enlarges the heart; it is simple, free, and attractive." - Francois Fenelon

Growing up in a family of rich people moonlighting as vigilantes, you're more than used to chaos. Secret-keeping, combat training, socializing with the Gotham Elite, and helping your grandfather patch up one of your brothers or parents after patrol are some of the routine shenanigans you have to deal with on a regular basis, and you aren't even a vigilante yourself.

School is supposed to be your little slice of normalcy, where you can decompress as a civilian amongst other civilians. Just go to class, talk to your friends, and maybe participate in an extracurricular if you want! That's it! Nice and simple! You love it when things are nice and simple!

So the fact that a gang of arsonists are currently holding your class hostage during a field trip to Metropolis Conservatory and threatening to burn down everything and everyone inside, is really fucking annoying you!!

"Hi, dad," you mumble into your backup cellphone. The arsonists took everyone's phones when they raided the conservatory, but Bruce made you keep two on hand for this exact scenario. "Don't freak out. There's a —"

"I know." He sounds freaked out. You barely suppress a sigh. "It's on the news. Clark is off-world with Hal or you'd be safe by now. ETA is twenty minutes for me, and 17 for Jason. Are you hurt?"

"No," you whisper, "they haven't done anything yet. I'm in the Butterfly Garden with my —"

You quiet down when one of the men turns and makes eye contact with you. You hunch over and press your hands against your head as though frightened, but you're trying to keep your cellphone concealed.

Bruce calls your name, audibly stressed. You can hear his car picking up speed on the highway. You click your tongue to reassure him you're fine. When the man looks away again, you relax a bit.

"There's at least five of them," you whisper as softly as possible. "Probably more. The lighting isn't bright or dim enough to cast shadows in here."

Overcast days are your biggest pet peeve. The level of darkness required to manipulate shadows is lax, but for some reason, the very rare occasions in which a space is simultaneously too light and too dark make it impossible to use your ability. You can see shadows being cast on the floor. You can feel them, even. But they aren't solid enough to control. It's like trying to stop water from slipping through your fingers; it works for a minute until you inevitably watch it seep through the spaces in between.

"No talking!" One of the men barks. You exhale slowly and keep still.

"You're gonna be fine. Stay calm and do everything they ask of you," Bruce says. "I'm entering the city now, and Jason is thirteen minutes out. We'll be there as soon as possible."

You click your tongue again, then hang up and slip the phone up your jacket sleeve. You hug your waist and draw your knees up, scowling at the dirt underneath you like it's personally responsible for what's going on right now.

A dark hand reaches over to clutch your arm. You glance to your right to spot Chiffon, your best friend, frowning worriedly at you.

"You okay?" She mouths. You nod and place your hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Are you?" You mouth back. She nods as well. She doesn't seem frightened so much as irritated. Chiffon told you on the bus ride over that she was wearing all new clothes for the field trip, and now the two of you are sitting on the ground with your other classmates so it's likely dirtying them up.

"Are ya done yet!? How long does it take to swap out a fucking flag..." One of the arsonists complains into a radio on his hip. "I'm gettin' itchy, man. I don't even care about the message anymore; I need to feel the heat. I need to see somethin' burn before some dumbass Meta shows up and ruins the fun. I'm about to just strike my matchbook!"

Oh, shit. That was good news and bad news. Good, because fire casts shadows you can manipulate. Bad, because the arsonists also have guns, and you might not be able to subdue them all before one gets a lucky shot off. You have a soft, squishy body and no kevlar to protect it right now, which your family routinely complains about every time you leave the house. The vindication on their faces after this is gonna suck hard.

"The flag's up!" The radio crackles. You and your classmates tense up. "Light this joint!"

The three arsonists in the butterfly room with you pick up the cans at their feet and start pouring the contents out. The sharp smell of gasoline hits your nose and your classmates start complaining and shouting at them to stop.

"You're not actually doing this, right!?"

"Oh my god...oh my god!"

"Hey! Burn down whatever building you want, but let us out first you psychos!!"

"I was gonna skip school today. I wish I had!"

"I don't wanna die!!"

One of the men takes out a gun and fires a round into the ceiling. Colors whip around you as the butterflies all take off in a flurry. There's some brief shrieking and screaming, which makes you cover your ears, but when he starts aiming at your classmates, everybody gets quiet real fast, nothing but quick breathing and wingbeats disturbing the peace.

"Good," he sneers. "Listen here, you little squealers: it's your very unlucky day today. We staked out this spot until we knew Superman wouldn't be here t'save the day, and that just so happened to coincide with your stupid field trip. We're sendin' a message to that alien freak to stop meddling in human affairs, and you all get the honor of contributing to that message."

"Who's ready to be martyrs!!" The second one shouts, splashing gasoline in yours and your classmates' direction.

You gasp and scramble to your feet when your arm and shoulder gets splashed. You tug Chiffon up and usher her behind you, scowling. Your temper flares, made worse by your current inability to stop any of this from happening, and despite your father's warnings you begin lashing out.

"That doesn't make any sense, dumbass!" You snap.

"The fuck'd you say?" The man growls. Your pulse jackknifes, heart hammering wildly in your chest, but you don't falter. "I asked you a question!!"

"Martyrs are killed for supporting a cause, not objecting to it. None of us want to be part of this! We're just here for a stupid field trip!"

Chiffon grips your wrist painfully tight, hissing at you to be quiet. You know you should listen to her, but if help doesn't come fast enough and you die, you're at least gonna die having fought back. You're gonna die having tried.

"Did I ask what you wanted, kid?" The man says, stepping so close that you feel like the gas fumes coming from his jerrican are getting you high. "Hmm? Did any of us say "oh, raise your hands if you don't wanna be hostages?" No, we didn't."

"Did any of you take a second to think "oh, maybe I don't wanna be child murderers today?" No, you didn't."

The arsonist snorts.

"I dunno. Sounds to me like you wanna be the kindling."

He reaches out and grabs your arm with more force than you anticipate, yanking you away from your group. You yelp in pain, instinctively lifting your fist to strike him in the neck. He chokes and coughs as you brutalize his Adams apple, but doesn't let go of your arm. Instead, he uses the hand holding the gas can to strike you back. It connects with your head, and when you blink, you're suddenly lying on the floor and your temple is throbbing.

Aw fuck, you think, vision blurred. It's so hard to tell up from down right now. You feel your clothes getting splashed with more gasoline. You hear your schoolmates screaming and shouting in terror for the inevitable. You see an indecipherable ocean of colors dancing around you, butterflies trying in vain to escape the fate you're all about to share. You hear someone strike a match.

Oh, please don't make my parents identify the remains. Please don't do that to them.

You close your eyes and try to steady the trembling in your limbs, hoping the pain doesn't last long.

The screaming reaches a crescendo, causing a sharp ringing in your ears. You flinch and press your hands to your head, just barely stifling a sob. There's a loud, crashing sound, and gunfire all around you. The ground reverberates when people start running, bolting in all directions, and you're unable to make yourself look at what's going on.

Heat licks at your side. The fire is spreading and the crackling drives a spike through your heart. You are deathly afraid. You want your parents. You want your brothers. You want your grandpa.

Something hits the ground beside you, right as you feel your sleeve catch fire, and you yelp when a pair of hands start to pat it out before it can spread.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

Relief makes your stiff limbs slacken, and you crack an eye open to find a stranger staring down at you. It's not your father, it's not Jason, and it's not one of your classmates.

It's...a boy wearing a Superman suit, but with a black, leather jacket thrown on top of it. He's looking at you with the widest, brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. They seem to become impossibly wider when he locks onto your own.

He's very handsome, your brain musters in between all the panic. Shiny black hair that was buzzed underneath and long at the top, clear, tanned skin, and near-effeminate facial features are the most eye-catching bits you pick up on.

He doesn't seem to be phased by the fire crackling around you, but you cannot say the same. When you try to breathe in, the hot smoke fills your lungs and you start coughing painfully, grimacing.

The boy frowns — you realize belatedly he'd been grinning before — and shrugs his jacket off. He drapes it gently on top of your head to block out the flames and smoke, then gets an arm under your back and behind your knees to lift you up.

"Hold on a second!" He says, and then you're suddenly outside and being laid down on the grass. The jacket is removed and your breathing gets much easier now that you're in the open air. He kneels next to you again, checking on your arm. "You okay?"

You give him a jerky nod and a thumbs up. You don't recognize this Meta. Did uncle Clark have a kid and forget to tell anybody? It wouldn't be the first time, like when he got engaged to Lois a couple years back and realized he'd neglected to send out any wedding invitations.

This boy looks your age, though. How would Clark have avoided bringing him up for so many years, even in passing?

"Who are you?" You mumble, voice still slightly hoarse from the smoke inhalation. The conservatory is quickly being consumed by flames, if the steadily brightening orange and red in your periphery is anything to go by. You hear sirens quickly approaching in the distance, and wonder where the arsonists went. You wonder where your classmates are, too. Did everyone make it out?

The boy smiles at you again, wide and proud, and gestures to the symbol on his chest.

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

"Oh," you say, and wonder if the hit to your head is affecting you worse than you thought, because you are definitely not looking at Superman.

When Conner opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Lex Luthor. He recognizes him immediately, instinctively, despite never having met before now.

"Can you hear me?" Lex asks. Conner nods his head. The motion is new. It feels practiced. The dichotomy is throwing him for a loop as he steps out of the capsule he'd spent weeks growing in. His eyes dart around the space, taking in the other staff members present in the lab. Some of their names and faces click together like scattered puzzle pieces in his mind, while others are strangers he holds no information about.

He knows these people. They've just been introduced this very second. He feels helpless. He feels his immense powers buzzing under his skin.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. Conner is an experiment. Conner is the result of years of work and programming. Conner is a success in a long line of failures.

He would have had siblings if they'd survived. He wouldn't be alone in these warring sensations and feelings. He would've had someone to relate to.

Conner is a success, but he woke up early. Didn't age enough. Conner is less than an hour old, but he's physically a teenager. He is supposed to be older. He is supposed to be bigger. He needs to be better than Superman. He's a success, but there is more work to be done.

His brain is packed full of theoretical knowledge with no practice. He knows what he can do but not how to do it. How to fly. How to control his super strength. How to shoot lasers from his eyes. How to summon ice breath. How to block out the overwhelming inputs to his brand new senses.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He gets coached through handling himself and reigning in his power. It's clinical and professional. He practices in another part of the lab for days. He does not learn how to speak for a week. No one had noticed beforehand.

Superman got years to do this. Superman got to grow into his body, not have it be grown for him and his consciousness injected into it. Superman got to take his time to become great. Conner does not have that time. He's told he doesn't need it.

Conner succeeds, because he is the better Superman as he was made to be. He is praised for his quick adaptiveness and brilliant control. He wishes he knew what a hug felt like.

He's given a suit and has to learn how to put it on. He's got knowledge of what he is and what he can do and who he is supposed to be, but they did not think to implant in him the knowledge of dressing or hygiene or socialization. He's got all the skills of a person with none of the experience. He's an egg shell walking on egg shells.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He's told that he is ready for action. Superman is not around to stop a crisis from occurring right now, so he must take charge and show Metropolis that a new hero has emerged. One that is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

Conner is a hero. He is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

"Make me proud, son," Lex Luthor tells him, flashing his teeth in a wide smile as he pats Conner's shoulder.

Conner grins back. He will not disappoint. He was made to do this. He is Superman. A better Superman. He is Metropolis' hero.

He knows the way to the Metropolis Conservatory, despite never having been there before. The layout of the city is implanted in his mind. He knows it like the back of his hand.

Nevermind that he's only known the back of his hand for all of three weeks.

He does not fly as quickly to the Conservatory as he's capable. The sensation of wind against his face is so new it stuns him in the air for a minute. The warmth of the sun against his body is so comforting that he learns how to cry in that same, stunned minute. The speed at which he flies dries any tears he might shed, and the excitement of getting to help save his city prevents an overload.

He sees the defaced American flag as he approaches, turned upside down and half-burnt, and the anti-alien flag hanging proudly right above it. He uses x-ray vision to spot the ten arsonists scattered amongst the Conservatory. He sees the class of students corralled into the butterfly garden, with one brave and impulsive soul daring to take a stand.

He knows he's impervious to flames, which gives him the confidence to swoop in and rescue everyone trapped inside the building. Only the three arsonists holding the students hostage need any medical attention ("Grip strength, Conner, we've been over this. You need to work on your grip strength!") due to how roughly he'd pulled them out of there. The rest, he's able to collect and deposit in a little pile of bodies, taking the rope off of the flag pole to tie them all up together.

Then he goes back for the civilians. The building is quickly evacuated and everybody moved to the large lawn behind the conservatory. He leaves the building to burn — he can hear firetruck sirens going off in the distance, piercing his ears and making his breathing quicken. He could use more practice tuning out the overwhelming sounds of everyday life. He will ask Lex to help him hone the skill.

There is one more civilian to rescue. He can see minor injuries on their body he doesn't want to exacerbate. When he kneels next to them to pat out the fire, he is as gentle as he can physically be. They're trembling and shaking from fear, and he musters up the words to console them.

This will be the very first person he's spoken to outside of the lab. He cannot afford to feel shy, despite the novelty of the emotion.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

And they do. You do. You open your eyes and ensnare him with your gaze.

Something deep, very deep inside him, clicks together, and the world becomes quiet.

There is nothing else.

There is no one else.

The only thing he can see is you. The only thing he can hear is you. The only thing he can feel is you.

Conner's world shifts so fundamentally to accommodate you, it's like he's never known anything else.

He is not Metropolis' hero. He is your hero. He is your anything. He is your everything. All you need to do is ask it, and he'll make it happen. Conner cannot live the rest of his pitifully short life without you. He simply won't survive.

Your mouth opens to reply to him. He leans forward, beaming, eager to hear the sound of your voice like a dog to his master's key turning in the door.

You start coughing. The rest of his senses kick back online, and he remembers that you are in a burning building that nearly burned you with it. He can hear your lungs straining against the smokey air, and that won't do at all.

"Hold on a second!" He says, removing his jacket to cover your face and mouth from the worst of the fire. When Conner gets his arms around you to take you to safety, his whole body seems to zing where you make contact. You fit against him perfectly. He memorizes your weight and warmth as he flies out of the conservatory.

Out in the daylight, under the bright sky, you are somehow even more stunning. The sight of your eyes shining under the light when he uncovers your face sears itself into his memory. It's a fight against his every instinct to stop cradling you and just sit in the grass (and isn't it something, that he's never felt how soft grass is and doesn't care in comparison to your presence) and admire you.

"You okay?" He asks, instead of "Do you feel this, too? Do I create the same, soft weight in your chest like you have in mine? Do you feel like we belong to one another?"

You nod and give him a thumbs up. It's better than any praise Lex and the other lab assistants have ever given him. He memorizes the shape of your thumbprint at just a glance and wonders if Lex will give him a pen and paper later so he can draw it.

"Who are you?"

You're talking to him. You're talking to him. You asked him a question and you're talking to him. Every word crashes into his ears like waves against the shore, and he almost drowns in it.

There's a brief war in his mind. He wants to hear you say his name. He wants to know what the word sounds like on your lips. He also knows that this is his debut as the next superhero. He needs to leave a good impression. He needs you to like him. He grins and points to the sign of Hope on his chest, because he was made to be —

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

He clocks your obvious confusion, but it doesn't hurt his feelings. He is, after all, claiming someone else's title. The Superman you know is not the best one for you. Lex taught him that. Conner just needs to prove that he deserves to take that name, that he is worthy of the same accolades and respect that the alien predecessor is getting.

After all, the alien isn't the one that saved the day today. Conner is.

"Let's get you to a medic, okay?" He says, offering his arms to you, palms up. You glance around, then nod, and he's got you cradled in his chest again.

The knowledge of what uniforms a first responder would wear is already embedded in his mind. It helps him locate the proper people to hand you off to when the cacophony of colorful clothing and swarming bodies threaten to overwhelm him. He can pick out police, who are busy untying and detaining the arsonists. He can pick out firemen, who are hooking up hoses to extinguish the roaring flames. He can pick out journalists, who seem eager to talk to him after what he's just done.

More people to talk to. More socializing to be done. He spares you one last glance, memorizing the exact shade of your eye color with a fond smile, then focuses up to finish the job. He's got to make Lex proud. He's got to let the city know that a new player's stepped onto the board. He hopes you'll watch his interview segment.

In the aftermath, when all is said and done and he returns to LexCorp to report to Luthor, he realizes he doesn't know your name.

Late in the evening, after going over everything he did right and wrong, after more training, after honing his body even further to become the better Superman, he lies in his cot and tunes into the world, instead of tuning it out.

He listens, and listens, and listens.

He catches it. Your voice, not in Metropolis but its sister-city beyond the water. Gotham, if his implanted memory serves.

You're talking to your family, who sound like they're dressed to leave somewhere while you remain behind. He listens to them exit your home, one by one. He listens to you walking around different textured rooms. Hardwood. Carpet. Linoleum. He listens to you climb into bed and open a book, turning the page approximately every minute and thirty-two seconds. He listens to the rhythm of your breathing and matches his own to follow. He listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady in your chest, because he saved your life today.

Conner inhales when you inhale. He exhales when you exhale. He repeats this action until you eventually bookmark your place and settle down to sleep, then matches his breathing to your new, sleeping pace. This continues for hours, that deep, instinctual part of him just barely sated by listening to you from so far away.

He needs to meet you again. Properly, as Conner and...

Conner frowns.

He has to learn your name.

The next morning, he asks Lex if Gotham needs a Superman, too.

#el speaks #conner kent #littlest wayne au #kon el #kon x reader #batfam x reader #mossy-party-rocker #🌃#🔮#🕯️#long post #gn reader

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trashmouth-richie · 1 day ago

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ eddie x female reader | casual? yeah, casual | 18+ smut

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ grocery store coworkers au where eddie and reader meet, become friends and it’s casual…so very casual. a kiss, a high feel up, shared cigarettes and christmas presents? casual very very casual….

You spent well over an hour primping and fussing over your hair. Hunched over in your tiny vanity mirror meticulously plucking your eyebrows, and smudging the perfect amount of eyeliner on your eyes for tonight.

Tonight... the night that you had a real date with Eddie.

The two of you had been seeing each other casually. A single kiss after a night of beer and darts with his friends, an occasional feel up over clothes behind the dumpster when you were both really horny after smoking a joint during your break at the grocery store.

But other than those two.. maybe three, minor.. teeny tiny little hookups, you and Eddie had never truly been on a date.

You told him you didn’t care, that what you had now was fine, that you were both still getting over bad relationships. Him with Chrissy and you with Billy. After all that’s how you got close to begin with.

A smoke break during a late night stock shift, you might have been a little too vulnerable, might have been the raging hormones from your monthly visit, but all it took for the tears to start was unloading cases of Billy’s favorite beer and you were losing it.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take my break..” Eddie announced cigarette already in his mouth as he leaned into the cooler, “whoa, you okay?”

You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes, “huh? no mm fine.”

Eddie knew better. He comforted you after dragging you up to the roof, and waited in silence for you to tell him what happened.

He nodded along as you told him everything Billy had done, the yelling, the screaming, the fighting. Punched holes in doors and finally a bruise on your cheek that made you pack up and leave him for good.

You cried and wept into his shoulder as he rubbed your back. He was quiet for a while, and you started to apologize for ruining his break, he opened up about his own bad luck. He said that he had been single for over a year and he still couldn’t get over his ex. That he found her screwing around on him in their bed when he came home from work.

“So we’re both running away from something, huh?”

“Oh no, I sprinted.” You both laugh and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

And from that night of spillage of guts and admissions of not being okay— you and Eddie grew to more than coworkers at a barely-making-minimum-wage grocery store.

He started showing you his favorite music, and you showed him your favorite movies. Casual. Casual. Casual.

Sharing cigarettes and salty chips on lunch, casual. Rubbing vaseline on Eddie’s chapped lips because he refused to own a tube of chapstick, casuaaaal.

Silly Christmas presents of a more ‘manly’ solution for chapped lips being a small jar of carmex from checkout aisle 8. He had gotten you a copy of his favorite tape, and a handwritten coupon for a free oil change in exchange for a container of those oatmeal chocolate chip cookies you had brought for the potluck last month. Casual with a capital ‘C’.

It was a laid-back, more than friends but not dating, sort of ‘thing’ you had with him, and you were comfortable with that.

But tonight was not casual, tonight was it. He asked in his nonchalant sort of ‘Eddie charm’ way, coming up behind you while you mopped up a mess of spilled milk.

Wanna go for pizza?

Sure, when?

Tomorrow night.

Alright sounds good, I’ll ask Dustin if he wants to go.

No, be ready at 6 o’clock, I’ll pick you up for our date.

Date?

Date.

That’s all he had said before shooting you a wink and walking away, whistling.

The tables were turning on this whole ‘casual’ thing and

your stomach flipped with excitement at the thought of it.

Sonny’s Pizza Parlor was hardly a fancy dive but you could care less. When Eddie came to pick you up, he knocked on the door wearing his black leather jacket and a light wash of denim jeans, his eyes went wide when he saw you in a simple yet attractive, black denim skirt and silky scarlet blouse.

“Wow,” he blushed, “look at you.”

“ ‘s too much isn’t it? I can change.”

Eddie held your wrist as you tried to turn back into your house to put on something a little more relaxed.

“No no no, you look beautiful,” he said, his dark eyes full of hunger “seriously I— damn, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks heat and he leads you to the van, hand in yours, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, letting go to open your door, but lacing your fingers together once he started driving.

The pizza was good, and the beer even better. The conversation was always easy with Eddie and tonight it wasn’t any different, but you noticed his cheeks burning bright and his lips seemed to be soft despite him licking them, like he had actually been using the carmex you had gotten him.

Something about the way the red lamp shade from the overhead light looked on Eddie’s hair made him look almost ethereal. As if you had been wearing a dark shade of glasses before, and tonight was the first time you had actually gotten to look at him.

He popped his thumb into his mouth to lick off a dollop of pizza sauce and cheese grease and you nearly climbed across the table to suck it clean for him. The corners of his mouth were begging for your lips, your tongue. His neck held muscles you weren’t aware one could have. And you watched with wet panties as he swallowed each slug of beer. Your pussy bobbing and pulsing along with his throat.

You were affecting him the same way.

When the atmosphere in the parlor got humid and you grabbed a menu to fan your face, Eddie watched with drool pooling on his tongue as your blouse fanned open just a tiny bit. Showing a peek of cleavage from a valley of tits he had only felt through a collared work shirt when he was stoned.

He adjusted himself as discreetly as he could in a tight pair of jeans. Flipping his aching cock up into his waistband, nearly coming when you perched your lips into a soft ‘o’ to blow on a piece of pizza. Jesus Christ. Time to leave.

It was early when you stepped into the fresh air outside of Sonny’s. Eddie paid before the waitress could hand him the bill, and you were thankful, even more thankful that you were wearing black so the little spot you’re sure you left on the chair was covered up.

Casual was out of the window. Gone gone gone.

Eddie didn’t play any music on the way back to your place and honestly the tempo of any sort of music would have your already hard nipples ripping through your shirt. You had never been this worked up before. Not with Billy, not with anyone.

And Eddie was the same.

Small talk was non-existent as he pulled behind your car in your driveway. But he let you decide how the night went as you practically drug him inside. Thank God your bedroom was on the main floor, thank God you didn’t have a roommate or anything to trip over because once you both crossed over your welcome mat, your needy hands were on each other like magnets.

“Eddie,” you purred as his eager mouth left your lips stinging and buzzing to kiss the juncture of your neck, “fuck.”

“Yeah?” He choked out against the column of your throat, hoisting you up in his arms as you maneuvered your skirt higher, pressing you flush against your front door, “Like that? Didn’t think I’d make it through dinner, so fuckin’ pretty.”

“Should have done this sooner,” you breathe between silky sweet moans, “needed you sooner, but now is good, now is.. now is great.”

He laughs at the base of your throat before sucking gently, adding his teeth like he was sucking juice from a peach. “been wanting you for a long time baby.”

You’re clawing at his shoulders to shove his leather jacket off, your mouths stay connected as he starts to work the buttons on your blouse carefully. “How much do you like this?”

“Like what?” you ask in a blissed out haze from the taste of Eddie’s lips on your tongue. “You? What you’re doing to me? Yeah I like it a—”

“No, this…your shirt— fuck it, I’ll buy you a new one.” with one harsh yank, Eddie rips your top open, buttons scattering and pinging all over the floor like a Yahtzee game.

He looks at you for any fear of being too much but you are just as hungry for him as he is you.

The pair of you stumble to the bedroom— because that’s exactly what it was, there wasn’t any grace in the way you were trying to unthread Eddie’s jeans and simultaneously get that goddamn jacket off. Your shirt is discarded somewhere on the back of the couch, or the shoe rack, you didn’t really look at where you had tossed it.

He peels your little pointed toe boots from your feet and nearly trips over them and his own before going into what he thought was your room but was the enclosed back porch.

Eddie laughs into your chest as you point him towards your bedroom like a captain at sea. Your bed is made for the first time ever, dresser drawers are shut properly. You’re sure he wouldn’t care about the mess that is your sock drawer inhabiting mostly mismatched pairs and holey singles that you just can’t convince yourself to throw away.

You wiggle down from him to finish your attempt at unbuttoning his Levi’s. When you were both high and feeling eachother up it was only over clothing but you still remember the girth he housed in those boxers and the solid feel of his chest beneath your fingertips.

“Eddie, holy hell,” you squeal, with wide eyes. He’s tangled behind his shirt and you work his boxer briefs down to his ankles, “you just carry this thing around all day?!”

“What,” he asks after nearly suffocating in his crisp white shirt, his hair staticky and a mess, “my dick?”

Your hand wraps around him and gently tugs and jerks his velvet skin, your thumb brushing over his head and painting his precum all over it. “Yeah, your dick, wow.”

He’s groaning and grabs your elbow to stop you, “d- shiiit, don’t, mmm, don’t do that, I’ll fill your hand in about 3 seconds.”

“Noted,” you say with a wicked flash of your teeth, as you unhook your bra and let it fall.

“Baby, baby, baby…” he moans, placing his hands on each boob to act as a holder, “these are fuckin’ perfect, skirt off, now.”

You spin so he can unzip you, taking the opportunity to rub the fat of your ass along his shaft, and he groans again, stopping to move your hair from your neck and kiss his way to your shoulder and back again. The skirt falls, revealing a tight pair of cheeky lavender silk panties, a matching set to your bra.

Eddie smiles wolfishly as you turn your head to catch his reaction, he licks his lips as you playfully bite your finger, “these stay on.”

Liplocked, the two of you make it to the center of your bed. Before you can even reach for him Eddie has you on your back caging you in, a serious look on his face. “How long have we known each other?”

“Seven… no eight months,” you pant beneath him, “but does it really matter at this point? We’re both naked.”

“Yeah,” he admits, kissing your sternum and lightly licking, “You’re right, it doesn’t…yet it does.” He keeps his mouth on your skin, kissing and sucking and biting and teasing over each of your breasts, loving your little noises.

“I want you to know I’ve wanted you for seven or eight months, but I knew you weren’t ready for me, or for this.”

You want to object, want to tell him he’s wrong and that you could’ve been fooling around for those months but he cuts you off before you could even begin.

“You weren’t baby, and that’s okay. I waited, patiently. Well— not counting the time on break where we felt each other up like teenagers,” you both laugh lightheartedly but he continues, making a snail trail of his tongue down your body. “The thing is, I would wait for you seven or eight more months if that’s what you needed from me, I’d put on my clothes right now and leave if you told me too.”

You’re leaning up now on your elbows, watching his dark hair form a curtain around your body as he keeps going lower.

“I know you didn’t think I knew, but before that night on the roof I could hear you crying in the cooler, or in the mop closet, and I wanted to tell you so bad that I wanted you, and how much I wanted ro wipe those tears away. I seriously considered finding whatever prison Billy is currently in and beating the shit out of him.”

“Oh Eddie—”

“I would, but anyway, I want you. Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you’ll have me, and I promise that you’ll never cry behind a closed door while on the clock because of me.”

He sits up then, right above your clothed pussy, “no more casual?” he asks, eyes bleeding into yours, his mouth hovering over your aching core.

Godddd this man. This perfect fucking guy who worked a dorky ass job just like you, who you could laugh with and joke around even minutes from fucking. You weren’t ready when you met, weren’t ready even a few weeks ago, but now… here with him, you’ve never been more ready for this.

“No more casual,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on him and lacing your fingers with his the little bit you could, “I just want you Eddie, only you.”

That devil smile appears again and your body flushes with heat allover, “good girl.”

With that he dribbles a long wet line of spit into your already soaked panties and lowers his mouth. You moan his name and he pins your canting hips in place. He runs his tongue up and down your clothed slit, smearing the wetness around and groaning when you inch your pussy closer to his mouth.

“Mine mine mine,” Eddie moans repeatedly as his nose, lips and tongue all devour you, rubbing until your left soaked and on the verge of tears from being overstimulated.

“Please,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t.”

Eddie keeps it up, locking you down in place until your panties are wringing wet, nearly drenching your sheets. He sits up on his knees and you know it’s coming, finally, fucking finally.

But then the rubbing continues, and you groan audibly almost pouting because all you want is to feel him inside of you.

“Eddie, please please..” you’re babbling and it’s not even making sense, but he’s smiling stupid as his cock slides between your puffy clothed lips.

He’s teased and taunted you enough and you’re about to tackle him to the floor and take what he’s trying to hold from you. You’re huffing in pouty annoyance and he finally gives up this game, a smile on his face that he can’t even begin to hide.

Yanking your wrecked underwear to the side Eddie slides into your weeping pussy. Your room is filled with heated moans and slapping skin, “Jesus Christ, you’re tight.”

Your breath is ragged when he moves and he makes sure you’re okay, peppering kisses on your knee as he pulls your leg over his shoulder. You grapple for any bit of him you can reach, settling for his hips when he releases your leg and balances his arms around your body.

Eddie kisses you softly and rolls his hips, “you’re perfect, fuck— so so beautiful.” His lips feel like satin, that carmex really doing its job and you giggle at the thought of him applying it tonight in hopes the date would end up like this.

The coil inside of you is ready to spring after a long drag of his cock out and your finger rubbing your clit. “m’ close.”

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes, his hips pistoning faster, his thrusts getting sloppy, “cum for me, cum all over me.”

You release and cry out, moaning between closed lips, your legs shaking involuntary. Eddie isn’t far behind you, kissing your neck and speaking nonsense as he pumps you full. “Shit, oh fuuuck.”

He’s out of breath and laying on top of you, his breath fanning your skin as you run your fingernails up and down his back, tickling his skin and twirling the ends of his hair between your fingers as he softens inside of you.

Sleep washes over the both of you, and when you wake Eddie is holding you close to his chest. His lips are pressed into your hairline, arms cocooned around you like you might float away if he didn’t hold you so tightly.

You revel in it. looking up at his sleeping form, his tattoos that wrap from his shoulders to around his ribs. He was everything and more compared to Billy.

Where Billy was rough in bed, taking and never giving—Eddie was a giver. So much so that you wondered if his knees hurt from kneeling in the shower while he ate you out until the water went cold and you had come twice on his tongue.

Showering at three in the morning turned out to be the best idea you had ever came up with. You washed his hair, and braided it while the leave-in conditioner sat for the suggested fifteen minutes.

Laying side by side, he told you about his family when you asked, because you realized you really didn’t know because he never talked about them. Eddie learned that you snore, just a tiny bit, a little nasally sound that stopped once he held you close to his chest.

The night and early morning was spent just like that, talking about the things neither of you shared with anyone else. And it was perfect.

—

Eddie wakes to a sweet voice in his ear, a gentle kiss to his neck. “Good Morning handsome,” you whisper to him, silently adoring the way he’s curled in around your pillows, “are you hungry?”

He smiles, knowing exactly where he was and the voice of the girl who stole his heart nearly eight months ago. “‘m starving.” Wrapping you in a hug he pulls you back to bed with him. Kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, tickling your sides.

Opening his eyes when he has you pinned down he licks his lip, “is that syrup? Or are you really just that sweet?”

“Pancakes. Eggs. Sausage patties. I made them all hoping you’d like one of them.”

Eddie grins, kissing you slow and deep, his tongue sweeping over yours in a passionate grace. “You know what they say, you make a hungry man a meal and he’ll never leave.”

He was it for you. Stars aligning just right for the first time, and damn it felt good to be lucky for once.

“Good,” you say back, kissing him quick and biting his lip, “because casual really isn’t my thing.”

thanks for reading ♥️

all time tag list: @bastardstevie @dashingdeb16 @lexr86 @pretendthisnameisclever @what-the-jams

@littlebibibliophile @kellsck @emxxblog

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie smut #eddie munson fanfiction

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shikaizer · 2 days ago

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DIRTY PLEASURE. 001

ᯓ Paige Bueckers x Reader x Caitlin Clark

KINDLY CHECK THIS OUT FOR THE PARTS, SUMMARY AND WARNING > SERIES MASTERLIST

"oh trust me, shes a whore. she must have fucked half of the girls in this class." aliyah whispered to you and scoffed

"there's no way.. i dont think shes the type to do that.." you sighed eyebrows raising

"bro, can you tell miss curious over here how fucked caitlin is?" aliyah nudged the girl beside her and she looked over at the two of you

"caitlin? about what?" she asked frowning, removing her earphones

"why so curious about her all the sudden?" she asked again the two of your eyes met

"well both of them are currently talking, but i kept telling her that shes was gonna fuck with her." aliyah rolled her eyes leaning her back to her seat

"ugh yeah, i mean my sister have told me about her, shes kinda fucked" she chuckled you cant help but feel stressed, you kinda liked caitlin, you really do, but you dont really know if it was just a small crush or if you just idolize her.

"yoo.i remember when she fucking slapped caitlin dude that was awesome!" aliyah exclaimed, you cant help but look down overthinking

this past few weeks, you and caitlin have been sharing some few messages, it was either her texting you first to see if you have finished a certain class, something about the latest lesson your prof have discussed, or when a work was given. and it suddenly came to the point where she would invite you to her to party whenever her game has finished, and sometimes would check on you, if you have eaten, and if your still up, this would cause the both of you to talk about some certain things that interests you.

until....

when your conversation have suddenly shifted to flowers to comfort, caitlin had other comfort in her mind. focusing on the thoughts of having a friendly conversation had made you think it was okay to talk about some vulgar thing.

caitlin : well i eat pussies whenever im stressed, lol.

reader : what?

caitlin : nothing

reader : does that feel good?

caitlin : eating pussy orrrr???

reader : yeah that

caitlin : want to know?

your cheeks heated up and you hesistated to type then a three dot started bouncing that made your stomach feel like its knotting

caitlin : do you??

reader : stop fucking around dude, im not believing your ass

your reply was not something you meant, you gave an small hint that you wanted her to prove that she was fucking serious

caitlin : you dont want to?

caitlin : im down whenever

reader : fuck off caitlin

you just rolled your eyes, realizing she must be joking around, but you mentally slapped your self for even thinking, MAYBE, maybe, she was actually serious, because actually, you really find her so damn atttactive, her body, her face, the way she plays basketball you can't even imagine the way she would handle you to bed. the way she flexes her muscles, and the way she would stare at you. it was all too hypnotizing to bare

"how about paige?" you asked looking up at the both of them to be met with a frowning face

"shes literally the same." aliyah chuckled and nudged the girl beside her laughing

"hey hey look at this, my friend send me this one like months ago." the girl beside aliyah reached out for her phone, scrolling down then setting the phone infront of you, it was a convo.

paige : aw come on. please?

bella : ugh, i already send you one

paige : please i really need a goodluck charm

bella : and im still mad at you.

paige : is this about sheila? i already told you i was just playing with her

bella : okay? biting her neck was playing?

paige : you dont bite your friends?

bella : no! especially not in the fucking neck!

paige : whatever, look just send it to me pretty girl, please?

bella : ugh fine.

bella : [attachment sent]

paige : fuckkk

paige : yummy as always

bella : yeah whatevs

bella : um

bella : hello?

bella : great leaving me on seen again.

your eyes furrowed thru the messages your heart beating fast, you are confused as hell. so confused and hopeless

"what the hell..." you muttured to your self and looked at her in disbelief

"so shes that type of person..." you muttured, and thought about caitlin, but she was just playing around with you right? so it was a whatever

"oh honey shes worse" she swiped and revealed another conversation and you leaned down again "this was like a few days after"

thursday 12:26

bella : great, leaving me on seen again.

today

paige : hey

paige : are you ignoring me?

paige : saw you in that skirt, looks tasty

bella : the hell do you want?

paige : woah okay what a way to say hello

bella : fuck you

paige : the hell did i do?

bella : fuck you! i literally saw you making out with someone, you even had the balls to look me in the eyes while doing that

paige : you saw that?

bella : i hate you, never talk to me again you dumb shit

paige : but we aint in a relationship tho?

bella : yeah okay, what did i expect from a person like you! all pussies and cunts huh? all that ya'll care for!

paige : damn okay

you have blocked this person

you leaned up fixing your posture and she pulled her phone back

"woah" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief, you really cant believe it

paige was somehow, the type who would text you alot more opposite than the one you just saw infront of your eyes, its so bad to the point you wanted to believe its fake.

paige : hey, saw you at the court today you looked lost, sorry i didn't get to help you geno was literally screaming at my face, did you find your way

reader : hey! its all good, thanks for the thought

paige : no worries, i really wanted to approach you earlier.

reader: noo its fine really

paige : im glad, just tell me if you need anything, will help.

but you know, you really cant judge because your just few weeks here.

. . .

SERIES MASTERLIST .

#lesbian #wlw #wlw smut #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers fanfic #uconn wbb #wbb #iowa #caitlin x reader #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #caitlin clark smut #wlw post #women's basketball #wbb x reader

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ihavenoideahowtodream · 23 hours ago

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if you are seeing something telling you how to get rid of something that developed slowly with your aging and generally would take more than 15 mins to reasonably manage in your daily hygiene routine esp if the thing they are telling you will immediately fix your wrinkles, scars, cellulite, yellowed teeth, etc cost more than 20 bucks (usd for me at least) then the only thing ugly in that ad are their words.

You dont go wrinkle free at ~ 35+ cause youve been playing in the sun for decades. Gray hairs happen in your 20s and on. Cellulite is a result of normal body fat retention. It is good you have it too because if you get sick and/or have eating limitations or irritations then your body will start taking nutrients from your muscles and organs. That Spare Tire that you have that means you get jeans two sizes larger than this ad is telling you should have is good to have cause sometimes you get sick and it will take longer for your organs to start shutting down if you are loosing weight from your love handles than the muscles in your legs making it harder to walk. your legs will still get weaker but not be actively depleted so quickly.

white teeth also dont exist. it is something tooth paste companies have come up with to sell you more expensive toothpaste and while for the most part it doesnt damage your teeth it is more abrasive than non whitening toothpaste so if you have bad teeth of some kind or have a diet that can soften your enamel already like regular pop consumption it can damage your teeth more. understandably, there is a sliding scale of teeth yellowing for concern, if your teeth look like a school bus then discussing with your dentist about if you are experiencing gum disease is advisable but the damn tissue test is the same arbitrary scale where there are a million was to be a person incorrectly but theres no ideal person that isnt steeped in classism at best and racism at worst. And if your school bus yellow teeth are declared healthy by your dentist then you dont need to worry about them any more. and just because your teeth are as white as the us congress wont always mean you teeth are healthy either. I have a friend who is neurotic about brushing their teeth and have been for the full decade ive known them who was told they have reversible but mild gum disease. contrasted to my adhd ass who brushed my teeth once a week maybe till i finally put my toothbrush in my shower 6 mo ago. I had a singular mild cavity when i went to the dentist for the first time in 15 years last year.

the concept also that you have to pay a bunch of money otc to be "beautiful" is an obvious indicator of scams. Olay's anti wrinkle creams they sell for upwards of $50 (usd) and other brands being almost $200? thats just evil. wrinkles are fine. and we dont have to call them beautiful, or sexy, or signs of wisdom. cause they may or may not be for what ever reason. That kind of language is still commodifying an individual's body as the indicator of their moral worth. Like i genuinely hate the 2025 US president and have always found the jokes about his orange skin amusing. however, the fact that americans first and primary dig at a person they dislike, for what ever reason, is their skin color that whether manufactured or not it is unchangeable by the viewer and by the viewed at the time of the insult displays our idea that association of physical features and moral depravity can walk hand in hand.

the most basic levels of presentability are quite simple: keep your hair tagle free to the limitations of your hair type and use protective hair styles and wraps if it makes sense for you. dont have obvious smudges of dirt or such on face, hands, and clothing. general anti odor hygiene like a form of deodorant or a mint after spicy food. keep nails trimmed and clean. and have clothing on that you obviously feel comfort in- for some this is sweat pants and a hoodie with crocks, others a cocktail dress or suit and leather dress shoes, or like myself tight pants for compression pain management and coordinated colors for my own visual comfort when looking in a mirror and boots with ankle support that are at least mid calf high so i dont have to bend as far to tie them assuming they arent slip on. and the clothes also lacking smells like a cat pee odor.

and like this is baseline presentability for going out with friends, interacting with someone professionally, going on a date, or some other equivalent.

Make up (including foux and uv tanning), nail polish, hair dying and time consuming at home styling, impractical shoes, jewelry, designer clothes and accessories, and other things marketed as necessary for you to be the best and most attractive version of who you are exist for fun and should be enjoyed as games. however, participation in these things should be respected as much as the general presentability practices.

someone in designer clothes with styled naturally voluminous curly hair with makeup that had a bill with 4 digits on the receipt and someone who looks like they woke up in a ditch after a three day bachelor party they only remember the first 20 mins of have the exact same value and deserve the exact same respect no matter where they are.

beauty ads have the same message across the board:

you must buy your value and we decide if you bought it correctly.

their determination is always gonna be that you did not buy your value correctly so buy this other thing in the hopes we decide youve bought value correctly. and they never say you bought your value to their satisfaction so that you keep buying from them

beauty ads will kill you if you let them.

companies make billions from you thinking you're ugly btw. only ugly thing is their bottom line. log out of tiktok right now.

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fixyourwritinghabits · 23 hours ago

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The Quick Guide of Taking Care of Yourselves

RIGHT ANYWAY, semi-functioning again. Here's some generic tips for Americans (and beyond) in these trying times.

Limit Your Social Media News Consumption

Seriously, you need to set specific times to be aware of what's going on, and then you need to put down your phone. Many of the things that are happening are beyond your control. Doomscrolling is paralyzing. Do not fall into despair loops. This helps no one and it especially does not help you.

Make a channel in your Discord group for dumping things in and leave it to that. Find ways to plug into your local community - talk to your local library, check your local subreddit, pay attention to local events. But you also must give yourself a break from all of the above for your own mental health.

Pick a set time at night and put down your phone. Don't scroll through it before bed, don't start scrolling the second you get up. Form firm habits that allow you to rest and take care of yourself. It's important to be aware of what's happening, but it does not require your constant attention.

Do Things For Yourself

In addition to making art, it's important to find ways to keep yourself grounded. Take a class you're interested in. Go to that book club. See if there's a local group into that hobby you want to start. Need to brush up on your technical skills? See if there's some online classes that you can take (and get a certificate for!).

Don't over-commit (I say, having signed up for three different activities this year), but it is vital to take time to do things for yourself to stay grounded. Having other things to focus on is going to help. I'm taking a strength-building exercise class and German lessons, and having to focus on squats and gendered nouns for certain hours of the day has been so helpful in keeping me going. Give it a try.

(You don't have to try German, just to be clear. I just think it's a neat language.)

You Do Not Have to Constantly Rearrange Your Priorities

I donate monthly to my local animal shelter. That's still going to be an important thing to do. I reblog things I don't have the funds to contribute to myself. That's still useful to do. I'm still going to pay for my patreon subscriptions, because I am supporting people I like and want to succeed.

There are some things you can do. If you are in a position to cancel Amazon Prime, you should probably do that. But some people can't, because they don't have a more reliable way to get certain necessities, and that's fine. If you're in a position to close your Meta accounts, that seems like a good call. However, while I've currently got mine locked down, I need my Instagram for professional reasons, and it's my only point of contact for certain people. I hate it, but I've made the decision to keep using it. There's no morally perfect options out there.

Think Local and Connect with Community

You cannot do anything about most of the terrible things happening. You can, however, make connections to the people around you and find ways to support yourself and others. You can find places to volunteer. You can participate in your local political groups and keep up-to-date on protests and political action. You can keep pressure on your local politicians with phone-calling and letter campaigns. Making connections to others will help you find ways to feel useful and help, even if it doesn't feel like you can.

Most importantly, though, MAKE SURE YOU ARE SAFE. If you're a vulnerable minority in a deep red state or desperately need to keep your head down at your job, you need to make decisions that are best for you. You cannot help others if you yourself are also drowning, and that is okay.

There are still some small things everyone can do. Boycotts of certain products and companies (shout-out to all of Canada, keep it up and I hope for nothing but the best for y'all) is something you can do that doesn't put you at risk. Stay connected to like-minded friends. Stock up on masks and get your vaccines. Have an emergency-prepared plan in cases of natural disasters (always a good plan).

Hang in there. Sometimes you'll spiral, everyone will. But keeping your head above water and building steps to pull yourself up from those holes will be essential.

#us politics #unfortunately again #general tips

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toiletclown · 3 days ago

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reciprocation.

spencer agnew x f!reader, enemies to lovers for anon.

mostly fluff, but there is angst (in my opinion)

summary: it started innocuous. a well-meaning question from your best friend. it all spiraled from there.

there are some things in life that are universally true and agreed upon. the sky is blue. the grass is green. and you and spencer agnew hate each other. when your closest friends grow tired of this nonsense, they hatch a plan. it's unlikely, silly, even. but it works.

word count: 13.6k (yes i'm posting this as a one-shot, not multi-chaptered, sorry lol)

────୨ৎ────

"does the whole 'hating spencer' schtick ever get tired to you?" angela asked one day, while the two of you were out to lunch.

it was a sunny day, as usual, and you started sweating through your tank top just a little harder. perhaps the sun came out from behind a stray cloud.

"i'm sorry?" was your response, followed by a forkful of pasta.

"y'know, this weird bit you guys have going on." ang stared at you, analyzing your face, looking for a reaction.

all she saw was confusion. "i'm not... sure what you mean? we don't have 'a bit'. we aren't friends. kind of hard to have an inside joke when you only spend time together on camera. and half the time i drown him out anyway," you shrugged. neither of you liked each other, and that was fine. you were used to it, and the familiarity was nice. smosh was a very busy and ever-changing job. being able to rely on that was kind of nice. you were never a fan of change, anyway.

"wait, so you and spencer actually dislike each other? like, for real?" your best friend looked genuinely taken aback. you weren't sure why, you had thought it was fairly obvious that the two of you didn't get along.

"yes, we actually dislike each other 'like, for real', angela. i thought that was clear, you've seen the way we interact." you were gathering up another forkful of pasta, and angela started laughing. "why the fuck are you laughing?"

"because it's comical? i thought it was a bit! i thought you two were friends and it was just, like, a long, drawn-out joke, honestly."

"why on earth would you think that it was a bit, ang? i'm a good comedian but i'm not that great of a liar. i wouldn't be able to keep up a conspiracy like that. i fear that’s too much work for me." you ate your forkful finally. angela was still looking at you in disbelief, a few small cackles escaping her now and then.

"yeah, that's fair. crazy bit to commit so hard to, i guess. wait, so why don't you like him?" the brunette had abandoned her pasta at this point, bowl pushed slightly out of the way so she can gesticulate with freedom. "and why doesn't he like you? are you secretly middle school rivals? rivals in some niche video game scene? did he outbid you on a guitar on ebay and now you've vowed to ruin his life?"

you rolled your eyes, lovingly. your favorite thing about angela was how far she could take a joke. picked it up and ran with it. you leaned in, your voice barely audible. "you want to know a secret?"

her eyes widened, leaning in and matching your whisper, "yes, please spill!"

you shifted your eyes from left to right, as though looking for someone who could overhear and ruin your life. you took a deep breath in, preparing to spill… the truth.

"i don't actually know why we hate each other," you whispered, shrugging before sitting back in your chair with an air of finality.

"what?!"

"shh, oh my god, shut the fuck up--"

"what do you mean you don't know?" angela was moving her arms wildly at this point, "why do you still hate him then? does he know? what the fuck?"

"babe, i need you to calm down, we are still very much in a public restaurant--"

"and? spill, bitch, or you're paying the full bill."

"fine! god. i genuinely cannot tell you why we hate each other. yes, we do really hate each other. yes, he knows i hate him, and yes, i know he hates me. that has been the only thing we have ever agreed upon in our entire time at smosh. no, we aren't secretly hate fucking. no, i don't have his number, we only talk at and about work so we use slack. no, i don't know why the hate is mutual, i just know that it is. no, i don't plan on trying to change that any time soon. happy?"

before she could respond with what was likely another barrage of questions, your server came to the table and sat the bill down in front of angela.

"they always assume that i'm paying, what the hell?"

you were glad for the distraction.

✰ .ᐟ

"hello and welcome to you posted that? you posted that is a show where we embarrass our guests with their old, cringy, insane social media posts!" the room filled with cheers as ian intro'd the show, and you were so excited to finally be on it. but you also were nervous to see what they dug from the depths of your twitter.

"joining us today..." ian faked a drumroll on the podium, "our first guest is trevor evarts!"

"please don't bring up any of my rhett and link tweets," he said with a wave.

ian drumrolled again, "second up, we have shayne topp!"

"glad to be here, steve."

"and last but not least, y/n!"

"i am terrified." you said, being sure to stare down the camera, a look of anxiety on your face. you were playing it up, but it was definitely real to a degree. you had said a lot of cringy shit in your younger years. not to mention the not-so-uncommon complaints about a certain coworker. ian wouldn’t do that to you, though. right?

"terrified?” ian scanned the contestant's faces. “is anyone else feeling terrified?"

"not really, steve. i'm proud of what i've done and said and i'll stand by it no matter what. if i don't stand up for myself, who will, you know?" shayne said, clearly doing a character. a slightly intoxicated, far too excited game show contestant. you kind of loved it.

"my name is ian, and i think you know that, shayne. why are you terrified, y/n?" ian turned to you, egging you on.

"i was a shit head as a kid, i don't know how far back you dug!"

"alright then, let's get into the first round." ian explained the rules of the round, and each of you listened intently despite knowing them well.

"trevor. you tweeted, 'my two [blank] need to [blank] before i [blank blank blank].’ and i will give you a hint, this was a tweet from about a year ago."

"why does he get a hint right away!" you called out.

"he's not very bright, y/n, i'm sure you understand." ian replied, prompting trevor to make a few noises.

"be nice to me?"

ian turned back to trevor, mischievous glint in his eye. "y/n's not very bright, trev, i'm sure you understand."

"be nice to me?" you all started laughing, and once it died down trevor made his guess.

"okay, i'll take 'my two coworkers need to fuck before i explode them both' for five points, alex!"

"i remain ian, but let's reveal that tweet!"

"holy fuck," you said under your breath, realizing he got it right on the money. "how did you manage to remember the exact wording? i don't remember what i had for breakfast yesterday. oh my god, i'm gonna lose so hard at this!" you weren’t even playing it up now, you were actually getting worried. you were going to lose, and by a lot. hopefully you can attribute your lack of skill to the now-infamous gas leak.

"because these two coworkers still haven't fucked and i still want to explode them, honestly," trevor breathed out, seemingly annoyed at the two coworkers in question.

ian giggled behind the podium, a strangely worrisome sound, and you and shayne glanced at each other in shared horror. "trevor,” ian paused, multiplying the level of suspense you were already feeling. “for an extra fifty points, do you want to tell us who the coworkers are? we'll bleep it."

"fifty points?!" shayne yelled, playfully incensed by this rule breaking.

"just take me out back like ol yeller, i beg." you set you head on the podium, which wasn't exactly a comfortable angle, but this wasn't going to be as fun as you thought if ian was going to play dirty the whole game.

the room erupted in laughter as trevor pondered his choice. "no, i won't. i don't want to start anything, fifty points is nothin' compared to my pals at smosh!"

you all booed him, lovingly, and ian giggled again. "shayne, for an extra fifty points, can you guess the coworkers trevor's tweet is about?"

"do you know who it's about?" shayne asked, confused.

"oh, i think everyone in this room does," ian's grin was devilish, relishing in the chaos he was causing. he's been watching too much game changer.

"okay, i'll guess for fifty points. is it angela and amanda?" the room erupted once more, angela's laugh heard loud and clear on every mic.

"incorrect! okay, let's see your post, shayne!"

"wait, i don't get to guess?" you cut in, feeling a little bit excluded from the joke.

"would you like to?" ian asked, earnest, though that devilish smile was still fixed to his mug.

you thought about it for a second. "actually, i'm good. i think my choices are too controversial. y'all aren't ready for my vision."

everyone laughed, and the game moved on.

"shayne. your tweet says: '[blank] is overrated. [blank] is cooler.'"

shayne's silence dragged on, and ian asked if he had a guess. after a beat, shayne stood stock straight up, ready to answer.

"steve, my answer is. 'steak is overrated. chicken is cooler.' for five points."

"let's see..."

ian revealed the next slide, and a slide whistle sound effect played. “oh, that’s too bad shayne. the correct answer was ‘penis is overrated. dick is cooler.’ so close, so close. alright, y/n, it’s your turn!”

you were feeling a little better now that shayne had gotten his wrong. maybe trevor would win, but it didn’t have to be a huge blowout, right?

“y/n, your tweet says ‘i need [blank] to [blank blank] or i will [blank] in [blank blank].’ this seems evil, y/n, if i’m being honest.” ian’s wicked smirk was still firmly planted; he was playing dirtier than you ever thought him capable of.

“what’s genuinely crazy is i’ve been so worried that i would not remember anything i’ve ever tweeted, but i actually do remember this one!” you laughed hard and loud, but then you remembered you did in fact have to tell everyone what it said. you could lie, but they’d just reveal it after anyway, and you had made a big stink about knowing it now… all you could do was fill in the damn blanks. “okay, it says ‘i need noomf–”

“you need what?” shayne asked, incredulous.

“noomf, it means ‘not one of my followers’ instead of oomf, which is ‘one of my followers’. anyway, ‘i need noomf to fuck off or i will piss in his kickstart’.” you covered your face with your hands, genuinely embarrassed. this would all be a good laugh after shooting wrapped, but in the moment you just wanted to scream a bit.

ian decided to go full little shit mode and not even make a comment, just click to the next slide showing that you were correct. every word. “five points for y/n!”

“oh, fuck, i forgot i was getting points for that. i’ll stop moping now!” you laughed, pushing yourself back into your camera persona, bright and light and happy. you could feel spencer’s daggers in the back of your skull all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

everyone broke for lunch after the finishing the shoot, and angela and courtney were the first to harass you.

“bro, you tweeted that you would piss in his kickstart?” courtney started.

“you guys don’t follow each other on socials?” angela then asked.

court took another turn next, “do you guys not talk outside of work at all?”

“no! they only talk about work so they always talk through slack!” angela was kind enough to explain your point from lunch the other day.

you stood there, tapping your foot. a bit comical, but a flair for the dramatic never hurt anybody, especially not in this industry. “are we done here? can i go get my food now?” you asked, no venom. “here, let’s just eat together and you can ask all your silly little questions. can’t promise i’ll have an answer for everything, but i’ll do what i can.”

you all lined up at the catering tables and grabbed some food, then found your way to an empty table to start this awful discussion.

you decided some rules needed to be put in place, because as much as you loved angela and courtney, you really didn’t want this to blow up into some ‘big thing’. coworker feuds happen in every office setting, it’s inevitable. it doesn’t need to be a whole situation, in your opinion.

“okay, before we start i’m going to lay some ground rules. you can ask whatever questions you want, but i’m allowed to not answer certain ones. whatever is said at this table, remains at this table, forever. and finally, i beg y’all to speak at a normal volume and not freak out for no reason. i do not need the whole company knowing my business. i’m sure you understand.”

they both nodded, and you decided to get courtney up to speed in case they had a question angela had asked you at lunch the other day, which was likely. now that you thought about it, angela was the only person you had really talked about it with. no one else you worked with seemed to mind, or care, so you didn’t think you’d ever need to answer any questions about it.

“court, before we start, angela actually ambushed me about this the other day so i do already have a few frequently asked questions answered. no, it isn’t a bit. we don’t have any friendship at all. we do not speak outside of work. i’ve never seen him outside of work. we do not have each other’s numbers. we do not follow each other on social media. we aren’t secretly dating. yes, we do hate each other, and, yes, it’s mutual. but… no, i don’t have a reason why.” you were fairly out of breath by the end of your rant, and courtney gave you a moment to catch back up.

“you don’t have a reason why? how can you both hate each other for no reason?” their voice was soft, caring. it burned.

a sigh escaped you. “as far as i know, neither me nor spencer have a ‘reason’ for hating each other. but it’s just a truth at this point. we hate each other, so we don’t interact outside of work. we play nice for the camera, but only because it wouldn’t really be entertaining if we didn’t. some truths are just truths. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and me and spencer hate each other.” you took a few bites of the salad you grabbed from the line, surprised at how good the dressing was. “holy shit, this dressing is fantastic,” you mumbled, hoping, in vain, to prompt a conversation change.

“like i said, i thought the bickering you guys did on camera was an inside joke. i didn’t know there was real anger behind it,” angela said, seeming a bit sad at this revelation.

you realized once again that you hadn’t actually had an honest conversation about this with anyone. you had never taken the time to flesh out this charade you were playing. “i’m not even sure the anger is real.” you said solemnly, quiet as a mouse. “i think it started as a bit. i’m not sure when it turned real, but it is. i guess.”

angela put her arm around you, sensing your mood drop. “hey, hey. it’s alright. you going to be okay, babe?”

courtney put their hand on yours, which you held. you felt like you were naked on a stage – feeling too vulnerable all too suddenly. after a second longer, you pulled yourself away from both of them. “i’m okay, it’s okay. can we change the topic, though? i… guess i’m not ready to talk about it, or something.”

you zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

✰ .ᐟ

when the day had finally ended, you felt the most immense relief you’ve felt in all your damn life.

finally. time to go home and dick around on your guitar. today provided a lot of feelings for a hopeful writing session.

everyone at smosh knew you played guitar, but no one knew you wrote original music too. it was the easiest way to process what you were feeling. and if it sounded bad, then it sounded bad. at least you felt better afterwards. you never recorded anything you wrote, because it was a form of therapy for you. you let it all out, you cry, you scream, whatever. then you worked on healing. this was your process, and you loved it.

you were planning out some verses mentally when shayne caught up to you on the way to your car. “hey, y/n! i have a strange question.”

you turned, surprised by his appearance. “sure, shayne. what’s up?”

“are you seeing anyone right now?”

“why, are you and courtney looking for a third?” you raised an eyebrow, which had shayne giggling. you continued, “no, i’m single. why?”

“no reason!” shayne yelled, and promptly sprinted away.

“okay, see you tomorrow, i guess!” you shouted after him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you. for such a small man he had a seemingly large stride. he was already halfway across the parking lot when you finished your sentence. “what the hell is this job, anyway?” you muttered, trying to find the melody you had thought of earlier in the day as you drove home in blissful silence.

✰ .ᐟ

alex: yoooo

spencer: what’s up?

alex: kiana’s friend is so your type it’s criminal

spencer: ok?

alex: i’m serious dude she’s like your dream girl!!

spencer: ok?

alex: hi spencer this is your best friend kiana, you have a date with my friend tomorrow at 7pm at our fav chili’s, ok love you!

spencer: i’d rather not

alex: she said shut up and be there or she’s dumping your kickstart stash

spencer: you are both evil.

alex: <3

✰ .ᐟ

you slept like shit last night. again. the past few nights were just not kind to you, and you could tell it was obvious.

“whoa, y/n… do you need to borrow some concealer?” courtney asked upon seeing you in the kitchen this morning. “i’m sure someone has a shade match in the building.”

“gee, thanks, court.” you laughed weakly to yourself, knowing she had nothing but good intentions. “i’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, not sure what’s going on.” you turned around and sighed into your coffee mug, exhausted. “maybe my body is trying to tell me something.”

courtney smiled, then came to lean against the counter next to you.

“you’re single, right?” they questioned, eyes bright.

you sighed again. “yes, just like i told your husband yesterday, i am single.”

“do you have plans tonight?”

“other than sitting on my couch with my guitar, probably not. perhaps i’ll watch a movie. who’s to say? the world is my oyster.”

they rolled their eyes at you, but leaned in closer to whisper. “our favorite chili’s, tonight, 7pm. you’re going on a blind date with someone i know very personally, who is perfect for you.”

she was out of the kitchen before you could pick your jaw up off the floor to protest.

✰ .ᐟ

you stood in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. what the hell was going on. courtney had sent you a text fifteen minutes ago, a reminder of why you were standing in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. you had a blind date at chili’s in 45 minutes. what the hell was going on.

if you were in an alternate universe, perhaps all the dots you were connecting in your brain would turn out to be correct. you felt like that bit in buzzfeed unsolved.

i’ve connected the dots.

you haven’t connected shit!

in an alternate universe, your friends beating the truth out of you about your feud with spencer, then turning around and orchestrating a blind date for you would mean something. and it would mean they were setting you up with spencer. just for a moment, just a sliver of a second, you imagined that universe.

you imagine it all working out.

but then you pull yourself out of it, and start actually getting ready for your date.

he was probably just another improv actor with a nose ring. and he was probably nice. cute, even. but you couldn’t stop thinking about brown curly hair, piercing eyes, a hydroflask full of kickstart.

a green smosh hat. a carhartt jacket. stubble. glasses. you loved his glasses, and secretly cursed him when he would wear his contacts. spencer.

your phone vibrated against the counter, painfully reuniting you with reality. “shit.”

you fumbled to answer the call, still feeling lost in the syrupy haze of that alternate universe of yours. “hey, court.”

“are you on your way? find my friends says you’re still at your place!” they rushed out, and you pulled your phone away from your face to see you had less than 15 minutes to be ready and out the door.

“shit! sorry, i didn’t realize how late it got. i’m finishing up now, i’ll be on my way before you know it.” the silence on the other end was deafening. “i promise! but i have to get off the phone to get ready, okay?”

“fine. please send me a photo of your outfit before you leave. i love you! bye!” courtney ended the call, and you sighed.

“let’s get this over with.” you mumbled to your empty bathroom.

✰ .ᐟ

spencer was pissed. if his friends didn’t suddenly decide to meddle in his love life, he wouldn’t be on a random side street, a mere three miles from chili’s, replacing his flat fire. at 7:08 pm. he didn’t even want to go on this date, but he also didn’t want to be a dick and show up late. alex and kiana didn’t share any info about this mystery girl so he couldn’t text her to let her know. he decided to call alex as he was getting ready to hoist the spare tire out of his trunk.

“aren’t you on a date right now?!” alex shouted down the phone, no greeting. spencer rolled his eyes.

“chill, i got a flat tire. i’m down the road, like eight minutes max if traffic is kind to me. can you please let my date know i’m not standing her up, i just have to throw the donut on my car really quick.” he was fiddling with the tire iron while he spoke, suddenly nervous and upset at the prospect of hurting this mystery girl’s feelings. he shoved the emotion down and nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder, a smidge tighter than before. “please just let her know.”

“okay, okay.” alex took a breath in, and spencer could tell they’re relieved that the date isn’t a disaster, but only getting there kind of is. “i’ll let her know.”

they said goodbye, and spencer got back to work on the tire.

elsewhere, alex texted courtney.

alex: hey spencer got a flat tire. should be there in like 10-15

courtney: ok i’ll let y/n know!

alex: he called me and i nearly shat my pants

courtney: understandable lol if she called me 10 mins in i’d also be panicking

alex then texted kiana.

alex: spencer is late bc he got a flat tire i’m gonna bomb him

kiana: now, now!! it will work out in the end, grasshopper

alex: dont be weird

kiana: says u

✰ .ᐟ

you looked at your phone again. 7:20. you were on your second glass of water, munching on your chips and salsa and sighing. people were starting to stare at you. look at that poor girl, sipping her water, waiting for someone who isn’t showing up. surely she knows, they thought, surely she knows he’s isn’t coming.

unfortunately, you were still holding out hope. for some reason. you didn’t even want this, your friends just dropped it on you. but now that you were here, you felt hopeful.

most people who know you wouldn’t exactly call you a romantic, but somewhere buried deep inside you, you longed for companionship. everyone did, to some degree – it was human nature. so you decided that at 7:30, you’d leave.

even if tearing yourself from the booth would burn like wildfire.

you looked at your phone once more. 7:22. you’d been brooding in silence, alone at this table, and alone in this world. a vibration startled you out of it.

courtney: hey he’s almost there!!! he got a flat tire he should be there in about five mins, ok?? i’m so sorry and so is he!!

your heart rate picked up, that hope reigniting and spreading a warm fire throughout your body. you weren’t being stood up. good.

y/n: ok! thank you for updating me <3

courtney: of course bb i love you sm! have fun! text me all the deets!

as you smiled and steadied your fingers to type a reply, an all too familiar voice rang out. “are you being stood up at chili’s?” it asks.

you involuntarily rolled your eyes, all too easily sliding into this role you play. no one could say you weren’t a good actor. because here you were, slipping under that mask that fit so comfortably. playing a character. because an hour ago, you were hoping it would be him. you wanted it to be him. but now, he was here. which meant you had a role to play, and you would play it well. you’d give him an oscar award-winning performance.

“please explain how my activities outside of the office are any of your business, spencer.” you deadpanned. it didn’t hit like you wanted it to. “he’s late.”

“scoot. i’m hungry.” he says, and you stare at him.

“i’m sorry?” you admonished.

“scootch over. have you ordered yet?” he asks, casual as all get out. like this was normal, or reasonable.

you both know your roles. you know your lines. you’ve been off-book for years. what was he doing? he was going so far off script, ad-libbing, completely disregarding the words written for you, the ones you’d both studied and memorized. you were an improv comedian, and yes and-ing was never something you struggled with. but this wasn’t supposed to be improv. this was scripted. heavily. this was not reality tv, this was not whose line, this was a 40-minute sitcom with strict character archetypes, and you both knew your roles.

while you waited in vain for the non-existent director to yell ‘cut!’, you found yourself moving over and letting him slide into the booth. it didn’t occur to you to just tell him to sit on the opposite side, which was empty.

despite the warmth of the evening and the restaurant, you felt a shiver up and down your spine.

your server, carissa, came back to the table, and she looked relieved that your ‘date’ had finally arrived. she was probably about 20 years old, and her whole vibe said, “if he doesn’t show up, i’ll kill him for you.”

“took you long enough, dude,” was her greeting of choice. spencer looked surprised, which caused a laugh to escape you. “what would you like to drink?”

spencer seemed a bit lost for words, but managed to say “just a water, please,” after a not-entirely inaudible swallow.

carissa turned her attention back to you, “did you want to order now? or does mister late as fuck need some more time?” she gestured at spencer with her pen, her voice full of humor. it was entirely opposite of the darker voice she used on spencer.

you loved this girl. “easy on him, carissa. i’m sure he has a good reason.”

spencer looked at you, and you realized you probably should have specified that he actually wasn’t the person you were waiting on. your mind drifts back to that slice of an alternate universe, the one you wanted to slot yourself into for longer than just a fleeting moment. your heart quickened its pace once more, and you silently willed it to calm down.

he doesn’t like you, you thought, solemnly. he likes chili’s. he’s probably here to meet kiana or something. the thought of kiana joining you at dinner was a happy one, usually. you loved her. she was bright and bubbly and she was incredibly smart. you loved listening to her talk. but right now, it almost felt like that little alternate universe and the universe you’re currently stuck in were overlapping for a moment. you wanted to keep this feeling. hold it close.

you zoned back in when spencer started talking, both of you unsure how long you had been looking at each other for. it might have been the first time you both really looked at each other. the glancing and the glaring around the office was short lived. never more than a few seconds. this look felt like it stretched on for years, unending. this wasn’t just the first time you both looked at each other, it might also be the first time you really saw each other.

and, if you were just a bit more unhinged, you’d have said that it felt like home.

“i had a flat tire. i was right down the road but i had to put the spare on, so i’m much later than i wanted to be. i try to be early to dates, but it seems like the world was betting against me tonight.” spencer looked at his lap, sheepish, all of the sudden. it was cute. a soft expression you had no clue he was even capable of. it suited him, emotion. or, emotions other than anger.

“see? that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse,” you replied, which prompted a gasp from spencer.

you find the roles shifting, no longer are you and spencer coworkers trapped in an office, glaring at each other and attempting niceties on camera. now, you were stepping into the roles of love interests in a rom-com with 80s flair. the quiet, misunderstood girl, and the edgy yet likeable boy. fake dating for some reason or another, only to fall in love for real in the end. the it was always you trope.

you could play this character just as easily as you could play the hateful coworker. maybe this role would win you a sag award. you set it next to your academy award on your imaginary awards shelf.

“it’s not an excuse! it’s a reason. an explanation, if you will.” spencer said, faux-horror in his voice.

“and i will.” you shot back, playing into it. you could fit so comfortably here.

carissa faked a yawn, and you ask her for a triple dipper – mozzarella sticks, big mouth bites, and chicken tenders. spencer had no comment on this, which made you quite happy, oddly enough.

once carissa had walked away, spencer turned his body to face you a little more, and you felt closed in in the best way possible. he was suffocating you with his presence, but it felt good. safe, even.

you settled into the booth, a little taken aback by his sudden attention. honestly, you paid more attention to him around the office than you would ever admit to anyone. you both had desks in the same pod so you were in proximity at all times, and you looked. a lot. and maybe you pined. maybe… just maybe, you had been pining this whole time.

“what’s goin’ on up there?” spencer asked, nodding toward you.

“i don’t know,” you replied. it was the truth. you weren’t sure what was going on in your brain, just that you had no urge to stop it. more like an urge to give in.

carissa reappeared with a glass of ice water for spencer. he whispered a soft “thank you” in her direction, but his eyes never left yours. she walked away without a response.

“y’know, i was actually supposed to meet someone here tonight. i should probably tell alex what’s going on.”

your ears perked up at the mention of alex. “why would you tell alex?”

“they’re my best friend?” spencer said, eyes now on his phone. “also, it was a blind date. i don’t have her number,” he explained, frowning. “or her name.” his thumbs were flying across the keyboard, and you watched in silence. you were suddenly enraptured by his hands.

then, it clicked. “oh my fucking god!” you groaned, which caused spencer to turn his focus back on you.

“what? what’s wrong?” there was genuine concern in his voice, something you had never heard from him. it stoked the fire inside you, pulling it back up to a dangerous roar. this chili’s would erupt in flames if this continued on for much longer.

in lieu of a response, you simply grabbed your phone off the table, calling courtney and putting the call on speaker.

“hey! how’s it going?” courtney asked, speech stilted with nerves.

“what’s my blind date’s name, courtney?”

you heard spencer mutter something under his breath.

“you’ll know him when you see him! like i said, he had a flat tire. wait, it’s been, like, forty minutes, why isn’t he there yet?” their sentence got quieter as they moved through it, processing in real time.

spencer leaned in, clearly only getting closer to the mic so courtney could hear him, but you’d like to think he wanted to be closer to you, too.

“i’m here, courtney.” was all he said.

“neither of you sound happy…” they moped.

you rolled your eyes affectionately. they meant well, and you said as much. “i know you meant well, honey, but me and spencer have absolutely no chemistry.” there it was again. you switched back to your original role, the one you had spent far too much time in, the one that was closer to home. “this wasn’t a good idea and i think you know that.”

you dared to peek at spencer, who was looking right at you, forlorn. “yeah, court. i appreciate the team effort, but unfortunately me and y/n are just not compatible.” his voice was tight. angry. and just like that, spencer was also back in his original role. perhaps it felt like home to him too, and he also didn’t care for change. some things are just true. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and you and spencer agnew hate each other.

for once, you found yourself wishing it wasn't true.

✰ .ᐟ

once you and courtney hung up, you asked carissa for the triple dipper to be to-go, and you and spencer went your separate ways. the whole drive home, the car was silent and so was your brain. normally you’d be crafting melodies and writing bridges, ever the artist. but tonight your brain was turned off. you had to keep it that way, purposefully silencing the thoughts that threatened to burst through. you couldn’t think about the looks spencer gave you. you couldn’t think about the smell of his cologne when he leaned close to talk to courtney. you couldn’t think about the way he apologized.

i’m sorry about this, y/n. i know that we don’t like each other but i wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

this?

the whole, blind-date-with-my-enemy thing.

spencer, why are we enemies?

i don’t know, y/n. but i think we both know it needs to stay that way.

it seemed like he had been mentally policing his word choice. careful, stoic. there was emotion in his voice, but not in his face. his jaw was tight. spencer felt bad. despite it all, he didn’t want to hurt you. this was a rejection, plain and simple, but he was being merciful. though, it also felt forced. like this isn’t what he really wants, but it’s how things have to be. a law of the universe, at this point. an intrinsic truth. we can’t be anything other than coworkers and enemies. anything else would be disastrous.

you felt silly, catastrophizing like this.

as you turned your key in the lock of your front door, your guitar called to you from the corner of the living room.

let it out, it seemed to say, feel your feelings, so you can move on.

and so you did. you changed into some sweatpants and an old crewneck, sat yourself on the floor of your apartment, and got to writing.

perhaps you would one day add a grammy to your little imaginary awards shelf. an academy award for your coworker enemy character, the breakout role. the sag award for your little lovesick puppy character you got to play tonight, at chili’s. and a grammy. for you. no character, no facade, just you.

but you’d have to record yourself to achieve that. and now wasn't the time for bravery, now was the time for processing and moving on.

✰ .ᐟ

the next morning, you woke up to a small barrage of messages. mostly courtney apologizing. an apology from shayne as well. a text from ang asking if you were okay. alex, kiana, and amanda also messaged you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to keep scrolling. until your eyes caught on something new. an unsaved number, who had texted you a mere minute before you woke up.

unsaved: hey. sorry again about last night.

your heart leapt into your throat, and that fire under your skin was back. you put your phone face down on your nightstand and promptly took a shower.

upon your arrival at work, you were reminded of how fucking gossipy this damn office was. people were throwing you apologetic looks all day, clearly informed on the situation. thirty minutes before your first shoot, ian pulled you to the side.

“hey, y/n. um, is there anything you wanted to talk about? or let me know about?” ian asked, clearly uncomfortable.

you looked at him in confusion, head tilted to the side. “i… don’t think so?” you said it like a question, because it kind of was one. surely one blind date arranged by other coworkers that didn’t even result in a relationship wasn’t cause for concern, right?

“okay, i’ll just ask then. are you and spencer in a relationship? it’s okay, if so, but there’s a lot of paper–”

you cut him off, astounded he even thought to ask such an insane question. “whoa, whoa, whoa. me and spencer are not dating. why on earth gave you that idea?”

ian blushed, and it was quite cute. he clearly felt a little out of his depth, which is silly considering the amount of coworker relationships at smosh. he’s done this at least three times, you think he’d be better at it.

“well i've heard whisperings around the office that you two went on a date last night,” he said.

“and you thought that a date between us would end well?” you asked, a bit astounded. “i'm not even sure why court and them even set it up, it's fairly well known that we don't like each other in the slightest.” internally, you were thinking about the low tone spencer had when he was next to you. boxing you in, commanding your attention. maybe you had been pining this whole time. but that was not anyone else’s business, so you would continue to keep those feelings behind a quadruple-padlocked door, far in the back corner of your brain.

“y/n, can i talk to you as a friend and not as a boss or coworker?” ian dropped his voice, a soft smile on his face.

“of course, ian.”

“i think you know damn well that you and spencer are made for each other.”

“i–”

he cuts you off. “you might have everyone else fooled, and you might even have yourself fooled. but to a degree, i think there’s a part of you that wants that. and it’s okay to want that. to want spencer. it’s okay to want. but if you ask me–”

“i didn’t–”

“but if you ask me,” he bulldozes, committing to saying his piece. “i think it’s also okay to have. it’s right in front of you for the taking, and as much as you can deny it, i think you also know that.”

you were quietly stunned by this emotional, introspective, hopeless romantic version of ian. “i know i can want, ian. i know more than well enough what wanting feels like.” a sigh escapes you, suddenly exhausted. “but i can’t have. not this time, not this one. i can have something else, later down the road. but i can’t have this. i’m not allowed to have this.”

“why not?”

you stayed silent. you hadn’t thought about the why not of it all. it was another one of those things. spencer was an enemy. spencer was off limits. he was forbidden. prohibited. a thing you could want, but never, ever have.

“i just can’t, ian.” you sighed, resigned. you were getting tired of fighting this battle, but it wasn’t like you had a choice.

“okay, y/n.” his voice is soft, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “well, when you can, i’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.”

“i’d never ask that of him.”

“you don’t have to.” ian wrapped you in a hug, and then walked back to whichever office he came from, leaving you in a pile of emotions at the end of the hall.

“what the fuck is happening,” you whispered to yourself. the world was turning upside down, and you were starting to get quite motion sick.

you sat down on a nearby sofa, checking the time. you had to get your mic pack set up in about five minutes, so you tried to use that time to regulate your breathing. in, two, three, four. out, two, three, four. you knew you were shooting a pit video, but you couldn’t remember what it was or who was going to be in it with you. was it a reddit stories today? no, that was thursday…

“y/n?” erin dougal called. your head snapped up, your thoughts finally simmering to a normal volume. a distraction was welcome, and erin was always up to something.

“yeah, what’s up?” you replied, hoping for some sort of insane tiktok pitch that tommy dreamt up, or some gossip about the caterer she had a thing for.

“ready for the shoot?” right, your job. guess those five minutes passed faster than you thought. at least you had calmed down substantially.

“oh. yeah, sorry. what are we shooting again?” you hoped she wouldn't rag on you too much for forgetting your shoot schedule. surely she was aware of your current goings-on.

she gaped at you in response. “seriously? we've only been gearing up for this shoot for, like, two months.”

fuck. today was courtney’s hide and seek shoot. fuck. you had been so wrapped up in the bullshit of this week you had forgotten to even plan a place to hide.

“oh! right, sorry. not sure how i forgot that.” you stood up, trying to collect yourself, embarrassed.

you followed erin into the small parking lot right outside the office, where everyone was waiting to be let inside. she debriefed you on the general rules, which have been the same since the first hide and seek video. you nodded along, and tried to figure out where the hell you were going to hide.

before you knew it, everyone was rushing inside. you decided to go up into the weird little attic space duran usually hides in, knowing he wasn't set to be in the video. it was a guaranteed easy find, and you didn't really want to be alone with your thoughts for very long. you had a history of being found extremely early on, and you weren’t planning to break that streak. especially not when you had so many other things to deal with right now.

but the universe was never on your side. you climbed up the slightly unstable ladder, using your phone’s flashlight to look for a spot, when you saw him. spencer was already up here, because of course he was.

“no.” was all he said.

“c’mon, this week has been shitty enough. i don't have any other ideas.” you whispered, knowing there wasn't much time left. “i can't find another spot, there's only, like, 20 seconds left.”

“no, y/n.” he was firm in his answer, but you were just as stubborn.

you gathered a bit of courage, and made your way over to him, ducking in the tight space. you sat down right next to him, a fraction of a fraction of a centimeter between you. “yes.”

he rolled his eyes and rested his head on the painted cinder block wall behind him, lids fluttered closed, too tired to fight. you understood that feeling all too well. “fine.”

✰ .ᐟ

turns out, courtney miller is exceptionally terrible at hide and seek. you’d both been waiting in silence to be found for over thirty minutes. if you had known how long you’d have to sit in such close proximity to spencer, you’d have made several different choices. starting with calling out of work today.

“jesus, court.” you whispered. then, turning to spencer, you spoke just a tad louder. “we’re supposed be recording confessionals, you know.”

“i'm aware,” spencer said. no malice in his voice, though you could tell he tried. his mask was slipping.

you pulled out your phone and clipped your little selfie light onto it. “hey guys, y/n and spencer here. it’s been over thirty minutes at this point, and i don't think courtney’s even entered the kitchen, let alone this fuckass room.”

“fuckass is crazy,” spencer says, in that giggly, drawn out way he always does. you always liked when he did that. it made your stomach do somersaults, for a reason you could never pinpoint.

“are we allowed to hide together? i know lisa and jeremy technically did in shayne’s hide and seek video.” you ask, purely for the content of it all. you couldn’t care less about any of the rules right now. you were next to spencer, and it felt right. fuck the rules.

“i'm not sur–” a noise erupted from the kitchen, and spencer paused. “they’re hereeee,” he singsonged. he was disgustingly cute.

“gotta go!” you said, quickly ending the recording and putting your phone away.

spencer looked at you, and you looked at him. faces mere inches apart. you both heard the door to the kitchen closing, signifying courtney’s exit. you were both safe, for now. no need to stay quiet. but neither of you spoke.

the silence carried on, seconds to minutes. you started to really look at spencer, dissecting his beauty.

the shine in his eyes, even in this dim, unflattering light. the ghost of a smile on his face. he's the first to turn away.

“y/n,” spencer near begged. “please.”

“what?” you asked, genuine.

he looked back at you. then he leaned in, so close you could feel his breath when he spoke again. “you're killing me, y/n. you know what you're doing.”

you angled your face, just so, closer than you've been to anyone in a long time. closer than you've ever been to spencer agnew. “oh? what am i doing, spencer?” you batted your eyelashes at him.

he inched closer, prompting your noses to touch. it sent a shooting pulse of sparks through your blood. “tell me to stop, y/n.” he whispered, borderline tremulous.

“why?” you didn’t retreat, and you certainly didn’t oblige him.

“please, tell me to stop.” he was still staring into you, through your eyes and deep into that corner of your mind. the quadruple-padlocked door. he held every key, and you could see it all play out: him unlocking every single one with ease. blatant disregard for the consequences of his reckless actions.

you let him. no, you encouraged him. “why can't you stop yourself, spencer?”

you knew full well courtney could burst in at any moment. you're acutely aware that you're both at work right now, in the middle of a shoot. you couldn’t seem to find the strength to give a fuck.

“because you're in charge, y/n. you always have been. i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.”

you moved your eyes to his lips, finally tearing away from that gaze. “go,” you whispered.

that was all he needed to crash his lips into yours.

it’s not a great kiss. it never is when you're both this pent up. it's either too aggressive or too soft, never exactly what you're expecting, or wanting. but it enveloped you in that now familiar fire, and you didn’t even care. this could be the worst kiss of your life and you would still think of it fondly years down the line. because it's spencer. and you wanted spencer. and he, seemingly, wanted you too. so you want. and you have. just for a moment.

your brain finally rebooted and you immediately started kissing back, forceful. spencer’s hands found your body, and they wandered. he set them on your hips, then moved one to your neck. then one in your hair and the other on your face. you only pulled back from lack of oxygen. out of pure necessity.

as you both sat there, foreheads pressed against each other, chests heaving, you started to think about what you've done. he didn't just unlock that door, he blew it off the hinges. you weren’t sure you could ever deny yourself the feeling of kissing spencer agnew. not anymore, not now. you've become addicted on the very first hit, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

a loud bang on the opposite side of the wall had both of you separating. only an inch or so between the two of you, knowing you're about to be caught. you willed your heart rate down. trying to breathe slow, deep breaths. “time to be found i guess,” you whispered.

spencer’s head finds its place on the back wall again. he seemed defeated. tired. but happy. “yeah.”

✰ .ᐟ

two months passed and neither you nor spencer spoke about what happened during courtney’s hide and seek shoot. there's still animosity all around, and you expect that your oscar will be stripped away due to your performance. it’s exhausting, keeping this fucking thing going. you had the one thing you always denied yourself, for just a moment, and that’s all you’ll ever have. you’re well aware of this, and were doing what you could to fully come to terms with it.

but spencer. he seemed so unbothered. like it was nothing to him, like you were nothing to him, like this was all just an elaborate prank. cut the fucking cameras.

tell me to stop, y/n. please.

christ. your alarm had been turned off five minutes ago, but you remained in bed, under the covers. showing up at work was never a thing you dreaded. you fucking loved your job. and all your coworkers, who were now your friends and your family. you even loved the fans, deranged as they are.

but these days, it was weighing on you. getting up, going in and pretending you don’t know the taste and rhythm of spencer agnew’s sinful fucking mouth. it was hell. you wanted more, and he wanted nothing to do with you. and maybe you should have expected that. maybe this was all on you, for getting your hopes up for even a moment.

you’re in charge, y/n. you always have been.

you pulled yourself out of bed and into the shower. you turned the water as hot as it could go, grateful to experience a different kind of pain for even a few minutes.

i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.

once your skin had been sufficiently burned, and your actual shower duties were complete, you decided to dress a little nicer today. even though you knew the only plan you had was answering emails, editing scripts, and some social media stuff.

the shower really helped. the day seemed different, brighter. you felt a little less trepidation about work. you weren’t sure what magic was doled out by your rinky dink shower head, but you were thankful for it all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

pretty much every cast member greeted you at the door. suddenly, that trepidation was back. “what’s going on?”

“did you not check your phone?” shayne asked, a laugh tumbling out of him.

you thought about it. you hadn’t, actually. you turned your alarm off, showered in silence for the first time in a long time, then drove to work in silence as well. “i guess not. why? is everything okay?”

angela let out a gleeful scream. “you and spencer have the fandom in a tizzy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy.

your brain went all fuzzy. “me and… spencer?” your mind drifted back to the kiss, and you felt the heat rising on your face. that was embarrassing. everyone was here, and they were all looking at you, and you knew that your blush was violently visible.

“from the hide and seek video!” chanse added, as though there were any other point of reference.

you started to get a bit light-headed, and you sat down. “i’m confused.”

“why?” courtney asks, coming to sit next to you. it seemed everyone could sense your discomfort, so they dissipated, leaving courtney to work their magic.

“why would anyone care about me and spencer?” you asked. in your defense, you hadn’t watched the video. you couldn’t. you didn’t even watch back the single confessional you recorded, just sent it over to andre. you didn’t delete it though. it sat in your camera roll, heavy on your mind, and taunting you every time you opened your photos app.

they laughed, a soft sound, reassuring. “babe, i need you to watch the video.”

you groaned in response, feeling like a petulant child. like you were going to stomp your feet and cry if you didn’t get your way. “i don’t want to, courtney. i don’t need to see how fucking red was my face was. i don’t need to see how pathetic i look.”

you hadn’t told a single soul what happened in that little attic crawl space. you didn’t want to – it was a blissful secret. it was easier to hold it in, the truth that you kissed him and it felt like flying and dying and living and breathing and everything all at the same exact time. because if you ever admitted that out loud, you think you’d pass away from the sheer amount of love in your voice when you say it. he was turning you into a hopeless romantic, and you’d barely said seven words to the man since he completely ruined your life.

because that’s what he had done, wasn’t it? you were ruined for anyone else. how could you move on, how could you kiss someone else when spencer agnew made alpha centauri appear behind your eyes. a star system, exploding to life. and you knew, somewhere inside, that that was the only time in your life you’d ever be able to feel something like that. you weren’t even sure you’d want to feel it again. it’s been nothing short of agonizing.

“y/n, can i ask you something?” they questioned, ever patient.

“yes.”

“why do you keep denying yourself good things?” her hand was on your thigh, a soft comfort to offset the sting of her question. “please, i'll show you the clip right here, and i’ll be next to you the whole time. if you want me to turn it off, i will. but will you try for me? please?”

you had never struggled with watching the videos you were in. granted, you usually could just focus on someone else in the shot. this was just you, and spencer. courtney would be there in the background, maybe brennan. but mostly it was you and spencer. and if you didn’t look at yourself, you’d look at him. you weren’t sure which was worse, but you agreed.

“rip the fucking band-aid off already, i beg of you.”

she let out a small squeal of excitement, opening her phone. you were only mildly surprised to see the clip was already pulled up.

courtney pressed play on the video, and they handed you the phone. you watched, captivated. you decided to look at yourself. your blush was evident, and once you noticed that, you couldn’t bear to look any longer, so you looked at spencer. he was staring at you, while you stared ahead, giggling at whatever courtney said. his eyes were fixed on your profile, a smile bursting at the seams of his mouth, threatening a chelsea grin. he was smiling. he begged you to stop him, to stop this. spencer begged you not to feed the fire, but you had thrown gasoline right into it.

the thought… excited you.

“oh, hey,” courtney chirped happily, causing you to tear your eyes away from the screen of her phone. she paused the video and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “i’ll leave you to it,” they stood from their chair, pushing it in and giving you a look of hopefulness. you smiled back, halfheartedly.

“hi, spencer.” you murmured, finally meeting his eyes.

“hi, y/n.” he parroted, walking slowly toward you. he seemed hesitant, but… hopeful? maybe you felt the same way. “can i talk to you for a moment?” he gestured to the recently vacated chair on your left, and you nodded. you couldn’t trust yourself to talk at the moment.

he sat down next to you, entirely too casual. he’s slouched in the chair, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “seems like we did a number on a few people, huh?” he started. still too casual. you braced yourself for impact: we still can’t do this, though. we’re not friends. let alone lovers.

what he actually said, though, hit you harder than 400 asteroids. “you certainly did a fucking number on me.”

“uh, what?” is all you could muster, confused, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

he sat back up, then leaned into your space. again. he likes to do that. normally, you’d feel too caged, too claustrophobic. but for some reason, it felt like a blessing. a near-familiar comfort in this whirlwind you were caught up in. “y/n, do you remember our first date?”

your defense mechanism, sarcasm, clicked on in your brain. “if you call that a date, i’m embarrassed for you, spencer.”

“so you do remember it.”

“yes, spencer. i remember when you accosted me at chili’s.”

he laughed, and you know that it’s such a beautiful sound, but it still hurt. “and do you remember what i told you at the end of the night?”

“you said you didn’t know why we were enemies, but that we both knew it needed to stay that way.”

“exactly. y/n, do you know why i refuse to sit next to you in videos? or why i very frequently cut you off when you’re talking? or why we’ve never been the guests on reddit stories together?”

“no,” you breathe out, honest. “no, i don’t know why.”

“it’s because of what happened in that godforsaken hide and seek video. because i knew, given the proximity, i’d do that. i’d stare at you, zoned out of whatever conversation was happening around me. smiling like a fucking idiot.”

you didn’t speak, feeling overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

“i have a cool guy persona that i try quite hard to keep up, and i didn’t want millions of people seeing me, fucking, splayed out like that. all my feelings on display in 4k. since the day you walked in that fucking door, i’ve been forcing myself to hate you, forcing myself to be your ‘enemy’, playing along with this stupid fucking charade we both seemingly crafted out of nowhere. being that close to you, it makes that whole game a lot harder to play.”

“spencer,” you said, attempting to alleviate some pressure. “you don’t have to–”

“i’m serious, y/n. i’m not mad, i’m not even upset. frankly, i’m relieved. it’s out there, people have seen it, and i’m happy about it. i’m tired of this stupid cat and mouse game, y/n. this shit makes me feel like sisyphus. i’m tired of pushing the stupid fake hatred boulder up the mountain. and i think you are, too. i’ve seen it. i’ve felt it.” he whispered the last part, like it was meant just for him. he was thinking about the kiss. reliving it, the tension, the heat, the closeness. his lips on yours, his hands in your hair. he was thinking about it, and he wasn’t thinking it was embarrassing or gross. he didn’t regret it. he didn’t regret you.

you leaned into him, bringing your nose right up to his, face closer than need be for a conversation between two people who claim to hate each other. “tell me to stop, spencer,” you tried.

he looked at you, eyes wide and shining again. his gaze flickered down to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “fuck it,” he stated, and then his lips were on you.

you were once again kissing spencer agnew, and you were once again doing it at the fucking office. but you didn’t care about that, couldn’t care about that, because he was kissing you, and this time it was different. it wasn’t nearly as clumsy, or aggressive. the angle was perfect, and his hand was resting on the back of your neck, a soft cradle. your brain didn’t need to time to load, or reboot, and for once it didn’t even blue screen. you immediately kissed spencer back, with more fervor than you thought you had in you.

a small moan slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t care about that either. you knew your coworkers were probably watching you both from around the corner, phones out to record the momentous occasion, hushes being thrown at others who dared to speak.

but right now, the only thing you cared about was making sure spencer knew you weren’t going to play this fucking godawful game anymore. you kissed him like you were serious about it, because you were. you were serious about spencer agnew. as serious as a heart attack, which you felt like you were on the verge of.

you attempted to pull back for a moment, but spencer wouldn’t let you go. he’s starving, and you are a delicacy he intends to gorge himself on, gluttonous. you gave in, and continued to kiss him back. it’s the most blissful feeling, reciprocation.

no more games. no more lies. no more feuds.

no more enemies, or hatred.

some things in life are universal truths. the grass is green, the sky is blue, and you and spencer agnew loved each other. you always had, and both of you were equally tired of pretending otherwise. pushing back against the universe was always a losing game.

so you both gave in.

and it was heavenly.

“please, y/n,” spencer pined, pulling back but still staying close. “don’t make me wait another two months to do that again.”

a laugh surged out of you, loud and honest. “have you been thinking about doing it again?”

“constantly. it’s a problem.”

you bit your bottom lip, unsure of how you got here. “oh my god,” you put your head in your hands, remembering your first tweet from you posted that. “i’m sorry i threatened to piss in your kickstart.”

this time, spencer was the one who laughed. hard and loud, honest, just like you, a moment ago. like you were still doing, because hearing spencer laugh made you laugh. a contagious happiness pouring from his lips, filling your very atoms.

“it’s okay, i understand. i wanted to piss in your lattes.” he set his forehead against yours, a form of intimacy he seemed to love. just like two months ago, he was invading your space and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“i’m sorry it took so long to get my head out of my ass,” he spilled, remorse heavy in his voice. “to think we could have been doing this so long ago…” his sentence faded away, and you couldn’t help but smile even harder.

“hey, my head was also up my ass. it’s okay. we have time.”

“yeah, we do.”

✰ .ᐟ

the remainder of the week went off without incident. you told ian you would fill out any and all paperwork, but not until you and spencer were ready. not until he formally asked you to be his girlfriend. it was still the very early days, and while you were beyond happy, you didn’t want to jinx it. watching this love grow was a privilege, not a right, and you intended to keep it.

you both graced the infamous white reddit stories couch, the episode themed around coworker drama. it was nice to be able to laugh with him openly, and it was nice to hear his thoughts on the stories. spencer was incredibly well articulated when he wanted to be, and it was incredibly sexy to watch him be so emotionally mature and vulnerable. he was more understanding than you would have ever expected, and it only made you want him more.

you hadn’t had a real, formal date yet. that was tonight, once shooting wrapped. he refused to tell you anything about it, just insisted you dress comfortably.

and you were comfortable, here on this couch, with spencer. you both had to be reminded not to sit so close together, several times now. shayne and courtney ragged on you a bit, but they promised to give you tips on hiding the relationship if that was what you chose to do. that was a conversation for another time, but it was nice to know everyone at smosh would always be in your corner.

you pulled yourself out of your head to concentrate on shayne’s voice, and you even threw in a few comments mid-narration. you didn’t like doing that often, it felt rude to interrupt. but hearing spencer break out in a fit of giggles at a shitty joke you made only pushed you to be more confident.

✰ .ᐟ

“where the fuck are going, spencer?” you questioned for approximately the fifteenth time. once shooting had wrapped, everyone bid you and spencer farewell and good luck on your first official date. you went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and an old hoodie, and when you reappeared spencer was holding a blindfold in his hand.

without thinking, you had popped the first joke that came into your head. “oh, we’re already getting freaky?”

he had laughed, and insisted it wasn’t anything like that. “but it can be, eventually.” he raised an eyebrow, suggestive and suave.

well, fuck.

as spencer directed you through the office – presumably to take you to one of the stages? – you let the lack of sight relax you. he wanted to surprise you, which means that he planned something. or set something up. you were rapidly falling in love with this man, and you weren’t sure if that was scary or exciting. probably both. you were free falling out of a fucking airplane, the cords on your parachute stuck, but it felt good.

“okay, you can remove your blindfold,” you heard his voice from behind you, as he finally brought you to a stop.

you slowly reached up to pull the blindfold off, and you couldn’t stop the tears that started to form.

spencer had set up a place for you to record music. he had moved a bunch of props and furniture around on the games stage, and set up a tiny little nook with pillows and blankets and bean bags. somehow, your guitar was there, propped next to an amp. there were several pedals splayed out, a wide array of effects for you to choose from. it was all hooked up to your macbook, which had fl studio pulled up on it.

“spencer…” you whined. the tears were silent, but they fell in waves.

he moved to stand in front of you, and you knew you would never get tired of being able to be this close to him whenever you wanted. he was yours to hold.

you tried to stop the tears, tried to speak, tried to thank him and apologize. all you could do was let the small, silent sobs wrack your body.

“y/n, please please tell me that these are happy tears,” spencer pleaded with you. his hand wiping a tear away from your cheek.

you nodded furiously, and found your voice again. “y-yes. yes. they are happy tears.” you took a deep breath in, stinging in the best way. “thank you so fucking much, spencer. i don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“i know that you write music, but i know you never record it. i didn’t know if that was because you were worried about it not being good enough, or if it was simply the inability to record. either way, i can keep all of this set up here for you. whenever you want, as long as the stage isn’t needed, of course. i was hoping we could have a little jam sesh.” spencer laughed, light and airy.

you surged forward, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. “thank you,” you said again.

✰ .ᐟ

you and spencer spent three hours holed up on the games stage, playing around with different effects pedals and different fl studio presets. the time flew by, and you hadn’t even actually recorded anything, but you didn’t need to. you’d remember every second of this night for the rest of your life. you didn’t show spencer any of the songs you’d written these past few weeks, all of them about him. you would one day, when you were ready, but right now all you wanted was to be in this moment with him.

“it’s crazy how far we’ve come in such little time,” spencer said quietly, once the instruments had been retired and you were both stretched out on the extra large bean bag.

you smiled, agreeing. “yeah. it sucks that we lost out on so much time, but i’m grateful that i get to have you at all.” it was more vulnerable than you had meant to be, but spencer didn’t let it linger in the air too long.

“you have me for as long as you want, babe. i’m not leaving until you kick me out.”

a soft laugh, “i can’t imagine a world where i’d ever kick you out, spencer.”

“it’s like i told you. you’re the one in charge, y/n. i’ll follow your lead wherever it takes me.”

“even if it takes you off a cliff?” you japed, adding some levity to this conversation you weren’t quite ready for.

“yes,” spencer replied, no hesitation or thought. “wherever you go, i’d like to be with you. if you’d have me.”

you turned fully onto your side so you could look at him again. his hair had gotten so long, and you were hoping he wouldn’t cut it yet. you liked how wild and windswept it looked at this length. you also wanted to pull it.

“what are you saying, spencer?” you were egging him on.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n? we can go as slow or as fast as you’d like, we can do it all at your pace. we have time,” he assured you. “i know this is only our first date, and normally this might seem like jumping the gun a little bit.” spencer sighed, but it was wistful, not sad. “but i’ve been sure about you for years now, and now that you’re finally giving me the chance, i don’t want to wait. i don’t want it to slip out of my hands.”

you let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding. this side of spencer – no, just spencer – you were so unaware of him and everything he had the capacity to be and do and feel just a few months ago. sure, you’d been pining for awhile, and you’d been watching him for a bit. not in a creepy way, just observing him when he wasn’t putting up the goddamn shield he always forced up around you. seeing spencer for who he was, as he was. you had no idea that he could be so eloquent, so romantic, so fucking perfect.

“christ, you’re going to kill me, charles spencer agnew.”

“is that a yes, y/n? don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already!” spencer laughed again, and you realized just how often you made him laugh. almost like your specific brand of comedy was tailor made for him. maybe it was.

“yes, spencer, i will be your girlfriend.” you smiled at him, a toothy. unabashed grin. “thank you for this.” you gestured around the nook. “seriously, this is so fucking sweet of you. i really, truly appreciate it.” most people didn’t put so much effort into the first date. this would, normally, be a fifth date kind of thing, probably. not that you had much practice. but it was your first real date, and spencer did all this work just to spend a few hours making shitty hyperpop mixes out of the silliest guitar sounds you could manage.

“don’t get used to it, this was a lot of work.”

your smile dropped instantly, a cold rush hitting you. fuck, was he making fun of you? you felt tears well up again, this time decidedly unhappy tears.

spencer shot up in an instant. “hey, hey. it’s okay, love. can i touch you?”

you cried harder, realizing that not only was spencer not making fun of you, but that he was listening. he always was, he always had been. because he knew not to touch you when you were crying, he knew to ask. and you had never told him that.

you had said it in a reddit stories video once. the story had to do with panic attacks, and you felt like you had to give your two cents, daring to be vulnerable on beyoncé’s internet.

“i actually hate being touched when i’m upset. people always jump straight to hugging me or patting my head or some shit. bro, i’m fucking freaking out, please do not touch me!”

courtney laughed, agreeing with your sentiment. “no, exactly! like, i’m crying all over myself and i’m snotty and gross. please get your hands off me. you can clearly see i’m overwhelmed, why is your first thought to add to that?”

it was refreshing to be understood by someone.

“i have never once seen someone in emotional distress and thought, ‘hmm, i should hug them super tight! that’ll help!’ like, what the fuck are we doing, guys? however, i do remember one time i started having a panic attack, and my friend looked at me and held her hands up, then asked ‘can i touch you?’ which, like, just broke me out of it. i was so thankful that she asked to touch me instead of just doing it that i was immediately calmed down. she’s great.”

the emotions were a sudden flood, and you shook your head no. spencer sat still in his spot, respecting your decision. for some reason, this only prompted you to cry harder.

basic respect had you sobbing. this was fucking embarrassing.

“i’m so sorry,” you said through tears, trying to explain yourself.

spencer was patient, and you knew he would wait for you to collect yourself. it was a small gesture but it really did mean the world to you. this meant not only did he listen to you when you were talking on set, but also that he watches the videos that you’re in. he wasn’t on that shoot, he had a con to go to. he wasn’t even in the state of california when you had said that. you had said that nearly a year ago, and he had watched the video when it came out. then committed that piece of you to memory.

“spencer?” you let out softly. “i have a question.”

your voice was small, almost upsettingly so. you didn’t mean to sound so timid, but projecting your voice when you’re feeling this many emotions was something you could only do in front of a camera or a live audience.

“yes?”

“how long have you known that you didn't… y’know. hate me?” you sighed, glad to have the weight of the question off of your shoulders, but worried about how heavy the answer might weigh on you.

“i never hated you. i never even disliked you, y/n. i thought you were smart enough to figure that out.”

“are you negging me, babe?” you asked him, trying out the pet name. it felt nice, especially because you meant it. and because this time, you knew he wasn't being mean. he was just being spencer.

once again, spencer’s laugh graced your eardrums, and you knew you’d never tire of the way it made you feel. unstoppable. like if you could make spencer agnew laugh like this, you could do anything in the world. maybe even be brave.

“can i show you something that i've been working on?” you asked, your eyes trailing up to meet his, which were already fixated on you. as always.

“of course.”

you grabbed your guitar, turning ever so slightly to the side. you didn't want to hide, but you also didn't want to be on full display. spencer understood your movement immediately; he looked down at his hands for a moment, silently reassuring you that it was okay, that you were safe.

it was refreshing to be understood by someone.

you plucked the chords you had burned into your brain at this point. you had written this song the evening of the hide and seek incident (trademark pending).

you let your eyes fall shut, playing from memory, as easy as 1-2-3. as you began the first verse, you dared to glance at spencer. he was looking at you, but through his periphery. still trying to give you that space, but unable to deny himself. it made you burn bright with pure, radiant joy.

you glided into the chorus, your eyes fully open at this point. spencer had long since abandoned his resolve, and he was watching you intently. instead of being scared, or nervous, or overwhelmed, you just felt seen.

in every sense, you felt seen. he was looking at you, into you, and not through you. he was seeing your heart on your sleeve, stitched permanently on every cardigan you owned. he was seeing all of your emotions, all the anger, all the sadness. and he understood your emotions, because he had felt them, too. he had gone through it all, too.

how lucky you were, to be loved by someone so observant. and maybe it wasn't love yet, but you knew the potential was there. you knew, as you finished up the bridge and moved on to the outro, that the seed had been planted. you would be sure to water it diligently.

“can i kiss you?” spencer blurted out, as soon as the final note finished ringing out in the otherwise silent stage.

“always.” you met spencer halfway, another crashing, aching kiss. his hands immediately found your hair, as they always did. your arms fell around his shoulders, a loose hold.

after a moment the kiss was less crashing and danger and speed, slowing naturally to a sensual pace. lightly pulling and pushing, his hands now gripping your hips. not angry, not painful. it was a tight grip, but it wasn't mean. it felt scared, almost, like if spencer didn't hold on to you, you’d be gone.

you think you liked that feeling. the feeling that your partner wanted you all the time.

you spent another hour lazily kissing, and ended up falling into a blissful sleep.

✰ .ᐟ

you woke up about an hour after you had crashed. you hadn't meant to, you were just so fucking relaxed and happy. with the way your sleep had been, you weren’t going to turn down a nap.

spencer mumbled something, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the fact you were still in the office. you groaned, unintentionally.

“you okay, y/n?” your boyfriend – you loved that – asked, his voice soft and scratchy from the nap.

you smiled down at him. “yeah, sorry. i just realized we've only ever kissed at the office.”

you watched in amusement as the cogs turned in his head. “oh, jeez. well, that’s just unacceptable. hey, apropos of nothing, i'm out of kickstart. do you want to run to the corner store with me?”

spencer held out a hand, as if to say ‘join me on this adventure?’ and you weren’t sure how you could decline his offer.

♡

#richie txt #richie writes #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader

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justmeinadaze · 2 days ago

Text

Curiosity: Part 2 (Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

Warnings: Younger (Early 20s) Daddy (kinda camboy) Eddie & Older (early 30s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, SO MUCH dirty talk <3, daddy kink (cause I'm me), praise, SPANKING <3, light slapping, male masturbation, of course aftercare

FLUFF, Eddie always talking about how beautiful she is <3

ANGST, Eddie still doesn't know Y/N is the girl he's talking to online, mentions of a bad past relationship (she talks about how an ex made her feel like there was something wrong with her size; brief, "sweetie you're too big..."), Y/N gets a bit sassy and Eddie doesn't know how to handle it cause they haven't had the talk about their relationship (yells at her). I think that's it. I know those are the biggies.

More than anything this is him showing her more about the Daddy life and helping her realize she's beautiful inside and out.

Word Count: 7007

Chapter 1/ Donate to Me <3

“Hey, Y/N. I need my laptop back to finish this—Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”, your roommate shouted as she immediately backed out of your bedroom and shut the door. “In my defense, it’s not normal for you to have a boy over!”

“Well, that’s good to know.”, Eddie murmurs making you laugh as cover your face in embarrassment.

“Give me a minute, Kelsey!”, you shout as you start to get out of bed. “I’ll be right back. Um, feel free to use my bathroom if you need to.”

“Is it ok if I smoke?”, he asks as he gestures towards the double doors in your bedroom that lead to the balcony.

“Oh, absolutely. Just, um, make yourself at home.”

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, he grabs your wrist and playfully tugs you down so his lips can kiss yours.

“You’re really adorable.”

Smirking, you caress his cheek as he bites his bottom lip and pokes your nose.

As soon as you exit your room and hand her her laptop, your roommate begins her interrogation.

“Who the fuck is that? He’s so cute! Tell me everything!”

“Can we do this later? I’m so exhausted.”

“I’ll bet you are.”, Kelsey laughs as you narrow your eyes towards her playfully. “Ok, fine, but YOU are washing those sheets, ma’am.”

“Noted.”

After pouring a cup of coffee for each of you, you reenter your bedroom to find Eddie still outside almost finished with his cigarette.

“Hey, I brought you some caffeine if you want some.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Did you get the third degree?”

“Kind of but I was able to get a reprieve if I promised to tell her more later.”

The metalhead smirks as he nods, tossing his smoke over the banister before following you back inside and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“I had a good time with you last night.”, he murmurs as you lean back into his chest and crane your neck to kiss his lips. “Um, before we continue…this…there’s something I have to tell you.”

Eddie places you on the edge of the bed and grabs one of your chairs in your room to place it in front of you.

“Ok, so, uh, remember when I told you I had a second job?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “It’s not actually a job-job but more a website…I, um, I have an OnlyFans…where I take off my clothes and…jerk off…for money. Sometimes, very rarely, I’m intimate with one of my friends who’s been doing this kind of thing for years but…”

His expressive, chocolate eyes search your face, trying to get a read on any emotion you might be feeling to his news.

“Alright, not going to lie, I half expected you to call me a whore and be disgusted so the fact that you’re incredibly quiet makes me nervous.”, he shakily laughs as he waits for you to speak.

“Do you like it?”

Eddie blinks in surprise as he leans back in his seat.

“Um, I mean, I don’t hate it but I can understand why you might.”

“Me personally or other women?” The metalhead breathily exhales as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t think you’re a whore and it…doesn’t bother me. I…Eddie, I have to tell you—”

His lips cut you off as he tenderly kisses them, pushing your body back against the bed and placing himself on top of you.

“You’re so cool.”, he murmurs making you giggle as his smile grows. “Did, uh, did you have any questions or…?”

“Can I see it? Your set up?”

***

“Normally, a lot of people just like use their phones or something but I guess my gamer roots needed a bit more.”, Eddie jokes as you watch him log into his computer from the chair he placed beside him.

“I didn’t know you game.”

“Oh, um, I’m not very good at it but my friends play so we’ll have like guy nights and just run around shooting each other in the virtual world.”

While he continued to talk your eyes couldn’t help but wonder down his very kissable throat to his broad shoulders and along his forearm to his hand that quickly clicked the mouse it was holding.

“Alright, so this is my camera obviously. On this screen here I put my equipment controls including the reflection of me on the camera so I can make sure I’m in frame. On the other, I have the site up where I can see their messages to me.”

“Their?”

“My…fans…”

“Are they rude to you or anything?”

“Not all of them.”, he smirks as he glances your way. “I actually made a friend the other day but I don’t know her name. We’re just friends though I swear.”, Eddie quickly confirms.

“What do you say to people when they watch you?”

“I have an initial stream where I just let people get to know me but after an hour I go into a private stream they paid for. I…fuck this is so weird explaining.”, he laughs nervously. “I say stuff like about my cock while I touch myself. Sometimes they ask about my friend I told you about…the one I film with.”

“What’s her name?”

“Steve.”

As he says his friend’s name, his worried eyes lock with your own thinking that this may finally be the one step that’s a step too far.

“Can you give me a demonstration?”

“How so?”

“Like…if you were on camera and I had paid to see you…what would you do?”

An anxious laugh leaves his lips as he turns his chair to face you.

“I’m not exactly prepared.”, he teases as he gestures towards his crotch area.

“So, you’re telling me you’re always hard when you start to stream?”, you sass making him smile as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

“No, I guess not.”

His eyes remain on you as he stands up and shuffles out of his jeans, tossing them haphazardly to the floor before reaching into his boxers to pull his dick out.

“Do you do the Daddy thing with them?” Languidly, he strokes himself as he leans back and answers you with a soft but firm mhmm. “When did you realize that’s something you enjoyed?”

“I always knew. What about you?”

“Oh, um, I’ve never done that…this…before.”, you shyly respond, smiling a bit when you notice his wrist flick and his cock twitch slightly at your confession.

“I never would have guessed that with h-how easily you call me that.”

“Things seem to be easy with you.”

At your words, you nervously giggle as you hide behind your hands.

His chair creaks slightly as he leans over and a long line of spit leaves his mouth to land on the mushroom head of his length before he strokes it along his shaft a bit faster than he had been.

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea how much shit like that turns me on. The shy little laugh with the innocent eyes. I like kn-knowing I’m the first man to make you feel that way. I wish I was your first everything but…”, Eddie chuckles.

“It felt like it with that monster between your legs.”, you laugh, interrupted when his free hand grabs the arm of your chair and yanks you closer to him.

“Did you like the way it felt…Daddy’s cock stretching you open?”

Eddie whispering dirty words was one thing but having them strain from his beautiful lips as he stared into your irises was another. Biting your lip, you tried to duck away again but his palm hastily cupped your cheek forcing you to remain still.

“Answer me, pretty girl.”

“Yes, I liked it.”

“Liked what…say it.”

The metalhead smirked as you tried to duck away nervously again but his hand kept you in place.

“I l-like the way your cock felt stretching m-me open…”

“Good girl, always such a good girl for Daddy. Can you pull down those sweats and open your legs for me so I can have another look at those cute panties you put on?”

You do as he asks and the man heavily sighs as his eyes trace along your legs to the cotton blocking your core.

“They’re a little wet. Do you like watching Daddy touch himself?”

“Y-Yes, I like watching you… I think you’re incredibly handsome…especially like this…”

“You keep calling me handsome, babe, and I might grow an ego.”, Eddie chuckles feeling your energy lighten. “I think you’re incredibly beautiful. I l-like looking at your legs especially your thighs.”

“My fat thighs.”, you tease but your eyes momentarily shift to the void before finding his once more to notice they’ve darkened slightly.

“Did you mean that negatively…like your ‘fat’ thighs are a problem?”

“I-I-I mean…”

When you absently shrug as if it’s common knowledge, the boy growls under his breath as you watch his jaw tighten and his nose scrunch in what seems like anger.

“What?”, you murmur, repeating yourself when his only response is to pump his fist a bit faster and harder.

“Your weight doesn’t affect how fucking gorgeous you are.”

“I’m sorry.”, you whine. “I d-didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Mmph—you didn’t upset me, Y/N. The idea of you or anyone else thinking about you that way…upsets me.”

Surging forward, you kiss his lips, reveling in the taste of nicotine that lingers, thankful that he allows it even though you feel him not fully reciprocating.

“Jesus Christ.”, Eddie grumbles and you open your eyes just in time to see his spend hit thigh.

Silently, he reaches for his tissues to clean himself while his face remains furrowed.

“I’ve never liked the way you talk about yourself.”, he mumbles, taking the Kleenex and throwing them away.

“I’m just…I was just joking…”

“At your own expense?”

“Is this really what you want to talk about after what we just did?”

Eddie huffs as he grabs his pack of cigarettes and puts one between his teeth before lighting the end.

“YOU’RE the one who brought it up in the middle of what we just did. I’m just tired of it. If it’s not your weight, it’s your age and you make it sound like you’re undesirable or something. Did someone make you feel that way?”

Your head swiftly turns to glare into the void. Eddie’s seen that look before on many people he’s annoyed with his loudmouth in the past.

He hit a nerve.

“Look, I’ve been single for a while so I’ve mastered the art of self-deprecating jokes. I’m sorry I fucking hurt your feelings or whatever with a comment about ME.”

Angerly, you get to your feet and reach for your pants but he beats you to it, effortlessly tugging them from your grasp.

“I think it’s time we talk about some things.”

“I don’t want to. Now give me my pants, little boy, and take me home!”

At your words a fire let within him that reflected through his eyes startling you slightly even though you kept your glare firm.

“Little boy, huh?”, he growls roughly before taking an inhale of his cigarette and blowing smoke to the side. You stumbled backwards slightly as he released his hold on your sweats and sat back down. “You can wait outside and I’ll pay for the fucking uber. Get out of my house.”

“Eddie, I—”

“No. Get your shit and fucking leave. I don’t think you’re ready to see how I handle bratty behavior.”

“Y-You won’t even take me home?”

“I can make sure you get there from the app. Now, this is the last time I’m going to say it…Get…out.” You heard it in his tone; the anger mixed with the pain. You calling him that also struck a nerve but your wall went up and you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing him this way wishing you could take back your words.

“Eddie, I’m…I’m really sorry—”

“NOW!”

You jumped as his deep shout rung in your ears before quickly scurrying out the door.

##################

Eddie called in the next day and every time you tried to text or call his phone, he didn’t answer.

You were worried.

At least that’s what you told yourself to justify taking your roommates laptop and signing in to the OnlyFans account to schedule a session with him that evening.

When his face illuminated the screen, he seemed to be hidden under a haze of smoke.

“Millennial, babe, you don’t have to keep paying for sessions. I can give you my phone number so we can talk.”, he chuckles as you watch him bring a bong to his lips and inhale. “I hope it’s alright I’m a little buzzed.”

“Are you ok? You seem sad.”

When his glassy eyes and slurred smile find the camera, you would give anything to hug him and hold him in your arms.

“I am a little. That girl I told you about came over yesterday after a fucking perfect night together…and I showed her my set up…She was surprising cool with it, by the way.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…we, um, she called me handsome and I told her she was beautiful; told her how much I love her gorgeous legs and thighs. I swear, Mill, I could fucking live between those thighs… I’ve been watching them move when she walks since we started working together and…fuck me… Now that I’ve experienced them wrapped around me…I’m obsessed.”

“But…”

Eddie’s chocolate irises shifted to the floor as his smirk faltered for a few seconds.

“She always makes little jabs at her weight or her age and it fucking kills me. Like how can she not see how goddamn beautiful she is and those things aren’t mutually exclusive. Her having some extra meat on her bones or being older has nothing to do with her physical traits. And that’s not even what matters to me…it’s just an added bonus that she’s hot.”

“Did you tell her all this?”

Eddie shakes his head as he reclines in his seat.

“Daddy got in the way.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to explain that. Lol.”

“Look, I assumed by the way she called me Daddy she had been in a dynamic like that before but she told me last night it was new for her.”

“Ok, I’m lost.”

The metalhead rolls his eyes playfully as he sticks his tongue out at you making you smile.

“She got sassy and called me ‘little boy’. As soon as I heard it, I wanted to punish her right then and there.”

“Punish?”

“Yeah, I have my own methods that usually has my partner turning into liquid goo but…”, he laughs. “We haven’t had that talk yet. We haven’t had any conversation about our relationship. I don’t know what’s too far or no goes. I apparently said SOMETHING to upset her but I don’t know what because her wall went up. The whole thing just ignited that side of me and since I don’t know how comfortable she is with all that…I had to ask her to leave. I knew…if she kept pushing… I might not be able to stop myself from throwing her over my knee and spanking that perfect ass.”

“Eddie lol”

“I’m serious, honey. Fuck, just the thought is making me hard.”

“Why don’t you show her?”

“My hard dick? I think that ship has sailed.”

“No! Lol. Show her what a punishment would look like. Give her a demonstration. If she’s open to calling you Daddy and trying all this, then show her everything THIS is.”

“Be Daddy and guide her.”

He reads your words over and over, his eyes flicking towards the camera as his eyebrows dip in what looks like confusion.

“Give her a demonstration, huh?”

“Shit.”

You forgot that was the wording you used with him when he told you about his OnlyFans.

“You know, Millennial. You’re so smart. See…this is why we’re friends.”, he laughs, seeming not to notice the identical wording. “Give me your number! I feel bad that you pay just to talk when we can do that for free.”

“I don’t mind, sweetheart. You deserve all the good things.”

***

“No, sir, I’m not…I’m just trying to explain our policy. If I could change it…Please, sir, please…please don’t scream at me.”, you sigh as you listen to the customer on the other end of the call. “Sir, I understand your frustration but…”

While you sat there strongly considering ‘accidently’ hanging up on this man yelling at you, your headset was abruptly lifted from your head and you swiveled your chair to see Eddie throw himself down in his, scooting closer to your side.

“Hello, sir, this is Edward, the manager at this facility. How can I help you out today?”, he lied.

Your slightly surprised expression watched him earnestly as he listened to the man speak.

“I see…Well as the representative explained, that’s not something we can compensate for…because of our policy…Sir, listen to me carefully…I said listen…You were already disrespectful to the kind person who tried to help you so you’re already on thin ice with me. If you raise your voice to me one more time, I’m going to disconnect the call.”

The echo in the speakers reverberated loudly as the customer started to scream again and the boy didn’t even hesitate as he leaned over your body to disconnect.

“You could get in trouble for that.”

“Hm, I could but knowing this shit company I probably won’t.”, he grins as he slides back to his side of the cubicle. “Plus, no one talks like that to my work wife.”

“Eddie? I’m sorry.”

The metalhead leans back in his seat as he his soft eyes scan you over.

“After work tonight, I’m making you dinner. Meet me at my place around 8.”

It wasn’t a request and you had absolutely no qualms with that. When you got off, you hastily went home to change, deciding on a black dress that knotted around your waist at the side of your hips accentuating your curves a bit more and cutting off mid-thigh showing off a feature of yourself you now knew he enjoyed.

Your black heels clacked against the path up to his front door and when Eddie opened it, you couldn’t help but feel overdressed. He was still wearing his black jeans and boots he wore to work that day but had changed into a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Wow…you look—”

“Wait, let me guess. Handsome?”, he teases as he invites you in and shuts the door behind you. “Thank you, sweetheart. You look absolutely breath taking. Please…have a seat.” After gesturing towards his table, he pulls out your chair and you grin politely as you sit down.

Your eyes continued to watch him as the metalhead pulled up his hair and moved about the kitchen, serving finished food on a plate and placing it in front of you before filling up a glass with wine to set beside it.

You waited patiently until he completed his tasks and sat down across from you to share the meal he made.

“Oh my god, Eddie…This is amazing!”

“Thank you. My mom showed me how to make it when I was kid.”

The two of you casually talked but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere. You weren’t sure what it was about this man but you desperately wanted to fall to your knees in front of him and beg for forgiveness for hurting him. You wanted to curl up in his lap and kiss his face till that gorgeous smile and dorky sense of humor returned.

You just wanted Eddie.

“What’s going on over there?”, he asked as his studious eyes watched you slightly fold into yourself.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“No one’s ever made me dinner before.”, you answer, your voice slightly cracking as you lightly giggled.

Rising to his feet, Eddie came to your side of the table and turned your body to face his as he kneeled in front of you, taking your palms in his rather large hand.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean to hurt you or insult you. I just…you were right. I’ve had people…relationships in my past talk about me negatively and I just—” His thumb gliding along your lips silenced you as your cheek turned into the palm he had rested against your face. “I’ve been single for a long time by choice. I’ve been so scared of getting hurt again… This whole thing with you is COMPLETELY new for me. I like you so much but there’s so many factors…my age, my weight, our work relationship… I’m scared.”

Slowly, the man pushes up to softly kiss your forehead, lingering there for a few moments and you take the opportunity to inhale his cologne while feeling the warmth that radiated from his chest.

“Come on, pretty girl.”, he whispers as he stands to his full height and takes your hand, leading down the hallway to his bedroom where he places you on the edge of his bed.

Grabbing his desk chair, Eddie sets it directly across from you and moves till his knees lightly graze yours.

“From this point forward tonight, you will refer to me as Daddy and you will only speak when you are spoken to. Do you understand me?”

His voice was still low but filled with a sexy husk that had your thighs rubbing together.

“Yes, Daddy.”, you reply breathily.

“Yes Daddy what?”

“Yes, Daddy, I understand.”

“Good.”, he nods, flashing you a gentle smile as he tilts towards you to lean on his elbows. “Now, occasionally throughout our time, I may ask you what color you are feeling. Green means good, yellow means slow down, and Red is stop.”

“Like a stop light.”

Eddie smirks as he nods.

“Yes, honey, just like a stop light. Now…did I ask you something for you to respond?”

Blinking, your head promptly hangs as you fiddle with your fingers.

“No, Daddy.”

“Alright, thank you for being honest and not giving me an excuse. I’ll let that slide for right now. It won’t happen again.” Craning his neck, his lips find yours and when he pulls away you bite your bottom lip to contain your giddy smile. “Red is our safe word. If at any point, you or even Daddy says that word that means we immediately stop playing right there. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable or I’m hurting you, just say that word and we stop. No questions asked. Well…besides me making sure you’re alright and taking care of you.

What do you say if Daddy is making you uncomfortable?”

“Red.”

“Atta girl.”, he praises. “When it comes to me, there isn’t much that makes me uncomfortable but since this is all new for you, sweetheart, what are some hard no goes for you?”

“I…I’m not sure. There are things I haven’t tried in a while because of the men in my past…Daddy.” You hurry your last word when you realize you almost forgot it and thankfully he seemed to let it go.

You were trying.

“Can you elaborate on that for me a bit, baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut as your ex’s voice echoed through your mind.

“God, Y/N, what are you doing?! You can’t be on top. Jesus, what were you thinking?”

“Um, no, sweetie, trust me. You can barely sit on my lap without crushing me. You think I can handle you on my face?”

“Pfft, toys and handcuffs? Baby…come on now. Bracelets I buy rarely fit around your wrists.”

A palm lightly tapping your cheek brought you back to reality as your eyes snapped open to meet Eddie’s.

“What color, Y/N?”

“Green.”, you whisper. “Green, Daddy.”

“I’m going to ask you something a bit personal and I’ll allow for this to go unanswered. Y/N, did your ex make you feel insecure about your body?”

It takes you a couple of minutes before you finally nod.

“Yes, Daddy, and some friends I used to have.”

“Are they here in Hawkins?” You shake your head. “Good because I would fucking tear them apart.”, he growled until his eyes met yours again and softened. “How about when we play we take it one thing at a time, ok?”

“O-Ok, Daddy.”

“Good, good girl. Now, I’m into things like spanking, slapping, stuff like that. How does that make you feel?”

“I’m willing to try, Daddy. I, um, I feel like I wouldn’t like…like being hit with things like a belt or…”

“Ok, none of that. That’s more harder dominate and I’m a soft dominate. I don’t get pleasure from doing that kind of stuff. No disrespect to people that do, consensually of course.”, Eddie chuckles making you smile.

“What do you get pleasure from?”

The man smirks as his chocolate irises scan along your frame.

“You…and submission…”, he purrs. “Speaking of, did you just speak without being spoken to? Mhmm.”, he hums when you start to hang your head again and he catches it between his fingers. “That’s being added to the tally. I am the kind of Daddy that punishes a bad girl and you were a bad girl the last time you were here.”

Your mouth fell open as he slides backward away from you, quirking his eyebrow as if daring you to speak again which you decline.

“One thing that really bothers Daddy is disrespect. You disrespected me when you called me ‘little boy’. Is that how you perceive me, honey?”

“No, Daddy, I swear!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I…I don’t know. I…”

“Did little girl have a big emotion she didn’t know how to handle so she just said the first mean thing that came to her mind?”

“Y-Y-Yes, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I—”

His palm across your face gave you pause as you grab your cheek and try to catch your breath. It wasn’t a hard slap but it absolutely got your attention.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, Daddy.”, you practically pant causing him to adjust the bulge in his jeans at the sound.

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You answer the question Daddy gives you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to spank you, Y/N. 5 for the disrespect, 5 for you speaking when you weren’t supposed to, and 5 for you disrespecting yourself.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at his statement as he nods and lightly tugs on your palms signaling for you to stand.

“Take off your dress for me, baby.”

Doing as he instructs; you glide your outfit off your shoulders and down your legs allowing it to pool below your feet. On impulse, you start to raise your arms to cover your body but he promptly grabs your wrists and forces them to your sides.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

“No, Daddy.”

Eddie’s intense, dark eyes drink you in from head to toe and once again, he shifts himself around in his pants.

“Goddamn, baby. We’ll have to get more matching sets for you because that black lace is fucking driving me crazy. Fuck. Lay down on your stomach with your head towards me on the bed.”

As you do what he says, the metalhead stands, unbuttoning his shirt before casually tossing it to the side and climbing on to his mattress behind you.

“Since this is the first punishment, I’m going to take it easy and relax some of my normal rules but I do want you to count after each one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Abruptly, he grabs your arms that had been resting under your head and holds them at the wrist behind your back.

“Louder, Y/N! I need to be able to hear you.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Good. Now keep your arms right fucking here.”, Eddie grumbles as you feel the bed jostle slightly. As his palms softly run along your thighs, you can’t help but moan. “I told you, baby, these thighs are fucking perfect.”

When his hand connected with your behind your entire body came to life as a squeak escaped your lips.

“Color, honey?”

“Green, Daddy.”

“What did I say to do after I spank you?”

“C-Count. One, Daddy.”

“You seemed confused when I mentioned disrespecting yourself. Let me make it clearer.”, he declares as he hits you again and you count it off. “You always make these comments about yourself; that because you have some curves that means you’re not beautiful.”

At the word “curves”, Eddie’s palm roughly grabs the meat of your ass before he spanks you again.

“That because you’ve lived a bit longer than someone then that means you’re not worthy of having fun or being with someone who would fucking worship you.”

*SPANK*

“That because a group of ignorant fuckers made you feel less than, then it must be true. No, baby. You. Are. Beautiful. Say it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

*SPANK*

“Louder like you fucking mean it!”

“Ahhh I’m beautiful, Daddy! I’m beautiful.”

You feel the atmosphere shift as his chest presses to your back and his lips caress the shell of your ear.

“Inside and out, Y/N.”, he murmurs, delicately kissing your cheek before tilting back. “Now, on to you disrespecting me.”

*SPANK*

“Six, Daddy.”

“Do you think I deserved that? You speaking to me that way?”

“No, sir.”

Eddie carefully pulls down your underwear and throws them towards his closet.

“Those are mine now. Fuck, baby girl, you’re so wet. Do you like Daddy spanking you?” You can’t help but pout at his mocking tone and in return he spanks your behind once more. “Don’t pout, little girl. You did this to yourself.”

Taking a hold of your thighs, he spread your legs open a bit more and you mewled when you felt his spit hit your pussy lips. His thumb collected the remnants and your mouth fell open as he pressed it against your clit.

*SPANK*

“E-Eight, Daddy, fuck.”

“What are you going to do next time you feel something like that?”

“Talk to—mmph—you.”

*SPANK*

“You’ll be open with Daddy instead of calling him names like a little brat?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

*SPANK*

“Because you know Daddy’s here to take care of you and would never do anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe.”

“Yeeesssss!”

Eddie’s fingers grasp the back of your neck as he holds you down and applies the perfect amount of pressure to your clit with his thumb that has your eyes rolling as you come undone.

While your body continued to spasm from pleasure, he gently turned you on to your side till your front half was facing him.

“You’re doing so well, baby, taking your punishment like a good girl. We’re almost done. What color are we at, sweetheart?”, he softly cooed as he pets your hair.

“Green, Daddy.”

“Good. You wouldn’t lie to Daddy right?”

“No.”, you giggle as you keen into the mattress causing a knowing smile to flicker along his lips.

You’re exactly where he wants you to be; you’ve dropped into the right headspace and thankfully, you seem comfortable.

Pushing back onto his knees, Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle and your wide, glassy eyes find his as he frees his cock from its confinement.

“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” Without question, you do what he asks and your eyes flutter closed as he guides himself inside. “You don’t have to count anymore but I want you to keep still and let Daddy use you, ok?”

When you nod, he utilizes one palm to grip your hair as his other spanks your behind. You moan around him and his chest vibrates at the feeling.

“Shit…atta girl. That’s my girl.” His hand comes down once more while he steadily thrusts his hips. “Tap my thigh if it’s too much, baby, since your mouth is full. Fuck, I wish you could see how gorgeous you are right now.”

*SPANK*

“That’s it. Tongue flat…breathe through y-your nose…”

When his hand comes down this time, the one he has threaded through your hair clings down tighter as he remains still feeling you gag around him.

“You can take it, baby, fuck! A couple more seconds!”

When he finally pulls back, Eddie spanks you one final time and fully lets you go to allow his face to be level with your own.

“You did so good, baby girl. What color are you at?”

You cough as he continues to caress your face but instead of answering, you startle him when you dive into his embrace, pushing him back against his pillows as you cry.

“I-I’m so sorry, Daddy. I promise…I’ll try to be more open with you…and talk to you when I’m…feeling something. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I really appreciate that. Can you answer my question for me so I know you’re alright?”

“I’m ok. Green, Daddy, Green.” Eddie smiles as he tilts back to kiss your sweaty forehead. “The zipper of your pants is kind of pinching me though.”, you jest, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he laughs and adjusts you both till he’s on top of you after pulling off his jeans the rest of the way.

“Sorry, pretty girl. Here, let’s take this off.”

As he reaches blindly behind your back to unhook your bra, you tenderly trail soft kisses along his shoulder to the crook of his neck. After the garment falls to the floor beside the bed, the metalhead’s lips latch on to your nipple and on impulse your legs wrap around him as your fingers tangle in his hair trying to pull him closer.

“Fuck, everything on you tastes so sweet.”, Eddie whispers against your skin as his tongue licks between the valley of your chest to your neck.

While he sucks that sweet spot along your throat, you feel him reach between your bodies before you both groan as he guides his cock into your entrance.

“Your okay, baby. Daddy’s got you.” His words cause your pussy to clench tighter around him and he grunts at the feeling as he lifts his head to rest his forehead on yours. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart.”

Eddie watches you struggle to do what he asked as your eyelids flutter open and your jaw drops, your breath warming his mouth as he rolls his hips. The contrast between the gruffness earlier to the softness now felt so euphoric and you were enjoying every minute of it.

Pushing up onto his palms, he picked up his rhythm, firmly pumping his length deeper inside you than anyone else had ever been.

“Don’t—shit—don’t take those beautiful eyes off me.”

“Y-You feel…feel so good…”

“Yeah? Daddy’s cock feels good? Keep talking to me, baby.”

“Don’t…don’t stop…please. I need to feel you cum.”

A breathy fuck left his lips as his head hung and the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his hair tie grazed cheek. Your hands found purchase on any part of his body you could touch, his sweaty chest, his muscular back, and his equally damp neck. You leaned up to press your mouth to his and the taste of his tongue mingling with yours was more than enough to drive you over the edge.

Eddie felt it immediately, falling flat against you to roll his hips as hard as he could till you body shook and came.

“Good…good girl. Daddy’s gonna give you what you want.”, he whispered with exasperation, desperate for his own release. After a sexy smirk and a soft caress of his nose against yours, his head fell to the side as he chased his high, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room till you heard him loudly grunt in your ear.

His fingers dug into the pillow beside you as he slammed his spend into your cunt and your limbs clung tightly around him, guiding his movement with your palms on his ass.

You were in such a total state of bliss you didn’t even feel him get out of bed until you were being lifted into the air.

“Whoa, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m just taking you to the shower. You’re ok.”, he comforted as you quickly clung to his neck.

You hissed briefly when warm water hit your behind but once it subsided, you melted into the water pressure. Eddie kneeled in front of you and tenderly kissed parts of your skin as he reached for something behind you. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing, surprising you when the feel of a washrag carefully glided along your frame.

No one had ever done this for you before. No one had ever taken the time to do any kind of aftercare let alone be this in depth. Your eyes carefully watched as he focused in on his task, being extra gentle when the rag ran along his handprints on your ass.

Rising to his feet, he cleaned the rest of you and as soon as he was done, you (a bit roughly) wrapped your arms around his waist as you placed your head against his chest. His own arms circled around you, holding you to him as he rested his cheek on top of your hair. You listened to his heartbeat as he silently held you; for how long you weren’t sure nor did you care.

When you finally pulled back and your eyes met his, you saw nothing but care.

After spinning you around, you giggled as he allowed the water to drench his hair and body while he haphazardly ran his palm with soap along his skin. When Eddie was done, he made you laugh harder as he turned off the faucet and shook his head like a dog in your direction while trying to contain his own smile.

“Wait right here for one second, ok?”, he asked after guiding you out and handing you a towel.

The metalhead wasn’t gone for long and when he returned, he hastily dried you making you realize that you hadn’t even begun doing the task yourself waiting for him to come back and take care of you.

When he brought you back out into his bedroom, you took note that he changed the sheets and laid out some essentials onto his mattress. Once he had a pair of boxers on, Eddie turned you away from him as he took a seat on his bed and after a few moments you felt something cold touch your skin.

“Op, sorry. I should have given you a little warning. This is lotion to prevent any kind of bruising or anything like that to this sexy ass.”, he conveys, his smile growing when you laugh. “You may be a bit sore for a day or two but… Do you feel like you need anything else, honey? Ice or anything?”

“No, thank you.”, you reply in a small voice that tells him you’re still slightly in that headspace.

“Ok, pretty girl. How are feeling in here?”, Eddie asks as his fingers reach up to playfully tap your forehead.

“I feel ok…calm…I’ve never…no one has ever taken care of me after.”

The boy notices your expression sadden slightly and as he pulls a big shirt over your head; he kisses your lips and brings you closer to him.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me, sweetheart. No matter what, Daddy will take care of you and do aftercare. That’s another important rule, ok? After we play, I need you to be open and honest with me about how you feel. If you’re in pain or your head feels a bit heavy and low, let me know.”

“I promise.”

Nodding to himself, he reaches for the water bottle he brought, handing it to you so you can chug some of it back before handing it off to him who promptly finishes the rest and tosses it towards the trashcan.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean, babe?”

Blinking and shifting bashfully, you try to answer his question while in your current headspace.

“How do I…aftercare you?”

Eddie beams up at you so wide you can’t help but blush before he circles his arms around your waist and pulls you back into his bed.

“Taking care of you is my aftercare but I love that you asked me that. I promise though, if I need anything I’ll be open and honest with you.” His gaze shifts for a moment as a thought passes. “This is more a less what being in a sexual relationship with me is like, Y/N. Was there anything I did that you would rather we not do?”

“I liked it, Eddie…all of it.”

“Good…good. That’s why I had you leave the other day. We hadn’t had this talk yet and I didn’t know what you were comfortable with. When it comes to being Daddy, I can be stern when I need to be. When I’m with Steve, we usually do the harder stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Restraints, slapping, toys, humiliation…”

“Maybe…maybe I can watch one day…if you’re comfortable with that.”

Eddie’s slightly surprised expression meets your serious one.

“Are you sure? I sense that you’ve been through some things…I mean you alluded to…I don’t want you to feel like I’m cheating on you… I haven’t even been on my site except to talk to that friend I told you about.”

Fuck…I forgot about that…

“Eddie, I have to tell you something.”

As his soft, earnest eyes waited for you speak, you couldn’t help the fear that weld up in your throat. Eddie was the nicest, most caring man you had ever been with and you were afraid once you came clean you’d lose him.

You just got him back after hurting him once already…

“I…just wanted to tell you…it doesn’t bother me. I know you’re only doing it for the money.”

The metalhead breathes a sigh of relief as he leans down to kiss your lips.

####################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @twirls827 @micheledawn1975 @chelebelletx @hardladyheart @spiderxbatty @twirls827 @daveythorntonslocker @eddies-dungeon-and-dragon @mrsjellymunson @utterlyinsanity

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ihatedtoadmit · 2 days ago

Text

Too much

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: self-hatred

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Loneliness is a silent killer, although when you notice its presence, you almost run into its blade willingly, had it not been for Chan to save you from yourself.

a/n: I know. Chan again. I apologise but he is my comfort place, in a sense.

↳ Main Masterlist

It was supposed to be a normal day, like any other, yet the weight in my chest only proved me wrong. It settled over me like a veil–, no, like chains, dragging me down to the bottom of the sea. Darkness enveloped me now, both in mind and in body, form hidden beneath the thick layer of my blanket. Even its fuzzy texture and soft fibres couldn’t comfort me, something I had thought impossible before.

Now, it was my reality.

I had woken up like usual, left alone in the shared apartment of my significant other. He worked hard, far harder than anyone I’d ever known, passionate about his job to a degree I could only ever hope to understand. My own work was remote, not needing me to leave the house much, if at all. Still, that had never stopped him from leaving me a message on my phone, always leading to us chatting until he got back home.

Until those messages had turned more and more sparse, comeback season having kept him understandably busy. It had always been a stressful season for him and the entire team, a fact I understood without a doubt.

Yet, on this particular day, a realisation had dawned on me: I relied on him too much.

For so long – practically between comeback seasons – we spent our days together, may that be through phone or not. And as he now worked away in his studio, far too busy to check my message, I’d realised how empty I felt. How my days were spent waiting for a notification, my heart caring too much about one person.

Talking with others didn’t feel the same, or at least those who understood me to a similar degree to him were just as busy, if somehow not more. I’d become isolated in this place, a prison of my own doing.

How I despised my heart for choosing who to trust the most, who to run to for attention when possible, like a touch-starved dog begging for headpats.

It was what had driven me beneath my blanket, curled up until my joints shifted and bones creaked, entirely too weakly body groaning in protest. I understood why it was screaming at me as it was I who had decided to lay there for hours, unmoving, on the verge of tears yet not quite letting them fall. Every single time my thoughts took a turn and over-analysed another interaction with someone, with him, my eyes turned glossy, imprisoning those crystalline droplets like my thoughts had imprisoned me.

I couldn’t believe how clingy I had become, how deeply it was embedded into my nature despite my endless tries to get rid of it, ever since I was a child. No human being could ever possibly give me this much of their attention, no matter how they said it was fine, as it was physically impossible.

I’d been hurt by those promises too much in the past to believe them again.

Yet, even now, I kept listening, breath stilling just so I could hear the soft buzzing of my phone: the telltale sign of a notification. None came, however, and I was left only feeling worse, like a leech that had somehow managed to deceive those around it. They hadn’t signed up for someone like me upon the beginning of our friendships; nobody would have expected to suddenly get a friend who needed attention practically all day and week.

My body shivered and I only curled up tighter, the day now gone with me having done nothing at all. No chores, no hobbies, nothing. I was lucky enough to have had today off work-wise, although perhaps it would have taken my mind off of this thing.

I wasn’t sure, although I would have had this realisation sooner or later anyway.

The lock turned and I froze, body straining to check my phone for a time. The sudden light blinded me and yet I powered through it, burning eyes confirming my suspicions: it was far too early for Chan to be home.

His steps had already halted somewhere in the living room, voice laced with worry as he called out to me. It was enough for me to know that I would be caught had I gone out to greet him, nowhere near a state stable enough to pretend I was fine. My glossy eyes only watered more from having checked my phone, sensitive to the bright light after being in the darkness for so long.

The door slowly creaked open and light poured in from behind me, yet I remained still, hoping he’d think I was asleep. It was strange enough I hadn’t greeted him back, tall form laden with comfy clothes and waddling out to greet him with an all-encompassing hug.

Now he only got a small lump under a blanket, still and unresponsive.

His voice was quiet as he called out to me again, gentle, as if speaking any louder would shatter me. The hand that now caressed my shoulder was equally gentle, if not more, careful to not put any pressure on me. Despite that I didn’t move, mindful of my breathing and keeping it steady.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Apparently I was much too late to pretend I was fine, easy to read like an open book.

“Are you having a bad day mentally, or physically?” – he tried again, that beautiful voice even more tender, just for my sake.

I shifted then, curling up even tighter, if possible, yet it wasn’t enough to break the connection we had. Chan’s hand remained firm on my shoulder, as if it was written in the fabric of reality to be so.

“How did you know?” – my voice was small, too small, yet he didn’t comment on it. “You only ever do this when something’s wrong. Besides, this is your comfort blanket, love. You use it when you want to feel cosy and whenever you’re in need of a hug. Don’t shut me out, please? We’ve talked about this. Let me hug you, let me take care of you.”

His words were met with silence, although my lower lip was trembling as the coil within my chest was wound too tight now. He didn’t see it, of course not, it was physically impossible. I’d positioned myself to not be seen, ashamed of myself and who I’d become, who I truly was.

The hold on my shoulder tightened ever so slightly, worry no doubt coursing through Chan’s veins at my lack of response. It was extremely rare for one of us to do this, to go completely silent; we’d laid down some rules in our relationship long ago, just so there wouldn’t be any hurt feelings over misunderstandings. But I couldn’t speak now.

Not when doing so would break the dam inside my heart, letting everything ugly I’d kept inside spill out and taint this wonderful person.

Chan didn’t speak again as he instead let his actions do all the talking, the bed dipping behind me as he laid down. I wasn’t engulfed and I wasn’t moved; he simply had that hand on my arm now, thumb going back and forth in a comforting motion I didn’t deserve. He didn’t know how it only made me feel worse, to receive comfort when I was the one supposed to be giving it.

To be so weak and dependent on someone who was already dealing with too many things, it disgusted me.

I disgusted myself.

I wasn’t sure how long we had remained like that, just him quietly laying behind me as I fought against my tears. Eventually I failed, the droplets spilling forth and leaving behind glistening trails on my skin. A soft sniffle escaped me without my consent, causing the hold on my arm to tighten, yet Chan never pressed for a response or explanation.

He knew it wouldn’t work, knew it would only cause me to shut myself off.

Instead the sheets rustled as I moved sluggishly, limbs aching and joints popping. I could already see the grimace on his face at the sounds, knowing not all were natural but due to the state of my withering body. No matter, it wasn’t important right now.

“Channie, be honest. Am I too much?”

I watched as his expression shifted, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He probably didn’t expect such a question without warning, although to me, its presence made complete sense. This gaping emptiness in my chest perhaps hadn’t formed today, but I finally noticed it and things couldn’t stay the same. Not anymore.

I couldn’t keep being this dependent on a few people, on him all alone.

“What? Where did you even get this idea? Of course you’re not. You’re my baby, my love, my everything. Did someone comment something like this again?” – his voice was rushed, firm, as if in a race to reassure me.

I shook my head, denying his claims.

“Then what happened? Where did you get that stupid idea from?”

My eyes momentarily closed as his hand slid up to my face, wiping a few tears away, only to have more in their wake. He didn’t stop though and instead lingered there, the missed warmth of his hand slowing the droplets’ descent.

“I just realised some things now that you’re busy. Nobody said anything to me.”

Those warm orbs twisted at my words, turning darker and pained. Both his hands held my face now and with so much affection I felt like I was robbing the man, feeling a twist in my stomach at just how worried he seemed now.

“And what did you realise?” – his voice was smaller this time, as if afraid to ask, to know.

A deep inhale expanded my chest forcefully, yet once again not enough to sever our bond. His hands remained firmly in place, thumbs catching my ever-falling tears, causing my chest to tighten impossibly more. The ends of my lips dipped the moment I could feel the dam cracking within my heart, within my soul, disgusting tar and sewage leaking out through the thin openings.

And he stood at its foot, arms open, ready to let it wash over him.

“How can you tolerate me? I yap and whine a lot, even when I know you’re busy and stressed. Even now, I should be the one comforting you and yet here I am, breaking down, again. This isn’t fair towards you, to have someone so demanding as me as your partner. Or as someone in your life in general. I’m clingy and can easily overthink things, needing constant reassurance that nobody has the fucking time or energy to give. Of course they don’t, it’s physically impossible, so why? Why do you look at me like this, as if seeing me in pain hurts you?” – my voice died near the end, cracking from the unbearable weight of my emotions.

Chan didn’t hesitate.

Steady arms pulled me close and buried me into his chest, as if he was openly offering the place for me to live. His heart beat strongly in its cage, and I didn’t doubt that he would have scooted it away just to give me space there. It was such a Chan thing to do, to give without needing anything back and it only drove that self-inflicted knife deeper into my own chest.

“That’s not true. Maybe you don’t believe me right now, but none of what you said is true.”

His hold on me only tightened as he muttered those words into my hair, holding me so tight it felt as if he thought I would disappear otherwise.

“First of all, you take care of me plenty, my love. You always check in on me, leave me something each day to enjoy. Sometimes it’s a small note with a doodle and a short, but sweet message on it, other times it’s some cookies I can take in and eat with the boys. Just the other night you held me like this, lulling me to sleep with your gentle touches and humming.”

A violent sob tore itself out of me at that, two sides of my mind warring against each other. One wanted to believe Chan’s words, that I had some worth and wasn’t just some greedy bastard, while the other was incapable of accepting such things. They fought against each other in a violent battle, rendering me a sobbing mess in someone’s arms who I didn’t even think I was deserving of.

Yet, Chan’s arms remained around me, as if saying ‘You do deserve it’.

“Secondly, you always do your best to respect my space out of your own volition. I’ve never had to ask for it, because whenever you know I’m at work or stressed, you keep to yourself a bit. Only when I replied or I’m obviously free do you bombard me with messages or cutely start rambling about a new hyperfixation of yours. And I love it when you do that. I love seeing you be so excited about something that you nearly burst at the seams, and even be more excited to tell me about it.” – his voice was tender, so sure in itself even in its wavering state.

I didn’t react, overwhelmed by the emotions wrecking my body from the inside, despicable and ugly.

Yet, he still loved me like this, and I couldn’t understand how.

“You’ve never been too much, love. It’s okay to feel lonely at times, to feel more comfortable with certain people than others. That’s why I and your closest friends are here, and I’m sure they’d say the same. We love you both when you’re quiet and more reserved, and when you can barely contain your excitement over wanting to share something.”

A hiccup escaped me at that, and I just knew I’d tainted his t-shirt, terribly so.

“But you’re busy and stressed, and also have to take care of the boys besides yourself. I don’t—I don’t want to add onto that by being clingy. I hate that I feel the need to do so.” “You wouldn’t, my love. Never. But to make you feel better, how about I’ll put my phone on don’t disturb when I’m busy, hm? Then you can message me whenever you want, and when I’m free, I’ll reply shortly. Would that make you feel better?”

I nodded into his shirt, although that solution was a mere bandage to an open wound. Blood kept gushing from it as the plaster could do nothing against its force, only time and self-reflection able to heal it, if anything.

My knuckles turned white from the force I held onto him, greedily basking in his warmth despite knowing I shouldn’t.

“Please don’t ever keep it in if you ever feel like this again. I’m always there for you, my love, always. And you should know by now, silly,” – his voice gained a certain lightness to it, desperately hoping to lift this heavy atmosphere in the room – “I love nothing more than taking care of the boys, taking care of you. It’s what drives me to be better, to always be there for you in case of anything.”

His lips pressed into the crown of my head, sending warmth gently crawling down my spine, easing the knots in my stomach and the tense state of my muscles.

“You give so much yet ask for nothing, deriving yourself of even your basic needs.” “Perhaps that’s why Seungminnie said you’re dating a version of yourself.”

A chuckle blossomed in Chan’s chest at that, brief but sincere all the same. I smiled at the sound, unable to keep it in when it was one of my favourites.

“Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?” “Always, my love. Always.”

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star-suh · 1 day ago

Text

Challenger

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: here johnny is 40 years old, pwp, feminization kink.

—

“you shouldn’t act like a bitch if you're not gonna be one”.

those words echoed on yn's mind while his ass is being obliterated by johnny. it all started as a dumb challenge –mark told yn that he's not gonna be capable to seduce his dad's friend, “mark please don't be dumb, johnny is straight my dad once told me he had a wife”, “had?” mark asked, “they divorced” yn tells him, “honestly i don't know why… he's sexy”, “i know” mark agrees with him, “that means you have a chance” he adds.

“mark be serious, besides what would i won if i accept the challenge, would you pay me?” –mark laughs, “isn't it obvious? you would won a night with such a fine gentleman” he laughs, “what's the matter with you? why would you challenge me to do something like that” yn questioned him. “i just want to know if your capable of seducing him”... yn looks at him with a dead serious expression “such a dumb reason” yn mutters.

seeing that at the end of the day nothing would happen, that johnny wouldn't pay attention to this he agreed to do it –mark eubbed his hands together, as if he just crafted an evil plan, “see you tomorrow, tell me what happened” he hugs yn and leaves.

yn started with his plan, acting flirty all over johnny who was visiting his dad, taeyong, while the latter was on the kitchen or searching for something on his bedroom yn was sitting besides johnny praising his big frame, “can you flex them for me?” yn asked, his fingers grazing johnny's biceps. he did, flexing his arm for yn to touch and praise him more for his hard work in the gym. johnny saw this as just the son of his friend seeing him as an inspiration for who knows, maybe starting to exercise too. he just went with it following yn's requests until he saw how yn purposefully bend in front of him with the excuse to pick it up something, this wasn't a normal bending to pick something, when yn does it he stick his ass out so johnny can fantasize with it. it doesn't help that it looked like yn was not wearing something under it, the tight fabric of the short hugging nicely his ass and thighs not letting anything to the imagination.

yn whore himself out in front of the older, all that attention gowing straight to johnny's bulge that twitches in excitement, who would've thought that after his divorce he still has in him the ability of driving someone crazy and make him horny for him. “man i need to go, beers ran out and the ones you like are sold only on the mall but i try to get here as soon as possible” taeyong apologizes to his friend, “yn be sure yo treat johnny nicely while i'm not here”. “yes dad” yn said –bored, johnny hasn't accepted his advances so he just accepted his defeat, losing mark's challenge, “now i have to stand his ass bitching around for god knows when” he whispered dissapointed. he was about to go to his bedroom when johnny stops him, his hand grabbing yn's wrists.

johnny doesn't play games and yn would know that soon.

yn was on his knees –head against the edge of the coach and his throat being railed by his dad's friend thick meat. with a leg placed on the edge of the coach too and the other on the floor, knee bend to find the perfect angle to fuck yn's throat. “if you're gonna act like a bitch, throwing yourself around to any man who crosses your path then you should take responsibility and be one”.

yn gagged on it, his throat becoming slippery, slobbering all his saliva on johnny's lenght –the perfect place to put his dick in. johnny then places both kness on the edge of the couch, with yn's head in the middle of them and his dick still buried deep inside the other's throat. he thrusted, feeling his orgasm coming, “get ready to be fed, slut”. thick splooge flooding his throat making him choke on it, gagging with the thick liquid. “fuckk!! swallow it all if you want to breath again. i'm not pulling out until you do it”. the warm liquid went down his throat, swallowing it little by little, like the obedient little slut he is.

“time for pussy pounding”.

johnny spreaded yn’s ass wide open, staring at the needy hole in front of him, he put his throbbing hot dick to rest on top of it, the hole pulsating when it feel it, needy, wanting to have it inside it. “let's give this pussy real man cock, not the ones of your twinky dumb friends that don't know how to pound pussy”. he push his head past the ring of muscles, “so fuh-... tight” he growls.

“see, this useless pussy can barely take my size” he spanks it, “i'm going to teach it how to take old man cock properly”. he slams himslef against yn, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull it, the bottom arching his back in a perfect curve, “why aren't you being a whore like before now. wasn't this what you wanted?”. yn was cockdrunk already, johnny’s dick being too much for him right now, his throat sore after all the railing he did before –also drunk with johnny's cum, ‘real man cum’ as the older would say.

the cockdrunk yn cried “we have to stop, my dad could come any time soon”, but johnny ignored him –focused on molding his boypussy with the shape of his big dick. “i don't care, that way he knows the slut of a son he has”. johnny wowed at how yn's hole gripped on his shaft when he pulls out yn's ass quivered sucking him in again, not letting him go, he laughs –eyebrows raised in surprise– “it seems this pussy has an owner now. i claimed it as mine”.

johnny's heavy balls plapped against yn's, “how does it feel to be fucked by a real man?” he continued –belittling other sexual relationships yn had before, “shoo good~” he slurs, “breed this boypussy, your boypussy… daddy”.

as if a switch was turned on by yn, johnny went feral mode jabbing his dick uncontrollably on yn's slippery hole, his swollen shaft opening his walls wide while his veins scrapped them deliciously, hearts appearing on yn's eyes when his hole guzzled down his massive load of spooge –completely gone now, johnny succeded on breaking him to make him his toy, yn became addicted to his muscles, musk, cock, cum… addicted to everything about johnny.

days later taeyong texted johnny *how're the lessons going?* the man opened the chat and texted him back, *he's good but i think i need to teach him more, just in case* johnny looked down staring at yn kneeling in front of him sucking his length while prepping his hole for johnny to use. “this pussy misses this cock” he strokes the slobbered shaft, “put it inside please. since that day no one has been able to fuck me as good as you daddy” he opened his legs pushing his knees towards his chest with the help of his arms, he rubs his hole as if telling johnny to come here to take it “no one has been able to fill my molded boypussy as you did, it seems that it only wants your big daddy dick now” he pouts.

johnny positions himself on all fours on the floor, towering over yn's smaller frame, “is that so?” his lips ghosted over yn's, teasing him, lips barely touching each other. when johnny pulls his tongue out yn tries to catch it with his lips and suck it but johnny hides it quickly –laughing. “then let me continue molding it to my size, i'm addicted to your pussy too” he confesses, pounding him over and over again, unloading lots of cum on both holes. “good whores deserve to be well fed” the older man mutters.

“once you try the cock of a real man there's no going back”.

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berfgrimm · 16 hours ago

Text

staring at the sun: bae bae | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, dirty talk, deepthroating, fluff, spanking, biting. i think that’s pretty much it?

note: the final part of staring at the sun. i appreciate everyone’s patience for this, and I hope you all enjoy! i’ve linked the previous parts below.

staring at the sun | phone call | payback | valentine

———————

Seunghyun convinces you to move in with him ten minutes after his bandmates find out about your relationship. Truth be told, you were ready to move in the moment he suggested it, but you wanted to play hard to get; now that he has you, it felt more fun.

His persuasion technique is clever, if not slightly diabolical. Once he pulls you into the shower with him, he takes some time to kiss you and touch you gently as the water cascades around both of you. When he helps you wrap your legs around his waist with your back pinned to the shower wall, pumping into you slowly and deeply, he suddenly stops. You clench around and try to use the strength of your legs to urge him to continue, but he only grins deviously.

“Are you going to move in with me?” Seunghyun asks, placing teasing kisses along your jaw. You whimper in response, your nails digging into his back as you try to find the words to beg him. “You can feel this every single night,” he continues, pulling himself out of you just a little. “You can taste me every night.”

“Baby,” you whine. “You know I’ll move in…please, don’t stop.” Seunghyun laughs excitedly, kissing you on the lips so hard, your head bumps against the wall behind you. You attempt a laugh against his lips, but it comes out in a muffled moan when Seunghyun shoves himself back inside of you.

Over the next few days, Seunghyun enlists the help of his bandmates to move you into his home. The other men ask more questions than you expect, desperate to know when you started your secret relationship. You notice the more questions they ask, the more irritated Seunghyun becomes and when you have a moment alone in the kitchen, you corner him to find out the problem.

“I don’t feel like sharing today,” he admits, avoiding eye contact with you. You bite your lip to hide the smile because you rarely see him look this vulnerable and annoyed. “What’s funny?” he asks, when he finally looks at you.

“You’re jealous that I’m getting along with your friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” Seunghyun responds.

“You did, a little bit,” you laugh.

“Oh, yeah?” Seunghyun chuckles along with you, trying to keep a serious look but failing. “That’s funny to you? That I don’t want to share you with them?” He grabs your hips and yanks you closer to him, kissing you aggressively to make you laugh. When he tries to slide his hands into your back pockets, you grab his forearms and pull them away from you, pinning them behind his back with a smile on your face.

“You're crazy if you think I’m going to let you do anything like that while they’re still here,” you laugh. Seunghyun gives you a pout, pretending to struggle hard against your gentle grip on his arms. He finally drops his shoulders and lets out a dramatic sigh, no longer able to hide the smile on his face. “When they leave, we can lay in your bed and you can touch my ass all you want,” you joke, releasing his arms.

“Our bed,” he corrects, grabbing your hips again to pull you towards him for a soft kiss. Your heart skips a beat at the way it sounds: our bed.

“Fine,” you whisper. “But it’s still my ass.”

“No, it’s not, it’s mine.” His hands quickly slip past your waist and he pinches you, causing you to let out a yelp and shove him away, your laugh loud enough to alert the others.

“You can’t do that while we’re here,” Taeyang scolds, as they reenter the room.

“Did we walk into this again?” Daesung laughs.

“I don’t want to watch that,” Jiyong says.

“I tried to tell him,” you shrug. “But he does whatever he wants.”

The rest of the day is smoother, Seunghyun lightens up and is more willing to joke. That night he takes you up on your offer to touch you as much as he wants, but you have no complaints.

The next few days seem to fly by. You get adjusted into your new home with ease, though you feel the urge to pinch yourself because it doesn’t feel real. Standing at the kitchen sink, cleaning a glass, your mind wanders to how quickly things changed for you, and how happy you are. Until you hear Seunghyun enter the kitchen and feel him step between you and the island counter.

”Don’t turn around,” Seunghyun says, his voice a little stern, but also mischievous. You set your cup down in the sink and turn off the taps, staring at the wall ahead of you as you wait for what comes next. “Close your eyes,” he speaks slowly, but you can feel his breath against your neck.

When you close your eyes, you focus on his proximity to you, heat radiating from him. It’s silent, apart from the sound of both of you breathing, and you can only wait for his next instruction.

“I take care of you, don’t I?” His voice is low, but you can still feel his breath hot on your skin, sending a shiver through you. “I give you everything you need,” he continues, nuzzling his head against yours. “Don’t I?”

“Of course you do, baby,” you whisper, gripping the edge of the sink as you feel your knees getting weak just from the way he speaks.

“And you know how to take care of me,” Seunghyun says. “You know exactly what I need…and what I love…” You can tell he leans closer to you, just barely brushing against you as you feel his arms reach past you, presumably to brace against the sink as well. “You’re a good girl,” he goes on. “My good girl…my princess.”

“I love taking care of you,” you mumble. You inch your hand along the sink to place atop his, when you feel he’s wearing leather gloves. “Are you —?” You stop short when you look down at his hands, and see tan gloves along with thepurple sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, god,” you mutter, tipping your head back to bump softly against his.

“Surprise,” he whispers against your ear.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I told you I would. I like to keep my promises.”

“But this is so—”

“Does it turn you on that this is how I’m dressed right now?” A flush spreads across your body and you aren’t sure if it’s from the way his voice sounds or the embarrassment to admit how attractive you think he looks in this specific outfit. “It’s just you and I, princess,” he adds, slipping his hands from your grasp and placing them on top of yours. “We’re in our home…we can do whatever we want here. We can say whatever we want here.”

“Fuck, Seunghyun,” you mumble, shifting your weight to to press your body against his.

“Tell me, princess,” he groans in your ear, grinding against you softly. “Does it turn you on?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “It does. Please let me see you.”

“You don’t have to beg me, baby.” You can hear Seunghyun smiling as he speaks, and it increases the butterflies in your stomach. He releases his hold on your hands, allowing you to turn around and face him.

You could try for years and you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint what turns you on about this look in particular. Being close to him while he’s dressed this way, being able to touch him like you’d envisioned before, you find it hard to focus on what it is you want to do. Your eyes dart all over him, taking in the teal waistcoat, the orange tie, the purple suit, and the contacts.

“Go to the bedroom,” Seunghyun directs, his eyes focused on your mouth. “Take off your clothes.” You nod, still lost in your thoughts about how he looks, not completely tuned into what he says. “Go,” he urges, squeezing your side.

You follow instructions, going to the bedroom and taking off your clothes. You’re down to your bra and panties when Seunghyun walks into the room, walking slowly, almost a strut, as he sizes you up. You feel nervous under his gaze, bringing back the old feelings from when you first began your relationship with him. He notices your sudden shyness, and sidles up to you, placing his hand against your lower back to hold you close.

“Relax,” Seunghyun whispers with a smile. “If you feel shy, remember: you’re home with me.” When you nod in response, he places a soft kiss to your lips and then slips past you to climb onto the bed, settling comfortably at the head of the bed with his back against the pillows.

Even with his contacts in, you can read the adoration in his expression as you remove the rest of your clothes and step towards the side of the bed. He holds out his gloved hand, and you take it to support your movements as he leads you onto the bed, straddling him.

“Now,” Seunghyun says, setting his hands on your hips and urging you to press your weight fully onto him. “What do you want to do?” The fabric of his pants rubs against you as you squirm, trying to avoid the urge to fully grind against him. “Is that what you pictured?” he asks, peering up at you for a moment before averting his gaze to his lap to watch you rub against him. “You’re wet already just from talking?”

“You get me like this,” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss.

Seunghyun smiles against your lips, then quickly slips his tongue into your mouth. You feel the leather of his glove as one of his hands slides from your hip up to your ribs, painfully slow until he cups your breast. You pull in a breath, leaning back to give him a bit of space to do what he wants.

The sight of him looking up at you while he drags his thumb across your nipple, a sheepish expression on his face that you’re certain is his way of teasing you with those contacts in, is almost too much to bear. He leans closer again, pressing a kiss to your other breast, near your nipple, while his thumb teases the opposite. He traces around your nipple with the tip of his tongue, then takes it into his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair to hold him close, grinding your hips against him. When Seunghyun’s teeth graze over your nipple, you tighten your grip on his hair, giving a small tug without really meaning to.

“Mmm,” he hums, tipping his head back, looking up at you as he licks his lips. “I would have moved you in with me sooner if I knew this is what I’d be treated to.”

Seunghyun slides his hands over your body, the leather gloves rubbing against the skin of your stomach and your thighs. The sensation begins to feel too synthetic and you ache to feel his soft hands on you instead, so you grab his wrists to stop him. He peers up at you with his brow furrowed at first until you begin to remove the gloves.

“I should have known better than to keep my hands hidden from you,” he mutters, a smirk spreading across his lips, as you toss the gloves to the floor. “How do you want me to touch you now?” He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side to catch your gaze. “What did you think of me doing to you while dressed like this?”

“You can do whatever you want,” you sigh, grasping the sides of his face to angle his head up to kiss him deeply. Seunghyun’s fingers curl around your hips, coaxing you to grind against him again. “Fuck,” you mutter against his lips, pressing your forehead to his when you feel him through his pants. “You love to talk about how wet I get, but I can feel how hard you are right now.”

“You should know how much you turn me on by now, princess,” he mutters, gripping your hips more firmly to force you to move faster. “Knowing how much you need me…and how much you think about me…I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hmm, you look so beautiful like this,” he breathes, kissing your jaw and your neck tenderly. When you circle your hips, Seunghyun lets out a strangled groan and gives a surprisingly hard bite to your neck.

“Fuck!” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders. He looks up at you with a slightly worried expression, but you only grind yourself faster against him.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “I know we haven’t really—”

“It felt really good,” you whimper.

“You like that, hm?” he asks, with a smirk.

“You’re going to make me come on your lap if we do this too much longer.”

The expression on his face shifts to something mischievous, as though he takes your words as a challenge instead of a warning. He tries to urge you to quicken your pace by squeezing your hips, but you tense, slowing your movements as you begin to conjure up a new idea. You smile, reaching between your bodies, undoing his belt.

Seunghyun licks his lips in anticipation, watching as you unfasten his pants and shift your hips enough to reach into his briefs. As soon as your fingers make contact with him, you tug him free from the fabric, stroking over the length of him at a slow pace. You pause for a moment to slip your fingers between your own thighs, gathering your juices and using them to coat his erection.

You loved hearing the noises of restraint that Seunghyun let rattle in his chest, but you loved hearing him be vocal much more. Placing your free hand under his chin, you tilt his head upwards so he peers into your eyes, the contact lenses and his cheeky grin causing another flip in your stomach.

“We don’t have to hide our moans anymore,” you tell him. “Not in our home.”

“I think you only enjoy me losing control,” Seunghyun retorts, closing the space to kiss you quickly. His eyebrows quirk up as you tease the head of his erection between your clit and your entrance. “I’ll moan for you, my good girl,” he whispers. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You get lost in the way he speaks to you, his voice deep and sincere, but vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the question of how you got so lucky to be in Seunghyun’s life, in his home, in his bed. Now that you have him, you can’t imagine your life without him.

“Hey,” Seunghyun says, saying your name so gently as if he’s worried he’d break it. “Are you okay?” You tune back in, finding his worried gaze on you, waiting for an answer.

“I’m great.”

The worry fades from his face, replaced with a sly smirk that usually precedes something naughty. He maneuvers one of his hands between your thighs, slipping his fingers through your folds, getting them covered in your slick. You whimper softly, his gaze never breaking from yours while he teases your clit.

“I want you to come on my fingers first,” Seunghyun says, making certain that you watch his mouth as he speaks. “I want to feel you dripping down my hand.” You part your lips to respond, but he pushes his index and middle fingers into you slowly. “Mmm, princess,” he whispers, once his fingers are buried inside of you as deep as he can get them. “You’re clenching my fingers so tight.”

Seunghyun begins to pump his fingers into you, slowly at first, while he allows his other hand to start rubbing your clit. You can’t help your hips from moving against his motions, your eyes slipping closed and your head tipping back so you can moan into the air.

“Fuck, Seunghyun, baby,” you whimper, fisting the shoulders of his jacket as you roll your hips into his touch. “I love you.”

“You love me for fingering you?” Seunghyun chuckles, quickening his pace. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.” You nod your head, rolling it forward again so you can look into his eyes. The contacts make his eyes more devious than usual, watching you like he wants to write about what he sees.

His speed increases, the thrusting of his fingers in time with the circular motions on your clit, working you faster towards your orgasm. Your hand trembles as you move to loosen his tie and release the top buttons of his shirt so you can have unobstructed access to his neck. You have to pay him back for that bite he gave you earlier.

As soon as your mouth makes contact with his neck, you lose focus. You know that you’re biting and sucking on his skin, but you’re only aware of the orgasm that is creeping through your body. Your movement feels sloppy, and you can hear Seunghyun say something to you in a deep, raspy voice.

The sensations overload your mind, pushing you closer and closer until finally you reach your climax. You break from Seunghyun’s neck to moan his name between words of praise, your legs trembling to hold your weight.

“Good girl,” Seunghyun encourages, continuing to work you hard and fast to help you through your orgasm. “My good girl.”

When he finally slows to a stop, and pulls his fingers from you, he offers you his hand and you obediently take him by his wrist to slide his fingers into your mouth. You suck on his fingers, maintaining eye contact with him while you clean his digits of the taste of you. As Seunghyun watches your mouth, he uses his free hand to stroke himself. When his movement catches your attention, you start to pump his fingers into your mouth at the same pace that his hand works.

”Jesus,” Seunghyun rasps, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk, mesmerized by you.

When you pull his fingers from your mouth, Seunghyun responds with a disappointed expression, but you lean in to give him a kiss. The kiss was meant to be brief, just a little tease, but when he gets a taste of you on your lips, he presses his free hand to the back of your head to keep you where he wants you.

He kisses you deeply, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth at the way his tongue feels against yours. It feels childish to say but you love kissing him; you could spend the rest of your life kissing him if he’d let you. He kisses like it’s the last time he’ll have the chance to do it, like he’s desperate for your kiss. Sometimes it’s sloppy and messy and needy, but today it’s passionate, pulling small whimpers from you and hums of approval from him.

You’re reluctant to break the kiss, but you need to feel him again, you need more. You press your hands to his shoulders to push him away gently, his lazy, kiss-drunk expression not lost on you but you try your best to ignore it, knowing that he’ll be able to pull you in for more kisses and you wouldn’t object. You can feel his eyes on you as you move from his lap kneeling between his legs instead, finally taking a moment to really appreciate the sight of him.

In this costume, with his tie loose, his cheeks tinged with pink, his hand still stroking himself slowly with his eyes locked into your face, it’s better than anything you ever imagined before. You lean over his lap, pressing your hands against the mattress on either side of his thighs to brace yourself. He takes the hint and guides the head of his cock into your mouth before letting go and allowing you to do what you please.

You twirl your tongue around his tip inside of your mouth before taking him deeper. You bob your head over him slowly, only taking him about halfway into your mouth but hollowing out your cheeks to apply more suction. Seunghyun lets out a small groan, his hands gently grasping your forearms as if he didn’t know where else to put them.

“You always need to feel me in your mouth, don’t you?” Seunghyun mumbles, the smile apparent in his voice. You hum around him, causing him to pull in a breath through his teeth. “Fuck,” he mutters, fingers tightening around your arms.

You start to work faster, allowing him to go deeper and deeper into your mouth until he reaches the back of your throat. His hips lift off of the bed slightly, as if he’s hesitant to move but you hum an affirmation around him, hoping it will coax him to continue.

“You want me to fuck your mouth?” Seunghyun asks, his voice strained, as if he struggles to even speak the words he’s so overcome. You hum again, relaxing your jaw to afford him the space to work.

One of Seunghyun’s hands presses to the base of your head to keep you still while his other hand braces against the mattress. He pulls his knees closer around your body to support his movements as he begins to thrust into your mouth. It’s shallow at first, gentle but he doesn’t maintain the pace long. When he pushes deeper, hitting the back of your throat, he starts to thrust faster and harder, letting out whimpered breaths as he goes.

“Can you—?”

“Mhm,” you affirm, knowing exactly what he wants to do. He groans softly, burying himself as deep as he can in your mouth. You gag around him, swallowing to tease him, which pulls a deeper groan from his chest.

You bring one of your hands between his legs to massage him, knowing how much he loves it. The action catches him by surprise, making him let out a much more vulnerable moan than you have heard from him. He quickly pulls your head away from him and drops his hips back to the bed, both of you breathing hard.

“You’re a little tease,” Seunghyun chuckles, watching you try to regulate your breaths with a smile on your face.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” you reply, stroking your hand over him.

“Climb back up here, princess.”

“You’re overdressed,” you reply. “I want to feel all of you.”

He doesn’t like being completely naked. Across your time together, you can count on one hand the number of times he’s taken off all of his clothes in front of you. A brief flash of uncertainty appears on his face, so you employ the phrase that he frequently tells you.

“It’s just you and I, baby,” you whisper, watching him smile faintly. He cups your jaw, rubbing his thumb across your lips.

“Anything for you.”

Seunghyun stands beside the bed, pulling his tie off first then slipping his jacket from his arms next. You watch the apprehension fade from his face, being replaced with more confidence when he sees how transfixed you are. Once all of his clothes are on the floor, he strokes his hand over his length, sizing you up as he tries to figure out how he wants you.

Still on your knees, you scoot to one side of the bed to allow him to climb back in, laying on his back before he nods for you to climb on. You crawl towards him to straddle one of his thighs, leaning over his body to press gentle kisses to his chest and his neck.

“You already gave me one mark,” he mutters, his hand cradling the back of your head as he feels you sucking on his collarbone. “You want to leave more?”

“No one will see them but us,” you mutter against his skin. He chuckles softly in response, allowing you to continue on your task until you’re satisfied. “There,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to the mark you left.

“All done?” Seunghyun chuckles, attempting to look down at the hickey. You grin, staying on your knees as you press your chest against his, so you can kiss him. “I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, as you share a tender kiss.

“I love you, too.”

You get lost in the kiss, it’s soft and careful, like neither of you want to push. Until you feel his fingers begin to slowly tease his fingers along your slit; you let a delicate moan out against his lips, surprising yourself at just how soft you sound. You can’t take much more teasing at this point, all you can think about is feeling him inside of you.

As though he can sense your desire, Seunghyun takes hold of your hips to help you straddle him fully. You reach between your bodies, guiding him inside of you and settling down onto him, taking him all the way to the hilt.

“You’re so…fucking tight,” Seunghyun grinds out, closing his eyes and dropping his head against the pillow.

It makes you blush, hearing him speak like this; he does enjoy dirty talk but he seldom speaks quite so blunt. You press your hands to his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin for a moment until you press harder to his pecs for support. Seunghyun’s eyes flutter open, finding yours immediately, a smirk on his face.

You rock your hips against him, feeling him as deep as you can with each motion. Seunghyun’s hands grasp your waist, keeping your movements steady. You find yourself fixated on his eyes again, the contacts making his gaze much more mischievous and sexy than you expected. It drives you to increase your pace.

“You’re too much of a tease,” Seunghyun mutters, his hands grabbing the back of your thighs now to keep you still. He begins to thrust upwards, faster and deeper; you gasp in surprise, pressing harder against his chest to support your weight.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, your arms trembling to try to support your weight. Seunghyun notices and quickly wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you down to kiss you as he thrusts faster.

You rock your hips to meet his quick thrusts, moaning and whimpering into the kiss as you feel your climax approaching. Seunghyun moves to kiss your neck now, mumbling encouragement to you through gritted teeth.

“You’re going to come for me again? I love to feel you squeezing me like this. Fuck, you feel incredible.”

The way his voice sounds, desperate and rumbling in his chest, pushes you to your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, moaning against his chest and he keeps thrusting through your orgasm. When you collapse against him, his thrusts slow until they are just shallow pumps, barely pushing past his tip. He rubs your thighs soothingly, kissing the top of your head.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You always do so good for me.” You kiss his neck over and over, trailing up to his mouth so you can press your lips to his. He laughs softly into the kiss, squeezing your hips hard enough for you to feel how tender they are from his grip already.

You get an idea. Almost every time you’ve had sex with Seunghyun, it’s been missionary or cowgirl. Apart from Valentine’s Day, that is. You plant one more kiss on his lips before climbing off him and crawling towards the foot of the bed. You settle onto your hands and knees, looking back at him expectantly.

“Oh, that’s how you want me, princess?” Seunghyun asks, moving to rest on his knees behind you.

“I know you can get deeper like this,” you say, arching your back to press your backside closer to him.

Seunghyun takes hold of your hip, using his other hand to guide himself into you again. He bottoms out, both of his hands not gripping your hips to keep you from moving until he’s ready.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you come inside of me, baby,” you whine, swaying your hips to grind yourself against him.

“Mmm, you’re getting nasty for me now, princess?” he asks, pinching your side playfully. “You were keeping this hidden from me all this time.”

“You told me you wanted me to be a dirty girl for you if you wore that outfit,” you retort. “The contacts really got to me.” You hear Seunghyun hum appreciatively, before he gives you a sharp slap on your backside. You gasp in surprise, fisting the sheets beneath you.

“I can tell you like that,” he rasps, rubbing where he just spanked. “You’re squeezing so tight right now.”

Realizing that you’re able to move since he’s no longer grabbing your hips, you rock forward, pulling off of him until only his tip is inside of you. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to see him running a hand through his hair, eyes cutting from between your bodies to your face.

When he sees the look on your face, Seunghyun grabs your waist, pulling you back towards him so he’s buried inside of you again. He keeps you still as he begins to work into you, thrusting hard but slower than you expect. Each pump pushes him deeper than you imagined possible, and you rock against him to meet his thrusts.

You drop down to your elbows, your arms getting too weak to support your weight. Seunghyun’s hands grip your hips more firmly, pulling you back harder than you were able to move. You can hear him panting, still stifling his moans much to your disappointment. Reaching one hand behind you and taking hold of his forearm, you yank him so he bends over you with his chest pressed to your back.

“You know you don’t…fuck,” you stop short when Seunghyun’s hand finds its way between your thighs to rub your clit. He leaves small kisses and bites along your shoulder, chuckling softly, but you reach back again, threading your fingers through his hair so you can tug hard. Now he moans against your skin, his hips giving a sharp thrust. “That sounds so sexy, baby,” you mutter, grinding against his hand as he still teases your clit. “Please don’t hide it.”

“Sexy?” Seunghyun breathes, readjusting his grip on you. “Mmm, you know how much I love hearing you say that.”

Seunghyun places one more kiss on your shoulder before sitting upright again, resuming his thrusts. He wastes no time building his pace again, only giving a few slow pumps before he reaches the same speed as before. Each thrust hits you harder than the last, the sound of your skin slapping echoing through the air, and you can’t help but moan at how good it feels.

When you hear Seunghyun release a moan of his own, his hips briefly losing time, your hands fist the sheets again, taken by how good he sounds. You clench around him just to get another moan from him, this one sounding even better than the last. You become aware of how flushed your skin is, cold and hot at the same time, your desire beginning to overwhelm you.

You maneuver one of your hands between your thighs, rubbing quickly at your clit when you feel your climax approaching. You’re certain Seunghyun won’t be far behind, judging from the frantic pace he has set and his firm grip on your hips. Your moans are unrestricted now, all of your care to keep quiet nonexistent as you moan his name, begging for him not to stop. Seunghyun’s moans, though not quite as loud as yours, vibrate through you, deep and rumbling; you could get off just listening to him moan.

When your climax hits, you feel like it knocks the wind out of you, all of your moans escaping you and leaving you gasping. Seunghyun doesn’t stop, continuing to work into you as he chases his own climax. You try to regain your breath, the waves of your orgasm coursing through you and seeming never ending, but finally you let out a moan of Seunghyun’s name, which seems to drive him to go harder.

“Please come inside of me,” you beg. “Let me feel you come inside of me, baby. You always take such good care of me. Let me feel you.”

“Fuck,” Seunghyun grinds out, his hips starting to stutter as he finally reaches his own climax.

The sensation of him finishing inside of you always feels incredible, you think it’s the best feeling you’ve ever known. The way he groans your name, his voice so deep but still soft, that beautiful desperation you love to hear from him ringing in your ears, it’s a sound you could hear for the rest of your life and never grow tired.

Seunghyun drops onto you, though he tries to brace some of his weight by pressing her hands to the mattress on either side of your body. You reach over your shoulder again, pulling him gently by his hair so you can turn to kiss him softly.

“Let me see you,” you mutter against his lips.

Seunghyun carefully pulls out of you, maneuvering to lay on his side next to you before he helps you roll into his arms, facing him. He cups your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips while his eyes study your face. You feel overcome with love for him, unlike you have before, all because of him wearing this stupid outfit for you.

“Are you okay?” Seunghyun asks, his voice raspy.

“More than okay. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Seunghyun.”

“Hmm, I was just thinking the same thing.” You scoot closer, cuddling against his chest and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. You stare into one another’s eyes for a moment, and you see beyond his contacts, trying to read what he thinks. “Thank you for making me feel the way you see me,” he says after a moment.

“Thank you for letting me.” Seunghyun smiles in return, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “You know,” you begin, trying to hide your smile. “I was thinking of when you asked me to move in with you…and you said we can do this every night. Multiple orgasms every night for the rest of our lives might be too much; I may need a few days of rest in between.” He takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours, studying the way they fit together.

“The rest of our lives,” he says, echoing your words as he rolls onto his back and pulls you gently on top of him. “It still doesn’t sound like enough time with you. I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for, princess.” He kisses your knuckles one at a time, then looks into your eyes. “I don’t think it matters what we do,” he adds. “We can do this every day, we can rest, we can go for walks, we can travel the world. As long as it’s just you and I, that’s more than enough for me.”

#choi seunghyun x reader #x reader #t.o.p x reader #x reader smut

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