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fireinmoonshot · 2 days ago

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soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there.

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was.

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?”

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again.

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy.

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are.

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you.

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly.

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared.

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner?

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first.

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt.

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.”

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom.

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin.

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.”

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in.

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh.

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands.

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?”

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring.

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past.

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably.

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?”

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins.

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you.

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone.

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you.

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands.

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him.

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you.

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug.

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks.

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return.

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.”

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #falcon #falcon x reader

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promiscuousg1rl · 2 days ago

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LOVE ME NOT — ONE

Rafe Cameron x Childhood!Bestfriend!Reader Social Media AU

Summary: Since sandbox days, it has always been you and Rafe. The only person who can put up with his selfish bastard ways, you became one of the boys. However as the two of you grew older, you started to realize you don’t see him as another one of the guys. Harboring a crush on someone is universally awful, but having a crush on your best friend is worse. Especially when he doesn’t reciprocate. Deciding to save your friendship, you settled on time apart, spending your summer in the Bahamas. When you return, you are a whole different person—jewelry, makeup, and chic clothes—you became an ugly duckling story turned right. But time apart have given you insight, and you aren’t sure if you still love Rafe. While he realizes he's loved you this whole time.

Content: social media au, unrequited love trope, inspired/based on Love Me Not by Ravyn Lenae

Rafe's sure he broke every speed limit and ran every light to get the Boneyard after that picture was sent to him.

And it wasn't just JJ's arm being around your shoulder that made him immediately jump up and grab his keys; it was that pathetic excuse of bikini top you had on.

The last time he saw you, you'd been decked out in a t-shirt that was two sizes too big and a pair of knee length jean shorts. But as he stares at you from his spot next to Topper and Kelce, he wonders what exactly happened to you in the span of three months.

Now Rafe really isn't into fashion and girly shit like that (and he thought you weren't either), but he's ninety-nine percent sure the mini skirt you have on is designer. It's pink, a color he's never seen you wear in the ten years he's known you; not even when your mom tried to force you wear that pink fluffy dress for your birthday that one time.

It all just...wasn't you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfect curls your hair was styled in.

"Dude we almost didn't recognize her at first glance," Kelce nudges Rafe's arm. "I've never seen her look like an actual girl before, it's freaking me out."

Topper snorts around the rim of his solo cup. "I forgot she even had boobs."

Kelce nods his head while they watch as she giggles at something JJ says to her.

Since when are they so fucking chummy with each other? Rafe asks himself. The way you were leaning into his side and letting your head rest on his shoulder as whatever bullshit he was spewing to you made you cackle.

"You're not gonna say anything?" Topper quirks a brow at Rafe's seemingly catatonic state.

"I—, she didn't even tell me she was back."

Kelce and Topper exchange a look before looking back to their best friend. "What, did you manage to piss her off all the way from North Carolina while she was in the Bahamas?"

Rafe's brows furrow. "Of course not. And even if I did, she still would've let me know that she and her folks were flying back in."

You would...wouldn't you?

He thinks about Topper's borderline accusation. Things between you two were fine when you left for your vacation with your parents. Hell, you came to see him right before you headed for the airport.

You joked like you always do, telling him not to miss you too much and he bantered back saying that he was counting down the minutes until your flight left. Your usual back and forth.

So what the hell had changed between then and now?

"Aye, y/n!"

Rafe is glad that it's Kelce that does it before for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to. But whatever, things were about to go back to normal. Now that you'd know that the three of them were here, you'd ditch your new "friends" and come back to your real ones.

He's not sure what sparked your friendly behavior but it was all about to be straightened out.

Hearing your name being called from across the beach, you turn to look in their direction. And instead of pushing JJ's arm from around your shoulder and coming over to them like Rafe thought you would, you settle for one of your bright smiles and an eager wave. And that's it.

You turn right back around and continue talking to Kie and the rest of them like nothing even happened.

Rafe glances over at Kelce and Topper, finding them to be just as confused as he is.

He's positive you'll make time for him as the party goes on. You're not just going to go without speaking to him after three whole months of nothing being around each other. That'd be nuts and frankly, really unlike you.

After you finish dancing with Kie is when he thinks you'll finally give him the time of day. However right after that is when you do a couple of shots with John B and Pope. So he waits, and waits, and waits...and you still don't acknowledge him.

No, it seems JJ Maybank of all people has your attention. Record him doing stupid shit on your phone and in his opinion, standing a bit too close.

Rafe can't help but think that you and everyone else at this party are lucky he's not drinking. Because his temper and alcohol did not mix and as he sees your hand on JJ's bicep for what feels is the hundredth time tonight, his eye starts to twitch.

Kelce and Topper are long gone; Kelce finding some touron to hook up with while Topper had to go be at Sarah's beck and call for the rest of evening. Now it was just him.

When you and Kie start seeming to be heading out, he now knows that he has to be the one to make the move if you won't.

"Hey," he intercepts you as soon as you're near, earning an eye-roll from Kiera.

"Hey!" You smile up at him. "You're still here?"

"Uh," he looks from you to an obviously annoyed Kiera. "Yeah, I was actually waiting around for you,"

He can hear the hopefulness in his voice and wonders if you can too.

"Oh," your smile falls a little, bottom lip poking out slightly.

Are you wearing lipgloss?

"We were actually about to leave," You wince.

"Stay then," He hears an obvious scoff coming from your left but doesn't bother acknowledging her.

"Honestly, I'm pretty worn out." You look around the party with a shrug. "Nothing really keeping me here anyways, so we're gonna go chill at John B's."

"John B?" Rafe scoffs. “On a first name basis with those Pogues?”

You frown. "They're not all that bad."

"Is that what they tell you?"

Kiera's scoff is louder this time. "No one needed to tell her anything Rafe, y/n can think for herself."

"Stay out of this Kie."

"Fuck off, Rafe."

The glare they exchange is so intense you find yourself subtly easing in between them.

"Rafe, maybe another time...okay?"

When he looks back at you, his eyes immediately soften. But just as quick the gentleness he aims at you is replaced with a look only you can recognize as hurt.

And you almost want to tell him you change your mind, that you'd love to stay and update him on the changes your sure he's noticed.

However it's almost as if Kie can see your resolve weaken and she squeezes your hand. Willing you to remember the conversations you had.

So instead of being the same weak-willed person you usually were when it comes to Rafe Cameron, you don't bother waiting for him to even respond.

"I'll see you around."

With that, Kie doesn't hesitate to pull you away from him, all while you let her.

pls let me know if you'd like to be tagged 🩵!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron au #rafe outer banks #outer banks rafe au #obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n

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angelfic · 1 day ago

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never let me go.

PART TWO ➺ series masterlist

[jason todd x reader]

summary — you’ve returned to gotham after a few years away, having left as soon as you could to escape the constant reminders of your deceased best friend, jason todd. you expected to be haunted by the ghost of him the minute you stepped foot in the city, but certainly not like this — the city you call home has much more in store than you could have imagined. warnings — childhood best friends to lovers, mentions of death + mourning, angst, mentions of blood + violence a/n; this is going to be very slow burn (if i can help it) btw. thank you for all the love so far + lmk your thoughts <3

The drive up to Wayne Manor always feels like entering another world. The chaos of Gotham fades behind you, replaced by the quiet, eerie stillness of Bristol that might be relaxing for most people. You always find yourself unsettled when you make the drive alone, your ears ringing with the silence and lack of Gotham’s noise pollution that you need to be calm.

You’re starting to think there may be something wrong with you, especially considering how you used to yearn for nothing more than to leave the place. But, like you do with most things, you push this to the back of your mind to psychoanalyse another day. Far, far away in the future hopefully.

The road winds through thick forest, the canopy of gnarled trees overhead casting ominous shadows in front of you. Now it feels more like home, you think to yourself.

Your mom’s car is sturdy enough, but getting old and the wear and tear from over the years has you slowing down as the cracked pavement gets bumpier. It’s an old road, rarely used outside of visits to Wayne Manor, and Bruce has other, faster ways of making his own trips. You’re suddenly glad for the caution you have while driving that you definitely didn’t possess when you were younger as a fox runs out onto the street and you brake suddenly. You jolt forward slightly, one hand gripping the wheel and the other reaching next to you to prevent your bag from falling off the seat, contents threatening to spill out.

The fox glances over at you for a split second before scampering off and you nearly laugh to yourself, the deja vu hitting you like a truck.

“Come on, just keep going. Faster, come on—”

“Jason, shut up!” you shout, palms getting sweaty on the steering wheel where his own cover yours in an attempt to help you steer. “If you don’t can it, I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You gonna turn this thing around, sweetheart?” he asks, raising a brow. “Oh, wait, you can’t— because you don’t know how to reverse.”

If you weren’t so focused on the road ahead, you’d probably hit him for being so cocky. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. When your mom had come home from the night shift and tossed her keys on the counter before going to bed and immediately knocking out, Jason had shot you that look. It screamed trouble.

Fast forward to now, where you’re sorely regretting your short-lived burst of spontaneity and trying to control your feet which are hovering awkwardly between the gas and the brake.

Jason is slouched in the passenger seat like he’s got all the confidence in the world, grinning at you and totally unbothered by the fact that neither of you are supposed to be here.

Legally, neither of you can drive. But being Robin, he now possesses quite a few skills that most people your age don’t have. Bruce had long since taught him how to drive a car for emergencies and he was now great at it. He’d driven you guys out of Gotham and towards Wayne Manor, insisting it was time to teach you and that it’d be easier where there are hardly ever any cars.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you mutter, fingers gripping the wheel tighter when he lets go and allows you free rein.

Jason simply laughs at your misery, tipping his head back against the seat. “Okay, first of all — you’re being dramatic. Second, wouldn’t you rather it be me teaching you, instead of some old guy who overcharges?”

“I’m seriously debating the old guy right now,” you grumble, ignoring his offended scoff. “What the fuck, Jay! This road is not straight.”

“It’s straight,” he insists, sitting up again to actually resume teaching you. “You’re nowhere near the edge, relax.”

You listen to him, loosening up a little and realising he’s right. You haven’t drifted in a while, and you are going in a pretty straight line. You won’t admit it, but it is kind of thrilling. The hum of the engine, the way the tires respond beneath you and the peaceful sense of freedom you have surrounded by nothing but trees and Jason. You test out the gas by pushing a little harder and speeding up, partly wanting to feel more control and partly so Jason doesn’t hound you about it.

“See, what’d I say?” Jason says, leaning back again and lightly nudging you. “You’re doing great…”

A flash of fur darts in front of the car and your breath hitches.

Your hands jerk the wheel, tires screeching against the pavement from the speed you were going at and you swerve hard to the right.

Jason slams one hand against the dashboard, his other arm reaching across your front to stop you going through the windshield, despite the fact you have your seatbelt on. “Fuck—”

The car skids to a stop, inches away from a tree. The animal — a raccoon, you realise with wide eyes — scurries off into the bushes, blissfully unaware.

You sit there, trying to remember how to breathe. From the corner of your eye, you see Jason’s shoulders shaking and you realise with horror that he’s laughing.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, wiping at his eyes. “I really thought we were dead for a second.”

“We almost were!”

“Hey, you didn’t hit it. That’s a win!” He turns to you and grasps your by the arms, shaking you slightly and releasing the tension in your shoulders from where you’re all coiled up. “And do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

Jason smiles at you, but his eyes are concentrated on yours, his gaze unwavering. He’s trying to talk you off a ledge, but you don’t need it, not really. You know he’d never put you in actual danger.

Still, you groan, dropping your head against his shoulder and hiding your smile. The adrenaline still hasn’t left. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” Jason replies, easily. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting against your back and rubbing soothing circles. His voice is teasing, but warm. “You don’t.”

No, you think to yourself. You don’t.

Your mom has kept the same car since then, and you’ve never really wished for her to change it until you remember things like that.

You’re startled to realise that the wrought-iron gates of Wayne Manor loom ahead. They rise high, wrapped in ivy, intricate and imposing. Their black metalwork centres around the ‘W’ emblem which gleams in the daylight.

You get out your phone to text your arrival, but the security system whirs to life before you can, a camera adjusting overhead. Alright then.

The gate unlocks, swinging open slowly and deliberately and as you drive forward, the massive house rises up to greet you.

Your chest feels tight.

The manor towers over you, cutting sharp edges against the bright, clear sky. The windows glow faintly, but it’s a cold kind of warmth. Too big and grand for too few people.

When you park in the circular driveway, Alfred is unsurprisingly already waiting at the door for you and you try and control every muscle in your face to not physically wince with guilt.

“Miss,” he greets you, stepping aside to let you in. His voice carries the same steady patience as always, but there’s a flicker of something accusatory in his expression as he raises a brow at your appearance. You deserve worse, considering you’ve been avoiding these visits for months.

“Hey, Alfred,” you say, offering him a sheepish smile as you step past him. He takes your coat before you can insist you don’t need him to. You should be used to these things considering the majority of your friends happen to be the adopted children of a billionaire, the billionaire’s butler and, arguably, the billionaire himself. If you’re getting technical. Unfortunately, your less than privileged upbringing seems to be so completely engrained in you, and you still bristle at the rich people antics. You step back awkwardly. “Long time, huh?”

“Quite.” He gestures for you to follow him into the house and you obey, falling into step beside him. Despite the mildly reproachful tone, he seems pleased to see you. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten the way.”

Wincing, the excuse falls from your lips before you can even process the words. “I’ve just been so busy with work—” As soon as you say it, you’re grimacing, because this is Alfred you’re talking to.

If he had a nickel for every time he heard the same words from the inhabitants of Wayne Manor, he’d be able to buy his own Wayne Manor. Twice over. So, you at least have the grace to cut yourself off.

You sigh, turning to face him properly. “I’m sorry,” you say, injecting as much sincerity as you possibly can, because you are. And work has actually been busy, but you know that you could have carved out time to see Alfred. You just had a small problem with the meeting location.

You spent a good amount of time here when Jason was alive, but that wasn’t really the issue. If anything, you choose to surround yourself in spaces that feel like him — why else would you still be living in Crime Alley? Certainly not for the ambience.

After Jason’s death, you found yourself practically living here, unable to tear yourself away from his bedroom and retracing the steps the two of you would take together every time you ran around the Manor. And no one else really wanted to take you away either, taking pity on the teenage girl who couldn’t mention his name without crying for a whole year.

So, as much as you wish you could focus on the happier memories of this place, the memories of the time spent mourning your best friend seem to take priority in your brain.

Despite this, you suppose it’s time to grow up a little. It’s not like you’re having to physically fight the demons every time you step foot in the Manor, so what’s another migraine from having to fight them in your head over a couple dinners every month. You attempt a sincere smile towards Alfred. “I promise I’ll be better about visiting. I, uh… I should have come sooner, but… y’know,” you try and explain without words, vaguely gesturing to the high ceilings and polished floors.

Something in his expression softens. “Indeed.”

A beat of silence. Then, his lips twitch — just slightly and you relax.

“Well,” he says, stepping aside as you reach Bruce’s study. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

He nods once, before turning to walk in the direction of the kitchen, undoubtedly to make the dinner that he’s going to force you to stay and eat.

You adjust your heavy bag at your side and knock twice on the door, pushing it open when you hear Bruce calling for you to come in.

He sits at his desk, papers strewn everywhere and multiple mugs of unfinished coffee that have gone cold. He looks up when you walk in, offering you the closest thing he has to a smile — a subtle nod and a slight shift in posture that means he’s glad to see you.

“You made it,” he says, as if he was the one who invited you and not the other way around. You hadn’t had the position of Philanthropy and Outreach Co-ordinator for long, and who better than Bruce Wayne to go to when you want to ensure you’re actually doing your job at Wayne Enterprises properly. Not that it was a particularly easy task. He’s genuinely the busiest man you know and you’re lucky you were able to have a conversation with him about this that lasted longer than a few seconds.

“Shocking, I know,” you tease, dropping a folder on his desk. “Try not to look too excited.”

He huffs a quiet breath, flipping open the folder. Inside are the details for the upcoming Wayne Foundation gala — your latest, carefully curated headache. Bruce may hate the public-facing side of things, but he understands the necessity, which is exactly why he agreed to look over things for your first official project.

“This is a lot,” he says, skimming the notes. The lack of a frown on his face tells you that he’s complimenting you and you can’t help glowing inside. You feel like you’re fifteen again. “I’m sure you don’t even need me for this.”

“I just want to make sure it runs smoothly,” you say, letting out a nervous chuckle and crossing your arms, watching him. “Also, if I don’t get your input, I’ll have to deal with the board complaining about how the Wayne Foundation is ‘out of touch’ or whatever. And quite frankly, I don’t get paid enough to handle that and put up with your brooding.”

That earns you a half-smirk. Small victories.

“You’re still coming, right?”

Bruce doesn’t look up, but his hesitation is enough of an answer.

“Bruce.”

He sighs. “I’ll be there.”

You lean against the desk and attempt to stare him down. It’s a lot easier when you’re not having to physically look up at him — it was a hundred times worse when you and Jason were kids and you were practically looking up to the ceiling.

“You sure? I know how much you love playing host, but I really want this to go well.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Fantastic,” you deadpan. “That’s really the kind of enthusiasm we need to make this a huge success.”

Bruce pointedly ignores you. He flips to another page in your folder, skimming over the guest list. You watch his expression carefully, but he stays silent. He’s a man of few words, but when you’re in front of him, you seem to revert back to the girl you used to be and it’s hard to leave the silence alone.

“Well?” you ask, rocking back and forth on your feet — another old habit. You carefully selected the guest list with a whole myriad of purposes behind each individual, so you’re sorely hoping he doesn’t have a problem. “Guest list up to par?”

“It’s good,” he simply states, nodding and moving onto the next page. It’s just about decor and themes and you don’t think he has any interest in it, but he politely glances over it nonetheless. “No notes.”

You raise your brows, surprised with yourself. “What, no shady businessmen or criminals or undercover villains? You’re kidding.”

“Oh, no, there are plenty of them,” he clarifies, matter-of-fact. You deflate and he shakes his head, waving you off. “But, they’re nothing to be concerned about. They’re all major names and donors and they won’t be causing any trouble at an event like this.”

You know that he’s already run the calculations in his head, weighed the risks and is thinking five steps ahead like he always does. It isn’t the donors you care as much about. Sure, the money is a huge part of the fundraiser (It’s literally in the name. You do need the funds). However, it’s not as if Wayne Enterprises is running low on the stuff.

Your main agenda here is networking (the word makes you internally cringe a little, because God, you’re such an adult now), and while you’re not going to say no to the guests donating money, you’re in dire need of signatures. Unfortunately, Bruce doesn’t own every inch of land in Gotham, a fact that you’ve jokingly berated him for in the past. Planning permission for the children’s shelters and renovations and such that you have in mind will need the support of your seriously corrupt government officials.

Enter the bells and whistles needed to suck up to them — fortunately you aren’t too proud to use them. You’re not one of the Bats.

Still, inviting a bunch of them, littered with a whole group of hopefully normal, nice people, to your first event makes you something akin to nervous.

“Right…” you trail off, still unsure if you should be concerned or just accept it. “Good to know what the current state of Gotham’s most esteemed politicians and businessmen is. Really gives me faith in our city.”

Bruce’s lips quirk up and he closes the folder, looking up at you. Story of his life, you guess. The next words coming out of his mouth make you pause. “It looks good. You’re doing well.”

It’s not exactly Shakespeare, but it has the same effect as if he had just hugged you and recited poetry in your name. Praise from Bruce was something that never got old. You swallow, suddenly feeling an embarrassing wave of emotion come over you, but you quickly quell it down before Bruce gets awkward and doesn’t know where to look. “Thank you, Bruce. Really.”

He nods, satisfied. Although it does seem as though he wants to say something else, but appears to be struggling to find the words. Thankfully, for both of you, Alfred chooses that moment to interrupt.

“I do hope the two of you are planning to eat something this evening,” he says, standing at the door with his hands clasped behind his back. His stare makes you squirm.

You fidget, looking at Bruce who is conveniently looking through the same page in your folder he was looking at five minutes ago. “I mean, I—”

“Excellent. I’ve prepared a dinner that I’m sure will provide more sustenance than whatever processed meal you were planning to pick up on your way home.” His gaze shifts to Bruce. “It certainly trumps eating nothing at all.”

Bruce exhales. “Alfred—”

“Master Wayne,” he cuts in smoothly, already taking a step back to walk away. “I trust you will be joining us, rather than working… at the risk of being a rude host.”

You bite back a grin when Bruce frowns at you. You’ve never really been a guest at this house, so the idea of Bruce hosting you is a laughable concept that you’re sure he wants to argue with Alfred about. The attempt to stare his butler down is a good effort, you think. But futile, as it’s never been done successfully.

“…Fine,” Bruce mutters eventually.

Alfred has already set the table by the time you and Bruce step into the dining room which tells you he really wasn’t planning on leaving without the two of you. Everything is perfectly arranged, warm lighting softening the cavernous space, the faint scent of something freshly baked lingering in the air. It’s not a grand affair, but it’s practically a party in comparison to your usual takeout on the couch.

Damian is already sat there, feeding a piece of something under the table to his dog, Titus. He glances up at you, mild surprise flickering across his face before it settles back to expressionless. “I see. That explains all this.”

“Hello to you too, Damian,” you say cheerfully, pulling out a chair as Bruce does the same at the head of the table. His confusion doesn’t surprise you. It really has been a while since you visited, and it’s not as though either you or Damian hang out together on the regular. He’s thirteen years old. You aren’t that lonely.

You like to think he has a level of respect for you from a comfortable distance the same way you do. In a ‘Hey, I too, was once a misunderstood child running around this house with your deceased adoptive older brother that you never knew’ kind of way.

Damian huffs, picking up his fork. “I was in the middle of training, Father.”

“And now you’re in the middle of dinner,” Bruce says, raising a brow. “Eat.”

Damian grumbles, stabbing a piece of his food with a little too much force. “So, what is the purpose of this gala?”

You blink, not expecting him to take an interest. “It’s a Wayne Foundation event for youth outreach. I’m trying to encourage more scholarships, community engagement and all that. Get some signatures to build some more shelters in the near future.”

“And will I be expected to attend?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” you say, at the same time as Bruce who says, “Yes.”

Damian lets out a long suffering sigh. “Is Drake being forced to go as well?”

“I need him to come,” you explain, frowning. “He has connections.”

Probably the only twenty one year old in the world with the connections that you’re talking about. Damian seemingly accepts this, going back to his food without another word.

From across the table, Bruce leans back slightly and watches you. You feel like you’re under a microscope.

“You’re still living in Park Row?”

You tense. “You know I am.”

He doesn’t look away, his posture seemingly stiffer than before, if that were even possible. “You should move.”

Here we go.

You truly thought that this conversation was done with months ago. That Bruce had finally accepted you weren’t going to just pack up and leave your home just because he insisted. The Batman card wasn’t going to work with this.

You take a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “God, not this again.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s Gotham. Name one place there hasn’t been any trouble.”

Damian, who has been silently watching the exchange in a not-so-subtle way, chimes in. “It is a valid concern.”

You glance at him, raising a suspicious brow. “Since when do you care where I live?”

“I don’t,” he says bluntly. You don’t miss the way he exchanges a look with Bruce or how he sat up a little straighter when he mentioned Park Row. Like annoying father, like annoying son. “But you’re not exactly… equipped to handle an ambush alone.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you say, before turning back to Bruce. “I’m not moving.”

Bruce exhales, setting down his fork. No, you almost want to whine like a moody teenager getting a lecture again. Pick it up and go back to dinner and stop talking about this!

Being reprimanded by Bruce at twenty three years of age isn’t nearly as funny as it was back in the day. For one thing, Jason wasn’t here being on the receiving end of it. You were usually just there to tag along by his side hearing most of the scolding being directed towards him, with the occasional ‘I expect more from both of you.’ You sometimes felt like he just didn’t want to leave you out. Another thing being that you actually have a parent in your life who you hear enough of it from.

Bruce furrows his brows. “Your mother—”

“—is living in her nice little house in Burnley, thanks to you.” You point your fork at him. “She’s good. She’s happy. She also calls me twice a week to say I should move, so I really don’t need you doubling down.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “She’s right.”

You sigh, dropping your own fork. It probably doesn’t have nearly the same stern effect as Bruce doing it, but damn it, a girl can try. “I like where I live.”

Alfred, ever the peacekeeper, smoothly refills your glass of water. But there’s a hint of something reprimanding in his own tone as he speak to Bruce. “I believe the young Miss is quite capable of making her own decisions.”

“Hear, hear,” you say, nodding at him. You know these vigilante types are stubborn, though and you’ve been doing some light research, reading some local newsletters about that Red Hood guy you heard about the other day. You’ve barely formed an opinion about him yourself, so you don’t know why you bring him up in an attempt to sway Bruce’s opinion on Crime Alley being a safe enough place to live, but the words are spilling out before you can think twice. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, anyway. I hear there’s some new guy hanging around and keeping people out of trouble, so…”

The mood shifts almost immediately. Bruce doesn’t look at you directly, but his hand flexes slightly before resting back against the table. Damian’s fork pauses again — not even for a full second, but enough that you catch it. Even Alfred stills, before going back to fussing around with the place settings.

“…What?” You glance between them. “What did I say?”

Damian looks as though he wants to say something, but a look from Bruce’s stormy grey eyes, which have turned hard and stern, has him turning back to petting Titus under the table. You don’t miss the way his jaw has tightened.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says, allowing his shoulders to relax when no one says anything. You’re used to the weird silences around you when it comes to vigilante business. It had been going on since Jason was around, (although he would fill you in on most things privately, anyway) and it didn’t really bother you. The less you knew about things, the better. It doesn’t make this conversation any less tense though. “Just… keep safe.”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, giving him a two-fingered salute and returning to your dinner as he does the same.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, as if on cue, Alfred clears his throat. “More vegetables?”

You drop your mom’s car off at hers, stepping in for an hour to catch up and letting her interrogate you about your eating and sleeping habits while you nod and lie, the occasional truth thrown in.

She insisted you take the car home, but after ten minutes of arguing, she’s convinced that you’ll make it to your apartment alive if you take a cab instead. You choose to omit the fact that you’re stopping at work to drop off your files for your boss to look over in the morning now that you’re happy with Bruce’s input and that you’ll walk the rest of the way home.

(You’ve got to get your steps in. Plus the weather is looking pretty good. Mental health walks are very important in the current state of the world and you like to think they cancel out the unhealthy eating and lack of sleep.)

You try your best not to walk home from work when it’s dark, because as much as your protests against Bruce and your mom may suggest otherwise, you don’t actually want to be murdered in Crime Alley.

The streets stretch out ahead of you, no longer slick with the remnants of the earlier light rain and you breathe in as much fresh air as you can before you start to enter the shadier part of town.

The buildings start to lose their shine the closer you get to home, turning older and angrier in the dark. The grime covered windows, rusted balconies and bricks, weathered by rain and neglect look like they could collapse in on you any second now. They won’t, though. They’ve been around longer than you’ve been alive.

The first sign of trouble comes as a sound.

A sharp, violent crack — the unmistakeable impact of a fist against bone.

You freeze.

Damn it, you think to yourself. Damn it all to hell, because you don’t want to live in a world where Bruce and Damian are right and you’re wrong.

You deduce that the sounds are coming from the alley across the street, which is unfortunate considering that’s the way to your apartment complex.

It’s the space between two crumbling brick buildings, half-lit by the flickering glow of a neon pink ‘OPEN’ sign hanging above a little beauty parlour that isn’t actually open, but the sign is always on. You shouldn’t look. You should just keep walking.

There’s just one little thing. If you take another route, it adds at least ten minutes to your journey and your feet are already dragging from exhaustion. So if you’re going to avoid going through your usual alley route, it’s got to be for a good reason.

You aren’t stupid. But you’re also a curious person by nature. And maybe you’re a tiny bit desensitised to these things with the crowd you tend to run with.

At least that’s what you tell yourself when you start to venture towards the noise, a single streetlamp dimly glowing overhead to light your path, revealing old cigarette butts ground into the concrete and a pile of shattered glass. There’s also something dark smeared across the concrete that, in spite of yourself, you lean in a bit closer to inspect.

The smell of stale beer, damp cardboard and the rot of garbage from the general vicinity suddenly wafts into your nose and causes a wave of nausea that has you standing straight again. That’s definitely enough of that.

At the same time, you catch sight of a figure shifting in the alley ahead of you.

It’s the Red Hood, you note with a hint of surprise.

You recognise him from your previous Google inspection, the blurry pictures not doing much justice to his imposing figure, but it’s definitely him.

He’s taller than you expected. Broad-shouldered and solid. His black leather jacket shifts as he exhales, head tilting just slightly like he’s considering something as he looks down.

There are four guys. Or at least, four bodies. Two of them are on the ground, unmoving and the other two don’t look much better. One is spitting blood onto the pavement, another is trying (and failing miserably) to push himself upright. He groans something unintelligible. If Red Hood responds, you don’t hear it.

Instead, he shifts his weight, combat boots scuffing against the cracked concrete. He doesn’t look tired or out of breath and when he’s stationary, it’s a deadly stillness.

When he does move, the neon glow catches on his helmet, the deep red gleaming like fresh blood. You have to give it to him — it takes a really frightening figure to not look silly under bright pink lighting. You suppose the rusted fire escape to the side of building helps the image, considering the lowest rung is bent at an odd angle. There’s a man lying unconscious beside it. You can put two and two together.

Red Hood straightens, rolling his shoulders and breathing steadily. He looks at you.

Your pulse jumps. You should move, should pretend you didn’t just stop in the middle of a dark and creepy alleyway to gawk at a violent fight scene. Well, the end of one anyway.

But you can’t find the will to move your legs. From fright or something else, you aren’t sure. But there’s something about the way he stands; relaxed, but coiled beneath the surface, like a predator that hasn’t decided if it’s ready to pounce or not. His fingers flex at his sides before curling back into loose fists, and then he moves.

Not towards you, or anything in particular. Just a slight shift of weight, as if registering your presence and deciding not to acknowledge it further.

You take that as your cue to leave and take the long way home, tearing your gaze away from the white gleam of his eyepiece and slowly backing up. You’re still not running, just walking at a leisurely pace and trying to control your breathing until you get back onto the main sidewalk. It isn’t until you’re walking past other people that you feel like you can relax your shoulders and actually start thinking about what you just saw.

In hindsight, your survival instincts probably need some work, but hey — he’s meant to be a vigilante. Sure, you shouldn’t believe everything you read online, but if you can’t trust Google, then what hope do you really have.

Maybe it can’t hurt to look at some of those apartment listings that Tim is always sending you.

tag list: @sakur4ii @theendofthematerialgworl @daughterofthemoons-stuff @staraniseed @harbours-lighthouse @eli-com @flanhog @catsaresillyasheck @wafflez-009 @straight-n-arrow @ydkmsstuff @alikkatz @doperthanabitch @wadehowl3tt

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minswriting · 11 hours ago

Text

MEDICINE - SPENCER REID X READER

About: The team goes out for drinks after a successful case and Spencer already knows that he’s going to end up taking you home.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, public handjob, public fingering (f), finger sucking, post!prison spencer, smallest mention of hand kink, brief bisexual spencer mention, reader gets fingered in the back of a taxi, spencer gets a handjob in the bar, oral (f), drunk sex, briefest mention of throwing up (doesn’t even happen, just a passing comment), rough sex, guys this is really just dirty porn. if i missed any warnings, just lmk!

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey guys! This fic is based off of Medicine by Harry Styles. The lyrics are out of order because they’re meant to go with the story lol. Please comment and reblog with your thoughts!

I'm here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Treat you like a gentleman

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

I think I'm gonna stick with it

It was a warm spring night as the team had just returned from a very successful case in Kansas City, Missouri. A case that had involved children being kidnapped had ended with all of the kids being alive and well, returned to their parents unharmed. Seeing the happy faces on the families’ faces was heartwarming and gave the team a sense of fulfillment with their positions, a consensus that not everything is always so traumatic.

When they had landed back in Quantico, the drive back to the Bureau was filled with chatter and laughter as everyone relished in their triumph. You and Spencer were sitting next to one another, thighs grazing as you both paid attention to what Luke and Tara were talking about.

“We should celebrate with a couple of drinks,” Tara exclaimed loudly enough for the rest of the team to hear.

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun,” JJ practically groaned in excitement, leaning her head back. “I haven’t had a night out in ages and the boys are at my mother’s for the weekend while Will is down in New Orleans.”

“We most certainly have to invite Penelope as soon as we arrive at the Bureau,” Emily said from the passenger seat, grinning through the rearview mirror. “What about you two in the back?” Emily asked, looking at you and Spencer.

Spencer gave you a subtle glance with a quirked eyebrow. An unspoken question as to whether you were going to go out or not. If you did, Spencer already knew that he would because you were very persuasive.

You were unsure of how this whole thing started. One day, after Spencer had gotten back from prison, the two of you were alone in the bullpen, and then the next moment you were in the elevator as Spencer fingered you so fast that you had cum in what felt like a record amount of time. That night ended with you in Spencer’s bed as he pounded you into oblivion.

Perhaps it had been a long time in the making. The glances you two shared, the way Spencer always looked at you as though you were an art piece that was to be admired, the way Spencer’s intelligence never failed to make you clench your thighs. Flirtatious comments passed as just comments about the cases.

“I’m down,” You said, smiling at Emily.

And that’s how Spencer knew he was spending his night with you.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

The bar atmosphere was loud and chaotic with crappy pop music playing over the speakers and drunk people watching the latest baseball game on the television. It wreaked of alcohol, as bars usually do, and sweat with the random people that were dancing to the shitty music drunkenly. Penelope had pulled Luke to the dance floor, dancing stupidly to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga with JJ following behind. Rossi was playing pool with Matt while Tara and Emily played Darts. Which left you all alone with Spencer in a booth that was in a quiet corner of the bar.

You were sipping some fruity cocktail that Penelope had made you order, exclaiming that it would taste delicious. She was right, of course, but you weren’t going to allow her the satisfaction of knowing that. Spencer had a beer in front of him though it was untouched. He didn’t like to drink much.

“I’m surprised you came out with us,” You said, putting your glass down as you glanced at Spencer. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. One that told you that you were certainly going home with him tonight. You always do.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, finally picking up the beer. He slowly brought the glass up to his lips, taking a small sip before grimacing. “Oh, that tastes so bad,” he cringed, putting the glass back down. He licked his lips, still grimacing.

“Now why did you order a beer when you literally hate them?” You asked, laughing as you took another sip of your drink.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Because Luke told me this brand tastes good and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” He sighed, pushing the glass away.

“Luke also doesn’t have taste when it comes to alcoholic beverages so I’m not entirely sure why you trusted him this time,” You giggled. You held your glass out for Spencer to try. “Here, try this. It tastes much better.”

Spencer looked at the glass in your hands as you held it up to Spencer’s face. He hesitated momentarily before putting his lips on your straw and taking a tentative sip of the cocktail. “That is pretty good,” he said after swallowing, nodding. “Did you know that the Daiquiri is one of the first iconic fruity cocktails as we know them today? It was invented around 1898. But it could be theorized that there were earlier versions of these cocktails.” Spencer rambled, using his hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you watched Spencer with interest. The way his voice sounded and how his face, which had become hardened from the trauma of prison, relaxed and looked more like himself again, and how excited he got talking about these facts, it never failed to make you swell with both lust and admiration for the genius.

As Spencer went on about alcohol, you ordered him the same drink as yourself. And the two of you enjoyed a nice conversation while drinking. It was always so easy with him, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You both were on your third drink when you began feeling more flirty. While you guys were away on the case, you and Spencer hadn’t had any time to spend together in your hotel rooms. So of course, you were craving him. You were always craving Spencer.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

You put your hand on Spencer’s thigh as he rambled to you about the different types of alcohol and where they derived from. It was an action that Spencer certainly didn’t miss but he didn’t question it either as he continued his sentence. Your hand stayed there for a few moments before slowly moving upward, inching towards his cock. And when you began palming him through his trousers, Spencer stopped speaking entirely, looking at you. “What are you doing?” He hissed out, unable to help the way his cock was immediately hardening under your light touch.

“Relax,” you murmured before looking around, ensuring no one was near you guys. And luckily, no one was. You moved your hand to Spencer’s zipper, unzipping it enough to slip your hand to palm him through his briefs. “No one is paying attention to us,” you said while smirking at Spencer.

Spencer sighed, looking around before looking at you. He should’ve known you were going to pull something like this with the way you’ve been looking at him all night. And in his tipsy and horny mind, he just sits back in the booth, allowing you to work your magic.

You slid your hand under his briefs, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You were careful not to pull it out, wanting to ensure that you could quickly pull away just in case. You began stroking him slowly.

Spencer tried his best to keep his face neutral and to not let any noises escape, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you. But it was hard when your hand always felt so much better wrapped around his cock than his own. He glanced around at the busy bar, grateful that everyone was so caught up in their own thing to notice he had your hand in his pants. “This is so risky,” he said shakily, swallowing as he looked at you.

You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding your head. You were close to him but to the people around it would look as though you were just flirting with one another. Underneath the table, however, was a completely different story. “And yet, you love it,” You giggled, moving your pace a bit faster as your thumb swiped Spencer’s tip.

Spencer gasped as he tried not to buck his hips into your hand. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he opened them again. “You’re such a menace,” He rasped out, trying to appear as though he had his composure.

“I know,” You beamed, still moving your hand underneath the table. You leaned in to whisper into Spencer’s ear. “Just imagine what you can do to me tonight,” You whispered. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to my body.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, looking at you with a heated expression. It didn’t take long until he felt himself getting close, the way your hand was moving and your thumb swiping the tip, the thrill of the fact that this was happening in public, and the alcohol messing with his breath certainly added to the feeling. And you could tell Spencer was close with the way his cock stiffened in your hand.

“Atta boy,” You whispered into his ear. “You like this so much,” You cooed, keeping up the appearance that this was nothing more than a flirtatious interaction.

And that was all it took before Spencer was biting his lip so hard that he swore he drew blood as he came in his briefs, coating your hand and the fabric with his cum. You stroked him through his orgasm before removing your hand. You grabbed a napkin off of the table and wiped your hand, pulling away from Spencer in the process.

“Well that was certainly fun,” You exclaimed before taking another sip of your drink.

Spencer looked at you with a dazed expression for a few seconds before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “I suppose,” He said hoarsely before reaching for his own drink and sipping it.

The last time Spencer had gotten a handjob in public was when he met up with Ethan after school one day and they gave each other handjobs behind the bleachers at the football field. It was like his only sexual experience for the longest time.

Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes

Tingle running through my bones

The boys and the girls are in

I mess around with them

And I'm okay with it

You and Spencer had two more drinks before he whispered into your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were both thoroughly buzzed, making the situation even hotter.

You nodded your head, giggling at Spencer as your cheeks were warm from the heat of the alcohol. He was the same way, a smirk lying on his lips as he looked at you with reddened cheeks. He had taken off his sweater, holding it in his arms. Without bothering to say goodnight to the rest of the team, you and Spencer left the bar, stumbling as you guys were laughing and hanging onto one another. Nothing was particularly funny but you were both intoxicated which was a rarity for the two of you and of course, you were going to relish it.

You and Spencer managed to call down a cab, getting into the back of it as Spencer told the driver the address. The two of you were sitting next to one another in the back of the cab pretty close, whispering and giggling. Spencer draped the sweater over your lap, a seemingly innocent gesture if it weren’t for what he whispered into your ear. “You know, two can play at this game,” He whispered.

“What game?” You whispered back, glancing at the taxi driver, who was paying no mind to you, before looking back at Spencer.

He simply raised his eyebrows at you, that familiar smirk on his lips that he’s held for the past hour or so. “You think you can just do what you did to me in the bar without any repercussions, sweetheart?” He asked as he put his hand underneath the sweater on your lap, his fingers moved underneath your skirt to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes widened with realization as his hands touched your skin. You couldn’t deny your arousal at the idea, knowing that when you mess with Spencer, he will mess with you back. The only thing separating you and the taxi driver was a partition between the seats that was opened just a crack. “H-here?” You stuttered quietly, suddenly losing the confidence that you had earlier in the night.

Spencer nodded his head, looking at you with a teasing but also heated expression. His fingers inched up your thigh, causing you to instinctively open your legs as you looked at Spencer. Your lips were parted and your cheeks flushed from the heat. You knew you guys shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have even given Spencer a handjob in the middle of a bar. Perhaps it was the alcohol, the buzz making your brain fuzzy. Or perhaps it was just because of Spencer. You two always drove one another crazy.

Who cared about logic and reason when the sex was always so intense and amazing?

The two of you were quiet, not wanting to alert the taxi driver as Spencer kept your legs covered with his sweater. He moved his fingers to your pussy, feeling how wet you were through your underwear, making you bite your lip. He simply leaned in to kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear. “You’re practically soaking,” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to whisper back. Spencer kept himself close to you, inching his fingers to move the fabric of your panties to the side. He used his pointer finger to touch your slit, spreading around the wetness. The feeling caused you to audibly gasp, making your eyes widen.

The taxi driver heard the gasp and looked at the two of you through the rearview mirror. “Is everything alright?” He asked, voice gruff.

Spencer spoke for the two of you, coming up with a lie that could satisfy the driver. “She had too much to drink so she’s feeling a bit queasy,” He said smoothly.

“Please don’t throw up in my cab,” The driver responded before looking back at the road.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Spencer reassured before looking back at you. His finger dipped between your folds and into your hole with much ease, causing you to bite your lip even harder. You tried not to make any other noises, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Spencer watched the way you reacted, the way your body tensed at his touch. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, trying not to go too fast as he didn’t want the sound of your slick to alert the taxi driver.

You were trying your hardest not to make any noise. It was always hard though. Spencer’s fingers were so long and always knew how to hit the right places even if he wasn’t trying. He knew how to finger you into a whining mess and with your intoxicated brain, it was even harder to control yourself.

Spencer added a second finger, keeping that slow but pleasurable rhythm. You were indeed soaking as Spencer had mentioned earlier. Your breathing was shaky as you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s wrist to hold onto something. You moved yourself a bit to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder. The sudden curl of Spencer’s fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on, made you let out the tiniest of whimpers, muffled by his shirt, luckily enough.

And just as you felt that heat building inside of you, the taxi came to a stop right outside Spencer’s building, causing Spencer to pull away from you. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, grabbing a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket with his clean hand and handing it to the man before you both exited the car.

And as the taxi driver scurried off, Spencer looked around and then at you, that same smirk from earlier on his lips. “I didn’t get to see you fall apart, how sad,” he said with a mock pout on his lips. He brought the fingers still coated with your juices to your lips, an unspoken demand for you to suck.

You, being the wonderful person you were, obeyed without any hesitation, wrapping your lips around the digits and lapping your tongue as you tasted yourself. You looked at Spencer with doe eyes, appearing to be all innocent when you were anything but.

I’m here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Rest it on my fingertips

And up to your mouth, I’m feelin it out

I’m feelin it now

You felt like a whore, standing in the middle of the street with Spencer’s fingers in your mouth. Part of you was grateful that it was an ungodly hour and most normal people were asleep, meaning no one was in the street. Spencer watched as you sucked on his fingers. You were truly a sight to behold.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. To say he was addicted to you would be an understatement. Since that first day, the two of you slept together, he was hooked. Hell, he was hooked even before then. The countless nights he spent jerking himself off as he thought about fucking you would be embarrassing if you were to ever find out.

And now that Spencer has had you? He’s never letting go.

The two of you stumbled into the apartment building, holding onto one another. On the elevator, after pressing the buttons, Spencer began attacking your lips with his, kissing you so messily and hungrily, with both hands on your cheeks. It was the first kiss of the night, one that held all the pent-up emotions the two of you had been feeling. You kissed Spencer with the same veracity, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. Spencer gently nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to part them as he used his tongue to explore your mouth.

The two of you moved in sync, making out with one another. You could taste the alcohol that coated Spencer’s mouth just as he could taste it on you as well, the tastes blending. Spencer’s hands left your cheeks, moving down to your hips to pull you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into you, causing you to clench your thighs. You two were lost in one another, dizzy from the alcohol and the endorphins being released.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

The elevator dinging brought you both back to reality as Spencer pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. The look in his eyes showed need and want, your expression mirroring his as you looked back at him. Smiles crept onto your faces as you looked at one another. And when the elevator doors opened, Spencer simply grabbed your hand, the two of you stumbling and giggling as you made your way to his apartment down the hall.

Upon reaching his apartment door, Spence let go of your hand to grab his keys from his pocket, fumbling around with them until he grabbed the right one and put it into the keyhole. He opened the door, allowing you to step in first and Spencer followed suit. He closed the door behind himself, placing his keys in the bowl next to his door.

You placed your bag down along with the sweater of Spencer’s that you were still holding before turning towards him. And without giving him any chance to make the first move, you kissed him roughly, wanting to just consume him and be consumed by him. Spencer laughed against your lips, slightly taken aback by your actions but it certainly wasn’t unwelcomed. He kissed you just as roughly, his hands going to your hips once more.

Spencer took control of the kiss, his lips dominating yours as he gained control. As the two of you moved in sync, Spencer began gently pushing you around the apartment. However, he underestimated his coordination when he accidentally made you bump into his bookshelf, causing a few books to fall and for you to pull away. “Whoops,” you shrugged before kissing Spencer again.

The walk to the bedroom was an adventurous one, to say the least. The two of you had bumped into the table, the couch, and a vase fell onto the floor that Spencer will have to worry about in his hungover state in the morning. And when you eventually got into the bedroom, well, Spencer was more a bit grateful as he knew nothing would be in the way from the door to the bed.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Spencer moved his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from the kiss to take it off of you, throwing the material somewhere in the room. Underneath your shirt, you were wearing a sage green lace bra that Spencer adored on you so much. “You’re so beautiful,” Spencer spoke huskily, licking his lips. “You know how much I adore this on you.”

“I figured I’d likely end up at yours tonight somehow,” You smiled smugly at Spencer’s reaction.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment before reaching to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoning them. He tosses the shirt somewhere around the room before moving his attention back to you. He leaned in to kiss your jawline, making his way down your neck as his fingers messed with the zipper of your skirt. He fumbled with the zipper for a moment as he licked your pulse point, nipping at it slightly, and causing you to gasp. He undid the zipper, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor.

You tilted your head to the side, giving Spencer more access to your neck as he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving marks along your skin. Your breathing was uneven with how turned on you were. You reached down to Spencer’s pants, palming his cock through the material and causing him to groan against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, grabbing your hand. “None of that,” he gently reprimanded. “Go sit on the bed for me.”

You frowned for just a moment but obliged, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. Spencer followed you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you and that’s how you knew you were in for an exquisite treat. Although, this was a treat that you indulged in very, very frequently.

Spencer didn’t speak as his fingers moved to the waistband of your panties, pulling them off of you and putting them into his pant pocket. You quirked an eyebrow at Spencer who, in return, gave you a cheeky grin. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs for you to show your glistening cunt. His mouth instantly watered at the sight in front of him. “Fuck, you’re so incredibly wet,” He groaned, licking his lips with anticipation.

“Been wet all night,” You breathed out, watching Spencer with a heated expression in your eyes. “Need it so bad, Spence.”

“I know, baby, you’re going to get it, don’t worry,” was all Spencer said before he dived right in, licking a stripe against your cunt.

You moaned, lying your back on the mattress as Spencer worked his magic against your cunt. His tongue began running laps, taking in all of your juices. When you and Spencer first began this sort of friends with benefits situation, you didn’t know just how much Spencer loved eating your cunt. You figured he did it simply to make you feel good. But then, afterwards, when you saw that blissful and dazed look in his eyes, you knew he loved it just as much as you did, thrived on it even. If Spencer could spend the rest of his life between your thighs, you were sure he would die a happy man.

Spencer moved his arms to wrap around your thighs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. He began to practically make out with it, his lips playing with your clit and sucking on it. When Spencer ate pussy, he ATE pussy. The usual calm and collected man would eat you out like he had never had a proper meal in his life, making sure to bask in your juices. He was messy with it in the best possible way.

You reached your hand to intertwine your fingers into his brown curls, tugging at his hair as you moaned loudly. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, your other hand going to your chest and massaging the flesh. “Feels so good,” you whined.

Spencer moaned, sending vibrations against your pussy and causing you to jolt from the pleasure. His tongue dipped into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He shook his head, burying it deeper into your cunt. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the one you had begun to feel earlier in the taxi but it had been ripped away from you so quickly. This time, however, it wasn’t going to be ripped away from you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, moving your hips against Spencer’s face. “So close, please don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. Spencer continued to eat you out, slurping, sucking, licking your cunt. Part of him wished he was underneath you, letting you use his face until you were satisfied, covering him in your juices. But this was great too as he got to control just how much of your pussy he got to breathe in. Spencer sucked your clit, sending you over the edge as you arched your back and clamped your thighs shut, squeezing Spencer’s face in the process as you moaned his name in that sexy way that never failed to make his cock throb. God, he needed to fuck you.

When you relaxed, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes to look at Spencer, he pulled away, licking his lips in the process. His face was absolutely glistening with your juices and his eyes were blown out. He was the embodiment of pussy drunk.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

Spencer stood up, wiping his chin with his hand before moving to unzip his pants. His movements were rushed as he fumbled around to get them off. “Need you so bad,” he said, kicking his pants to the side before taking his cum-stained briefs off. His cock sprung out of the briefs, making him let out a small groan of relief. It was so red, angry from the lack of attention. Which is funny because he literally came just a few hours ago.

You looked at Spencer, biting your lip as you looked at his cock. Eight inches and not too girthy but he knew exactly how to use it. He always made you feel so good with his cock. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, ready to get railed by Spencer. It’s all you’ve been wanting the past few days.

You didn’t say anything as Spencer grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him. He rested your legs on his shoulders before grabbing his cock, guiding it to your entrance. He didn’t bother to tease himself like he usually did by rubbing his cock up and down your cunt. The two of you were still woozy from the alcohol, that and the hormones, it was going to be quite a ride.

Spencer looked down at you, taking in your beauty as you looked up at him. It was a moment of softness between the two of you as you just gazed at one another. A tenderness that was rare. And just as quick as it had come, it was just as quickly removed as Spencer slammed his cock inside of you without warning, causing you to let out a loud gasp. He didn’t stop until he was fully in, only then did he allow you time to adjust.

It took you a few minutes to adjust to Spencer. He wasn’t always rough with you but you knew tonight that you both needed it. And after the pain subsided, you began squirming, unable to help yourself. You were needy and just wanted Spencer to fuck you.

“Why are you already squirming?” Spencer asked as he raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk on his lips. “Haven’t even started,” he said as he held onto your legs.

You let out a small whine. “Want you to move,” you said, a small pout gracing your lips.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else when he pulled his hips back and then slammed back into you, pressing his cock deep inside of you.

You let out a choked moan, instantly gripping the sheets below you. Spencer moved his hips like that a few more times, his pace tantalizingly slow, before gradually picking up the pace. “S-so good,” you whimpered.

Spencer was never one to shy away from making noises. He moaned as his cock moved inside of you, feeling your walls around him. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned as he slammed his hips into you.

The sounds that escaped you sounded pornographic as Spencer moved inside of you. His cock was hitting your g-spot dead on. His thrusts were hard and rhythmic, exactly how you loved it. Spencer moved your legs, bending them towards your chest and holding them there as he thrusted into you more deeply. The change of angle makes your moans more high-pitched.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin as Spencer��s bed creaked from the roughness of his thrusts. The slick of your cunt was also heard as Spencer’s cock drilled into you. He began to pick up the pace. “You feel so good, baby, oh my god,” Spencer moaned, looking down at you.

You were truly a sight to behold. Your tits bounced with every thrust, your hair sprawled out on the mattress, your face was contorted with pleasure. Your whines and moans were truly like music to his ears. Spencer knew he wouldn’t last long at all, especially with the way your cunt was gripping his cock. He reached down, using his fingers to rub your clit.

“I-oh fuck!” You whimpered, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Spencer!”

“That’s it, princess,” Spencer let out a whine of own, relishing in the pleasure. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded your head pathetically as you looked up at the handsome genius. His curls were sticking to his forehead as he pounded into you. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your clit was enough to have you feeling close again. “So close, Spence,” you moaned.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Spencer breathed out.

With a few more thrusts and rubs of your clit, you were moaning Spencer’s name so loudly as your back arched and head was thrown back, your cunt clamping around Spencer’s cock. That was all it took for Spencer to bury himself deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan as he filled you with his seed.

And when you both were finished, Spencer pulled out before lying down on the bed next to you and taking you into his arms. You were both dazed and dizzy from all the different feelings. You both were also breathing heavily, coming down from the intense sensations. You snuggled into Spencer, unable to help the tiny giggle that escaped your lips which Spencer also returned.

When Spencer awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache, he was ready to just get up and take a bunch of acetaminophen to make it go away. But the feeling of having you in his arms made the thought dissipate when he could just spend the day sleeping next to you instead. Because you were the only medicine he really needed.

If you go out tonight, I’m going out tonight ‘cause I know you’re persuasive

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #spencer criminal minds

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coquitokisses · 1 day ago

Text

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of you hands on you chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a shapeshifter case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #sam winchester #castiel

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mina-org · 2 days ago

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Messy concept

This is pure smut no plot just like smut, like a most to least messy I guess, Taskforce 141, Alejandro, rudy, Valeria n graves. Fem reader and it’s smut there’s mention of kinks and stuff

I think gaz and johnny are both messy, so messy.

୨୧ Gaz is over eager, all pent up from being away and his hand just isn’t enough:( slopping kisses and desperate dry humping as soon as he gets home, he’s stumbling over to the couch with your legs wrapped around his waist, he can feel heat radiating from your core, so close but so far:( he also loves seeing your pretty face covered a facial, oh so faithfully delivered to you by him.

୨୧ This post changed my life. Being messy is apart of Johnnys character for me like in every area of life he’s chaotic and messy, he’s truly out here playing games while the two of you make out, and it’s not just kisses. This man is not afraid to ride the red wave and when he eats you? If his beard isn’t saturated with your juices he’s not stopping. He’s adores seeing how far he can push you, obsessed with finding ways to make you squirt. Overstim king for real

୨୧ Valeria redefines cruelty. She wants to push and push and push until you break and gets to do it all over again! Those fuck machines? She has one and she’ll set you up and have you live stream it for her if she’s not able to watch in person. Not necessarily messy but she loves seeing you squirt but of course will reprimand you for it because you didn’t use your words:(

୨୧ Now Alejandro? Alejandro messy Vargas? Another man who’s ideal tonight in is seeing how many times he make make you come. Alejandro loves mess, happy to get messy with you. Your oh so gentle hands pumping him, so nice after a mission left him alone with his rough calloused hands. He’ll come fast after being deployed for a while, his own essence landed on his torso but he knows his pretty girl will clean him up so nicely, won’t you? And you know Alejandro will do the same, he loves cleaning up that pretty pussy, slowly licking up your combined juices

୨୧ Graves is messy, all the photos you send him while he’s away? Ruined, he says water damaged but the white stains from his and his top shadow says otherwise. I think he loves sharing, treating his men after they did well on a mission and his pretty girl is the perfect treat, but he’s the only one who’s allowed in that pretty pussy.

Price and rudy are less messy I think, but they’d always indulge you<3

୨୧ With simon? Really depends if you’ve been good or bad. If you been needy all day? He’ll make you beg. If you don’t beg? He’s getting messy and degrading you, it’s a choose your own adventure! Simon does loves seeing you on your knees, all teary eyes and pouty lips, and of course precum at smeared across your cheek.

୨୧ Rudy’s sweet and so slow it’s almost tournament but so perfect. I think he’s a big fan of mutual masturbation but he always begs to finish inside.

୨୧ Price isn’t messy, he’s coming deep inside that pretty pussy and fucking it back in there, you’re gonna give him pretty babies won’t you?

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eldizzle69 · 2 days ago

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“Biting your Tokyo debunkers boyfriend.”

masterlist

Including :: taiga, lyca, sho, Alan, haku

—Taiga Hoshibami

•so you have a death wish? /j

•if your dating he probably remembers you so he’s definitely gonna smile and tease you.

•he’ll bite you back but harder. Probably gonna draw blood.

“Gyahaha! You’re getting bold kitty cat!” Taiga laughed out and you froze in his arms. He had one arm wrapped around you as the two of you sat on the couch, and you of course couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on the fingers that hung out of the corner of your eyes.

“W-well I—“ you stammered and Taiga took your left hand into his own. You thought you’d have a cute moment, but then Taiga bit down hard on your ring finger, “Taiga! Ouch ouch!” You whined as you felt his sharp teeth dig into your skin.

“Till death do us part kitty cat,” Taiga grinned as he licked around the new wound on your ring finger.

—Lyca Colt

•bites you back

•one way wolves show affection is biting so more than likely he was already nibbling on you.

•sometimes you have to remind him to bite gently.

Soft giggles and laughter rung through the room and you and Luca laid on his bed in the Obscuary dorm. There was a mix of playful wrestling and affectionate action between the two of you.

With a sly grin on your face you leaned forward and bit down onto Lyca’s shoulder. The did even show a reaction, instead he also leaned forward and bit into your arm that was wrapped around him.

“Lyca! Gently!” You hissed as he bit down harder than you expected, making you wince. The half wolf who laid on you pouted, “you bit me first!”

“Yeah but not that hard!”

“Whatever…..”

—Shohei Haizono

•gives you a look but ultimately doesn’t say anything

•then you do it again and he teases you for it

•I feel like he thinks it’s funny, doesn’t mind

You had always admired Sho’s passion for cooking. You always offered a helping hand with his food truck and were more than happy to sit with him while he cooked up new recipes.

But today was different. You had a shitty day and wanted nothing more than to be held by your boyfriend arms, but he seemed to think that whatever he was cooking was more important.

With a huff you gently slid behind him and wrapped your arms around him. “Just a little longer— huh!?” You delivered a harsh chomp to his arm. Obviously you didn’t hurt him, it would take more than that.

“You couldn’t wait a little longer for the food—“

“I don’t care about the food Sho…”

Yes, your boyfriend could never deny you attention.

—Alan Mido

•just looks at you with surprised pikachu face

•he might warn you against doing it every now and then if he’s covered in car oil.

•it definitely doesn’t hurt him so keep biting he doesn’t mind as long as it’s you.

“Don’t.”

The instruction was simple, and firm all at the same time. You stopped mid bite, your teeth hovering over your boyfriend’s arm.

“I’m dirty,” his voice came out in a deep rumble soon after seeing your pouty face. With another guff you simply leaned against Alan, “go shower so I can bite you.”

“…..okay.” who was he to say no?

—Haku Kusanagi

•is caught off guard and shocked then he laughs and says something about not being a chew Toy

•I feel like Haku probably likes it tbh

•idk i just think that he thinks it’s cute.

Snuggling with Haku was a favorite pastime of yours. Heck it might have been your favorite pastime.

But you wanna know what was the best about cuddling with Haku? His arm wrapped around you, holding you, and tempting you.

So with very little restraint you decided to bit down on his arm, making him wince and lift his head to look at you fully.

“I’m not a chew toy,” he muttered and moved himself to lay on you further. He situated his face against your neck, limiting your mobility so you couldn’t bite him.

“You’re no fun…”

#taiga hoshibami #haku kusanagi #chanothy writes #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunkers x reader #alan mido #hotarubi #shohei haizono #sinostra #lyca colt x reader #lyca colt

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criminallyvenomous · 2 days ago

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Espresso Beans and Eyes That Gleam - Spencer Reid X Reader

•Plot - Spencer runs into a barista that catches his eye.

•Warnings - Just fluff and coffee talk

•Word Count - 766

•A/N - once a barista always a barista

It was another mundane morning that you were way too tired to be working through. The café was basically empty, which made you realize that was why you always worked alone on Tuesdays. It’d be a waste of the company’s money to add a coworker to the morning shift. Besides, the Starbucks across the street got most of the business anyways. You finished writing down the sole customer’s order onto the paper cup and began to work on it.

You took the double handed espresso tool and scooped the ground bean blend, pouring it into the espresso spout. You flipped the tool and pressed the circular flat surface onto the espresso blend, putting the spout into the machine and starting it up. As the machine gurgled and spilled out the coffee into the little cups, the door chimed and you looked up to see the strangest pair of friends.

“I have points, Reid. They add up.” Derek was walking with Spencer down the street to grab some coffee before their shift officially started.

“Would you really rather support the big guy over the little? Do you know how many mom and pop coffee shops go under every single year due to corporate greed and companies like Starbucks that don’t even support their own employees, leaving them to battle it out in Union negotiations? It’s astounding.” Spencer ranted.

“Okay, fine. We’ll go to that one. But they better have something sweet for Garcia.” Derek agreed and the two crossed the street to enter the local café.

“You go ahead, I’m gonna take a picture of the menu to send.” Derek ushered Spencer towards the counter and he nodded.

“Double foam oat latte for Sarah.” You said. The customer came up and you handed her the drink. She put a quarter into the tip jar and headed out the door.

“Hi, how can I help you? Do you know what you want to order?”

“Uh, yeah.” Spencer hesitated as his brain focused in on you. You had your hair pulled back, with a few strands falling to frame your face. The apron tied around your sweater had a few pins from media he didn’t recognize, but more notably your name-tag.

“I’ll take a large vanilla soy latte, with an extra shot of vanilla.” He ordered and you wrote it down onto the cup.

“Name?” You asked, marker in hand.

“Spencer. Thanks, Y/N.” He smiled. After he paid, he forgot to even leave the counter, just enchanted by watching you work. Sure, to some it was a menial job that relied on tips, but he recognized the skill required.

“Kid, move over.” Derek nudged, Spencer obliged a little, still standing by the counter as to not lose his view.

“One second.” You looked to the man waiting as you pumped a few shots of the vanilla syrup into a cup.

“What can I get you?” You asked the latter.

“One medium latte with no syrup, and one large vanilla chai latte with oat milk.”

He finished his order and walked over to Spencer, who was just standing at the pickup counter, watching you.

“What is up with you? You looked like a stalker.”

“Nothing, nothing. The coffee making process is just incredibly beautiful.” Spencer said without thinking.

“Beautiful? Oh, I don’t think you’re talking about just the coffee.” Derek laughed, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

“Shut it, Morgan.”

“Just give her your number or something. You’re killing me, kid.”

“Maybe.” He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and placed it into tip jar, making you look up and give him a smile that made him begin to have butterflies in his stomach.

You finished up Spencer’s drink, putting the lid on. You had taken notice of the man, especially considering his tall handsome stature as he stared at you making his drink. It wasn’t the rarest occurrence, but having the guy be this attractive definitely was. Not to mention the excessive tip for a latte.

“Vanilla soy for Spencer.” You said, handing him his drink. Your fingers brushed and he smiled at you. You wondered what he might do for work.

“I was, uh.” He looked over at Derek who gave him a little ‘go on’ gesture. “Wondering if I could get your number. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee sometime, wait, not coffee.” He internally cursed at himself and you laughed at his awkwardness.

“That would be great.” You smiled and turned to grab the other two drinks.

“Wait, I didn’t get your number.” He called out. You turned.

“Check your cup.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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sugarushwriting · 21 hours ago

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ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s3, p2

all 7 of the boys stood around you as you laid in jay’s bed, each boy looking at you with either worried or disgusted eyes. well, only one looked at you with disgust in his eyes.

“you should brush your teeth or use mouth wash.” ni-ki groaned.

grabbing a pillow beside you, you threw it in his direction only for him to dodge it.

“are you okay, love?” jay asked, holding a wet cloth to your forehead.

you nodded. “yeah. i told you that food didn’t taste right to me last night.” you groaned. “probably have food poisoning or something.”

“sorry love, you know i just have to make sure you are well fed.” jay grabbed your hand in his with a smile. you smiled back, and rubbed your thumb along the back of jay’s hand.

“i know.” you pointed to your lips with a pout and jay leaned down to kiss you softly.

“you really gonna kiss her after she threw up!” ni-ki exclaimed in disgust. “what is wrong with you all!”

“ni-ki, go make her some soup, why don’t ya?” sunghoon looked at the youngest.

ni-ki rolled his eyes. “fine. but keep a trashcan by her. i have a feeling she’s not done.”

“i’ll go make sure he doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” jungwon said and followed ni-ki out the bedroom.

the other 4 looked at sunoo, and sunoo rolled his eyes, “and i’ll go make sure he doesn’t let the other burn down the place.” sunoo walked out with a sway, annoyed he always had to keep tabs on the two troublemakers.

jay put his free hand on your belly and you gasped and sat up suddenly. “why did you do that?” you asked.

jay looked at you with a weird look. “why did you react like that?”

you stared at jay, unsure if you should tell them about your dreams. the dreams that make you wake up in the middle of the night, depressed, crying, longing for something you can’t have.

“you just startled me that’s all. your hand is cold through the shirt.” you said instead and pulled the blanket higher up on your body. “i should probably get some rest.” you laid back down carefully, turning your back to the four men, all worried for your health.

“should we be worried for her?” jake whispered to sunghoon.

sunghoon shook his head. “i’m not smelling or sensing illness. it’s probably nothing serious. she really must’ve just ate something bad.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

3:12 am

another dream, you awoke with a startle. jay sleeping soundly next to you. still baffles you that vampires sleep. or at least these vampires. kind of ironic actually.

your eyes adjusted to the time, your body feeling overheated with the amount of blankets on you. you pushed two of the three off of you.

you slept through the day? last time you were awake was late morning for breakfast!

you looked over to jay who’s eyebrows were scrunched, probably even overthinking in his dreams about something he didn’t need to worry about.

you inhaled and let out a deep sigh, running both your hands over your eyes, then through your hair. now the dreams were becoming taunting. almost blaming you.

you looked up seeing a dark shadow by jay’s door, but didn’t feel threatened. your eyes adjusted, and you saw the outline of ni-ki. he tried to move away to be unseen, but it was too late.

you quickly, but quietly got up from the bed, and made your way to the door, seeing ni-ki in the hallway by the door to your library.

you invited him in the library. “are you okay?” you whispered after you shut the door.

“i should be asking you that.” he grumbled, clearly his voice showing signs of being jolted awake.

“huh?” you questioned, crossing your arms.

“i only woke up because of our imprint. i felt your sadness. felt like you were unhappy, and other feelings i can’t pinpoint.”

“can’t pinpoint, or won’t?”

“both.” ni-ki sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair.

sometimes, you wish you could see him in that way. but to you, he’d always be that annoying ass—

“are you listening?” he asked, with a scoff.

you blinked rabidly. “yeah, sorry, mind wandered off.”

ni-ki rolled his eyes. “i said it’s none of my business, okay? if you wanna tell me about it, i know you, you’ll blab about it.”

“how comforting.” you tilted your head with a smile. then punched his shoulder.

in a slow movement, ni-ki looked at you, then his shoulder, grabbed his shoulder and stated, “ow.” with no emotion, he then laughed. he rubbed your head. “goodnight. no more weird dreams, m’kay?”

he opened the library door, mumbling to someone, then walked away. you looked to the doorway seeing jay standing there. you smiled softly, and walked to the doorway, closing the door behind you.

“i woke up and you weren’t beside me. i got nervous something wasn’t okay.”

“it’s all good. had a nightmare, ni-ki felt it and found me in the library, just checking on me.” you hugged jay around the waist, looking up to him, kissing his chin.

“wanna tell me about it?”

you shook your head. “nothing to tell. just a usual nightmare. let’s get back to bed.” you grabbed jays hand, leading him to his room and his bed.

the next time you woke up it was by the sunshine around 10 am and excited chatter downstairs.

you hurriedly got out of bed, rushing down the stairs in the old shirt and shorts you wore.

all seven were in the kitchen, six to be seemly teasing the youngest.

“what’s going on?” you asked with a smile. you went to jays side as he opened his arms.

“ni-ki has a date!” jungwon teased.

“not a date!” ni-ki groaned. “how many times do i have to tell you all! i’m just going to sees movie with a girl.”

“sounds like a date to me.” you laughed.

ni-ki then went wide eyed. he pointed to himself, “i got asked out on a date, by a girl?”

“ah, i see what the problem is,” sunghoon snapped his fingers, “ni-ki wanted to do the asking out not the other way around! that’s why he refused to believe it.”

“ni-ki, i promise it’s okay that a girl asked you out for once. doesn’t make you less manly.” you said.

“got an outfit planned?” sunoo asked.

“fuck, an outfit!”

“and don’t you dare wear those same old dark jeans and dark shirt with those dark boots you like to wear.” you pointed out.

“and why not?” ni-ki pouted.

“shopping trip!” you clapped. “oh, sunghoon, you like clothes and styling, come with!”

“with you and ni-ki? no way. i like my sanity.” sunghoon stated with a smile. “just pick out some stuff and i will help coordinate.

jay handed you the black card. “you two behave.”

yours and ni-ki’s eyes went wide with a smile to each other.

“we will!” you both said in unison.

next update — march 1st

#fanfiction #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen ot7 #enha #enhypen au #enha x reader #vampire enhypen #enhypen vampire au

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bullet-prooflove · 21 hours ago

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Hotshot - Eddie Diaz x Reader (feat: Brad Torrance)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @mckinleysbones @totalstitchlover19 @angelofthetrenchcoats

Companion piece to:

Bang - Eddie's new year starts with a bang.

Lifetime (NSFW) - One night with you makes Eddie realise he wants a life time.

El Paso - Eddie is forced to make a decision that hurts you both.

Possibilities - Eddie thinks about what might have been.

Welcome Back - Eddie discovers the reason you've been out of contact.

Home - Eddie lays eyes on you for the first time in six months.

Chemistry (NSFW) - You and Eddie have always have good chemistry.

90% Of The Work - Eddie realises he needs to put the work in if he wants to maintain a relationship with you.

Eddie finds out about Brad Torrance when the actor turns up on your doorstep, with an enormous bouquet of flowers in his hand. Eddie looks at him and then Brad looks back, taking in the topless firefighter fresh from the shower you’ve just taken together.

“Ah,” he says as Eddie studies him with a frown. “No chance that you’re her brother?”

Eddie shakes his head because despite the fact the two of you haven’t put a label on the relationship he understands that you’re committed to one another. He would walk through fire for you, in fact he has more than once. What he doesn’t understand is what the lead character from Hotshots is doing here, apparently attempting to seduce you.

“She consulted for my show a few times when Bob was busy.” Brad says by way of explanation. “We had a thing before I returned to the UK for a role on West End. It was only a couple of nights but well… you know more than anything mate, she’s unforgettable.”

It takes Eddie a second to digest all of this. He’s been back in your life less than twenty four hours and it occurs to him he has absolutely no idea about anything you’ve gotten up to in your time apart.

“Level with me.” Brad says, his arm coming to rest on the doorframe as he leans in close to Eddie. “Was this just a one night thing, a two night thing-”

“It’s a forever thing.” Eddie asserts because he wants there to be no mistake about the role he has in your life. “I’m the man she was trying to get over when she got under you.”

“Oh, you’re Eddie.” Brad says knowingly. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you mate but obviously…”

It’s not because they’re both territorial men, and right now Brad is making a play for the most important person in Eddie’s life after Christopher.

“You gonna let her know her Hotshot is here?” Brad practically purrs at him. “Or should I come back later when she’s done with you?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, there’s a taste of acid on his tongue as he grips the towel around his hips, dark eyes blazing.

“Selena.” He calls out, his voice bellowing through the house. “Your Hollywood reject is here.”

He hears your footsteps, light and delicate behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see your wrapped in a light cotton robe, your damp hair falling across your features.

“My what – oh!” You respond, your eyes coming to rest on Brad, noting the flowers in his hand. “What on earth-”

“Selena love!” The other man exclaims, his entire face lighting up and that’s when Eddie slips down the hall, busying himself with getting dressed.

This whole thing with you and Brad Torrance, it’s beyond surreal.

He’s sitting the at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and texting Buck when you step into the room with an exasperated expression on your face. He notes the lack of flowers, his lips pursing together into a smile as he says. “So you and Brad…”

“You’re not jealous are you?” You say and Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you down into his lap.

“I’m impressed.” He states, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “Although I’m not sure how I’m going to live up to a Hollywood Hotshot.”

“Why would I need a Hotshot?” You murmur, your lips brushing over his, your hands threading through his hair. “When I have the real thing right here.”

Love Eddie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #911 show #911 abc #911

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minxmut-cafe · 2 days ago

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BEAR WITH ME ??

Pairing : Bear hybrid Namjoon x Ferret hybrid reader

Word count : 10k words.

Authors note : HAHDBDHD HELLO YOU GUYS!! I'm really excited to post this because I had ALOT of fun writing this. I love love LOVED the whole dynamic as well and tbf it's minor self insert because..I too can be a menace. Like I'm not THAT much of a menace but I've had enough complaints to know I am one lololol. I think I'm gonna post more stuff about these two. I've already planned a few more things and some other scenarios and stuff. Like I said I REALLY enjoyed the whole dynamic and i think you guys would as well. ALSO I've had to make 2 parts of this because I keep hitting the word count on the damn post. BE SURE TO LIKE BOTH PARTS And if you have any requests or query my requests and asks are always open. <3

Warning : Smut, Vaginal sex, oral sex (M & F receiving), hybrid sex, mentions of death, mention of heat, feral Namjoon, size kink, spanking, mating press, mentions of various sex positions, reader being a menace, Namjoons a gentle giant, rough sex, cunnilingus, idiots in love, reader is immature, Namjoon is suffering, HUGE size difference (Imagine gyomei and shinobu). Masturbation, Namjoons a boob guy. Titty analysis :)

Synopsis :

"Namjoon spots a Tiny ferret hybrid getting pushed around by a bunch of hyena hybrids and decides to intervene. Little did he know that would lead to a series of interesting, traumatising and hilarious memories, some of which he's convinced were attempted murder attempts."

The quad was bustling. Students milled about, chatting, heading to class, or loitering in the late afternoon sun. It was a typical day—except for the growing commotion near the campus fountain.

A group of hyena hybrids had circled someone.

Laughter, sharp and jeering, cut through the air.

And in the middle of it all stood her—half their size, shoulders squared, and pissed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” one of the hyenas drawled, tail flicking behind him. “We’re just playing.”

Another snickered. “Yeah, don’t be so...uptight.”

She scowled, baring her small, but very sharp teeth. “Say that again.”

“Ooooh.” They mocked her. “She’s got bite.”

A growl rumbled in her throat, but before she could launch herself at them—

A shadow loomed.

Everything stopped.

The hyenas stiffened, their ears flattening as a new presence entered the circle.

He was massive.

Towering over them like a walking monolith, broad shoulders casting a dark silhouette against the sun. His round glasses reflected the light, but his expression was unreadable.

A grizzly bear hybrid.

And not just any bear—one that could easily break them in half if he wanted.

The air shifted.

The hyenas hesitated—then, in a blur of nervous laughter, backed off. “Relax, man. No need to get involved.”

And just like that, they scurried away.

Silence.

Then—

She turned, glaring up at her so-called savior.

“What, you wanna fight too?!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“EH?—NO—WAIT—” He lifted his hands, panicked. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

She squinted. Suspicious. “Then what do you want?”

“I just—” He struggled, fumbling for words. “I saw you getting pushed around and thought—”

“I had it handled,” she snapped.

Namjoon blinked.

Then, despite himself, a tiny smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah… I think you did.”

And that was how you met Kim Namjoon.

If anyone on campus had to describe their relationship, they wouldn’t know what to say.

It started with the hyena incident—which, in your opinion, wasn’t even that big of a deal. You had them handled. But then Namjoon had to come in like some big, overgrown hero, and suddenly, y'all were seeing each other everywhere.

Same lecture hall.

Same group projects.

Same spot at the café.

And for some stupid reason, you both always ended up together.

Namjoon, to his credit, was a bean. A giant, shy, soft-spoken bean who somehow made people nervous just by existing. He was taller than most— 7'3 to be exact, broader than all, and had the gentlest voice she’d ever heard. He was polite to everyone, rarely raised his voice, and for some reason, people still thought he was scary.

You , however?

You were half his size, twice the chaos, and nice to exactly one person.

Which meant one thing—

Once you were close enough, you never left him alone.

“Namjoon,” you huffed one afternoon, climbing onto him like a tree.

He blinked, startled, as you hoisted herself onto his back. “Uh—what—?”

“The quad’s packed. Carry me.”

He hesitated. “You have legs?”

“And you have muscles,” you shot back, wrapping her arms around his broad-ass shoulders. “I don’t see the problem.”

Namjoon sighed but adjusted his grip and carried you anyway.

Your classmates barely reacted. At this point, this was normal.

The first time you saw him shirtless, it was completely by accident.

You’d been raiding his fridge, sitting on his counter, happily munching away on his leftover dumplings when he walked in—

Fresh out of the shower.

Shirtless.

With his glasses still on.

Water dripped from his messy curls, his golden skin still damp from the steam. And, most importantly—

His chest.

His pecs.

You froze mid-bite.

Namjoon stopped in his tracks.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh,” you said casually, chewing. “Need help holding those up?”

Namjoon choked.

His entire face turned red. “W-What?!”

You grinned. “Y’know.” you gestured lazily. “Those badonks or if you want the more sophisticated name boobies.”

Namjoon spluttered, immediately grabbing the nearest hoodie and shoving it over his head. “I—THAT’S NOT—”

Too late.

You had already decided.

He was your new favorite toy.

You also had a bad habit of picking arguments you couldn’t win. It was in your nature as a ferret hybrid—small, scrappy, and absolutely lacking in self-preservation.

Namjoon, unfortunately, had a bad habit of ending those arguments in the most unfair way possible.

Lifting you.

It didn’t matter if you were mid-rant, arms flailing dramatically—he’d simply sigh, scoop you up with one arm, and hold you at arm’s length like a misbehaving kitten.

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU TREE!”

“Not until you calm down,” he’d say, voice as gentle as ever.

“I’LL BITE YOU.”

“You always say that, but you never do.”

You bared your teeth. “This time I mean it.”

He just sighed and adjusted his grip, holding you higher like you were some kind of unruly toddler.

It didn’t help that you also had a habit of climbing him in crowded spaces.

“Personal space,” Namjoon warned as you latched onto him like a koala in the cafeteria.

“No.”

“People are staring.”

“Let them. I’m comfy.”

“You’re on my back.”

“Again, comfy.” you huff.

He eventually just gave up and started carrying you without complaint.

Winter was the worst. You hated the cold.

Namjoon, however, was a walking furnace.

You quickly realized that hugging him was like curling up next to a heated blanket, and you took full advantage.

It started subtly—leaning against him during study sessions, pressing up to his side when you were sitting together. Then it escalated to full-on bear hugs at every opportunity.

At first, Namjoon tried to act like he wasn’t affected.

But then came the day you simply plopped onto his lap in the library.

He tensed, ears turning red. “What are you doing?”

“Getting warm,” you said, making yourself comfortable.

“I—you—you can’t just—”

“You’re literally a bear. This is your purpose.”

He spluttered but ultimately let you be. And from that day on, your lap privileges were unofficially granted.

You were a menace. He had accepted that. Truly. But there were moments that made him re-think everything.

Namjoon is trying to have a serious conversation with a professor.

You're behind the professor, making the most outrageous hand gestures.

At first, it’s subtle. A suggestive eyebrow wiggle. A tiny lip bite.

Namjoon notices. Regrets noticing immediately.

Then you gets bolder. You start doing obscene gestures.

Namjoon chokes mid-sentence.

Professor, slightly confused "Are you... alright, Namjoon?"

Namjoon, stiff as a board "Yes. Absolutely. Fine."

He tries to ignore you , but you keep going.

Pretending to sensually lick your fingers. Mimicking very inappropriate things.

Namjoon, mentally thought "Kill me. Just kill me now."

He knows if he calls you out, he will be the one looking guilty.

The second the professor leaves, he just picks you up and carries you away.

Namjoon, exasperated: "What is WRONG with you??"

You on the other hand? wheezing from laughter

"You should’ve seen your face—"

Namjoon, mutters under his breath "I swear I’m gonna kiss you just to shut you up."

And that makes you go quiet. (For once.)

At first, you didn’t notice anything was off.

Study sessions at Namjoon’s place had always been your favorite—his apartment was warm, cozy, and filled with books. He made the best tea, had the fluffiest blankets, and, most importantly, he didn’t mind when you sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place.

But then something changed.

Namjoon got sleepy. Not just normal sleepy—bear hybrid in hibernation mode sleepy.

At first, it was small things. He’d yawn more, stretch like a cat mid-sentence, blink at you drowsily while you ranted about your latest shenanigans. Then it escalated—he’d start dozing off while sitting up, nodding off mid-study session, even mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

And it was driving you insane.

“Namjoon,” you poked his cheek. “Focus.”

He blinked at you slowly. “I am.”

“You’re literally drooling on your book.”

He made a vague grumbling noise and turned his head, pressing his face into the couch cushion.

“Hey!” You shook him. “No sleeping, bear boy.”

“M’not sleeping,” he slurred. “M’listening.”

“You’re hibernating. You cannot just hibernate in the middle of exam season.”

He groaned, dragging a blanket over his head. “Just a little nap.”

You huffed. This wasn’t fair. You were used to a grumpy, flustered Namjoon, a Namjoon who sighed heavily whenever you did something unhinged. But now? Now he was too sleepy to react to your nonsense.

Boring.

So, naturally, you decided to fix it.

You waited until one particularly bad day when Namjoon was practically melting into his couch, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. His glasses were slipping down his nose, his book long forgotten as he blinked sleepily at the wall.

That’s when you struck.

You climbed onto the couch, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him.

“Wake up, you oversized teddy bear!”

Big mistake.

Before you could react, Namjoon made a low, grumbly noise and grabbed you.

“What the—”

You barely had time to squeak before you were yanked into his arms and smushed against his chest.

Panic set in.

“Namjoon.” You wiggled. His grip tightened.

Oh. Oh no.

You were trapped.

The weight of a freaking bear hybrid pressed down on you, limbs wrapped securely around your body. You struggled, but it was like being stuck under a weighted blanket from hell. Warm, cozy, and completely inescapable.

You tried logic. “Namjoon, you can’t just—”

A deep rumble cut you off. Not quite a growl. More like… a purr.

A sleepy, contented bear purr.

Your brain short-circuited. “Did you just purr at me?”

No response. Just another deep, satisfied hum as he nuzzled into your hair.

Oh. You were doomed.

For hours, you were trapped, helpless as Namjoon slept soundly, using you as his personal body pillow. Every attempt to escape was met with an unconscious squeeze, like a giant, affectionate bear reminding you no, you stay here now.

By the time he finally woke up, stretching with a yawn and blinking at you like he was surprised to find you in his arms, you were fuming.

“You absolute menace,” you growled. “I’ve been stuck here for hours.”

Namjoon tilted his head, still half-asleep. Then, with the softest, sleepiest smile, showing off his stupid dimples, he mumbled, “You’re warm.”

Your brain broke.

You didn’t know whether to slap him or melt into a puddle.

So, naturally, you did the only thing that made sense.

You bit him.

He didn’t even react. Too sleepy.

It was official. Namjoon’s hibernation phase was ruining your life.

He had gotten even lazier—falling asleep at random, mumbling nonsense, refusing to wake up no matter how much you poked, prodded, or even bit him. At this point, you were desperate.

So, one fateful morning, you took drastic measures.

You climbed onto his bed, glaring down at the oversized bear hybrid sprawled out like a crime scene. He was dead asleep, mouth slightly open, breathing slow and deep. You poked his cheek. No response.

Fine.

You swung one leg over him and straddled his waist, hands bracing against his broad chest. Then, with all your ferret hybrid determination, you bounced.

“WAKE UP, YOU LAZY—”

You didn’t get to finish.

Because in his drowsy, half-asleep state, Namjoon groaned—deep, low, and utterly sinful.

Then—his hands grabbed your hips.

You froze.

Before you could process it, his fingers tightened, large and warm as he guided you down against him.

Your breath hitched.

Something… hard pressed up between your legs. Not fully hard, but enough.

Then Namjoon—still completely asleep—let out a soft, breathy moan and rolled his hips up into yours.

Your soul left your body.

For a solid three seconds, you sat there, straddling a very large, very strong, very hard bear hybrid who was grinding against you in his sleep.

Then you did the only thing that made sense.

You screamed.

“YOU PERVERTED BEAR!”

With a panicked shriek, you slapped his chest so hard his pec jiggled.

Namjoon’s eyes snapped open.

He blinked at you, still groggy. Then he frowned.

Then he looked down.

The moment realization hit, his entire face exploded into red.

And then—he scrambled.

With an alarmed gasp, Namjoon flung himself back so violently that he nearly fell off the bed. He yanked the blanket up to his chest like a scandalized Victorian lady, clutching it as if it could protect his virtue.

“I—YOU—THIS—” He was stammering, eyes wide, scandalized beyond belief.

You, still red as hell, pointed a shaking finger at him. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He practically wailed.

“You grabbed me!”

“I WAS ASLEEP!”

“You moaned!”

Namjoon made a horrified noise and buried his face in his hands.

“I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY,” he mumbled, voice muffled with shame. “RIGHT HERE. RIGHT NOW.”

You were still flustered as hell, but seeing this six-foot-plus grizzly bear hybrid cowering behind a blanket like you had violated his innocence was too much.

Slowly, a grin curled onto your lips.

“Ohhh,” you drawled. “I see how it is.”

Namjoon peeked up at you, suspicious. “Don’t.”

“You were enjoying it, huh?”

His ears turned red. “STOP.”

“Does sleepy Namjoon have naughty dreams?”

“PLEASE.”

You smirked, leaning in. “Wanna finish what you started, perverted bear?”

Namjoon squeaked.

A full-grown grizzly bear hybrid. A literal terrifying predator.

And you made him squeak.

You were never letting him live this down.

Namjoon knew he was in for a bad day the moment you sat down across from him at lunch.

You were grinning.

Not just any grin—your shit-eating, up-to-no-good, gremlin grin.

Immediately, he sighed. “No.”

You blinked innocently. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“I can feel the trouble radiating off of you.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “So, speaking of yesterday—”

Namjoon groaned. “No.”

“But I was just curious—”

“No.”

You leaned in, propping your chin on your hands. “Okay, but seriously. How big is your dick?”

Namjoon choked on his food.

“What the fuck?!” he coughed.

“Pure curiosity.” You smiled sweetly. “Scientific curiosity, if you will.”

He glared at you, ears burning. “I will snap you in half, you lanky menace.”

“Oh?” You cocked your head. “Because from what I felt yesterday—”

Namjoon dropped his head onto the table with a thud.

“I hate you,” he muttered into his arms.

You giggled, delighted, poking his bicep. “C’mon, you must have a guess. Seven? Eight? Should I be worried for my pelvic bone?”

He let out the most miserable sigh, running a hand down his face. “You do realize I’m a bear hybrid, right?”

“Exactly why I’m asking.” You smirked. “I am a scholar, you know.”

Namjoon groaned again, exhausted, leaning back in his chair. “If you mention my dick one more time—”

You blinked expectantly.

He stared at you, looking so done.

Then, in a moment of pure exasperation, he sighed and muttered, “I’ll bend you over and show you exactly how big it is.”

Silence.

Namjoon froze.

You froze.

He blinked. Then groaned. Loudly.

“I cannot believe I just said that,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

You were still in shock. Then, slowly, the widest, most devious grin spread across your face.

“Oh?”

“Don’t.”

“Ohhhh?”

Namjoon buried his face in his hands. “I need to leave. I need to walk into the ocean.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted, patting his arm. “Don’t worry, Joon. I promise I won’t tease you anymore.”

Namjoon peeked at you warily. “Do you actually promise?”

You smiled sweetly. “Absolutely not.”

He groaned, glaring at his food like it had personally betrayed him.

You had never had this much fun in your life.

Namjoon had accepted his fate.

You were tiny. You were chaotic. You were a menace to society.

And, apparently, you were also his personal weighted blanket.

Because somewhere along the way, you had decided his lap was your permanent seat.

It wasn’t even something you seemed to think about anymore—you’d just waltz over, plop down onto his thighs, and continue on with your life as if you weren’t making his brain short-circuit every damn time.

And the worst part? Namjoon let you.

Like an idiot.

Right now, you were curled up against him, legs folded, tablet in hand as you scribbled notes. Namjoon was trying to focus on his computer, but it was hard when you kept fidgeting—shifting, adjusting, wiggling against him like you were trying to test the limits of his self-control.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

Absolutely none.

It didn’t help that you looked unfairly adorable—pouting slightly as you concentrated, lips pursed, occasionally kicking your feet.

Fuck.

His bear instincts were so confused. Because on one hand, he knew you were just being your usual ferret-self, but on the other, something in him kept whispering, Mate?

It didn’t help that sometimes—like right now—you’d look up at him suddenly, big eyes blinking, only to reach up and poke his cheek.

“Joonbug.”

Namjoon swallowed thickly. “Yeah?”

You grinned, leaning in slightly. “Your face is funny when you concentrate.”

He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to focus on his screen. “Thanks, I guess.”

But when he turned back, he realized—your face was so close. If he just—if he leaned in—

Namjoon immediately tensed and looked away.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

And the worst part?

You fell asleep there.

Like a goddamn purring cat.

One second you were awake, the next you were snuggled into his chest, soft little breaths tickling his pecs. Namjoon froze, entire body stiff.

He could feel your warmth.

The soft rise and fall of your chest.

The way your body just—just fit against his.

And then—the final straw.

You shifted slightly, and his gaze accidentally dropped to your shirt.

Or, more specifically, down your ridiculous little Henley.

Namjoon stared.

Not on purpose. Not really. It was just—he was a man. A man with eyes. And you were—

Oh.

He hadn’t really… evaluated before.

Nice.

Good shape.

One slightly bigger. Completely normal

And… a bit bigger than he anticipated.

Hm.

Namjoon blinked, mind blank for a moment. Then—

Wait.

WAIT.

His face exploded into red, eyes snapping forward like he had just witnessed a war crime.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He threw himself back into his work, typing aggressively, but it was too late.

Because now, against his will, his brain had a new intrusive thought:

I wonder how they’d feel in my hands?

Namjoon malfunctioned.

He needed to leave. He needed to die.

But mostly?

He needed to get you off his lap.

Before he lost his goddamn mind.

Namjoon refused to acknowledge what had just happened.

Refused.

You were asleep on his lap, blissfully unaware of his horrible, terrible, no-good intrusive thoughts. And yet, despite his best efforts to suppress the chaos in his brain, his traitorous bear instincts decided to betray him.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His tail, the absolute bastard, started tapping against the floor.

It wasn’t his fault! His tail did that when he was content, or comfortable, or—fuck—when he was embarrassed.

Which meant that right now?

It was practically broadcasting to the entire world that Namjoon was a mess.

And, of course, because the universe hated him, you began to stir.

He immediately froze.

No.

No, no, no—

You let out a sleepy little hum, eyes barely cracking open as you blinked up at him, dazed and soft.

Then, in a tiny, adorable voice—

“You good, Joonie?”

Namjoon short-circuited.

Every cell in his body screamed NO, I AM NOT GOOD, I AM HAVING A CRISIS OVER YOUR TITS.

But externally?

He just choked out, “Yeah.”

You blinked again, staring at him for a moment. Then, much to his horror, your gaze drifted past his shoulder

To his still-thumping tail.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across your face.

“Oh?”

Namjoon’s soul left his body.

“N-no,” he stammered, ears burning.

But you—being the absolute menace that you were—tilted your head.

“Ohhh?”

He panicked. “I—shut up.”

You giggled, snuggling back into his chest. “Your tail’s cute, y’know.”

Namjoon let out the longest sigh of his life.

This was actual suffering.

And you?

You were enjoying every second of it.

And Namjoon?

Namjoon was suffering.

He was suffering, and it was your fault.

Ever since the tail betrayal, he had been on edge, constantly catching himself thinking things he absolutely should not be thinking.

And it only got worse.

Because you kept sitting on his lap.

You kept looking up at him with those wide eyes.

You kept giggling, doing your little gremlin antics, completely oblivious to the war inside his head.

And the worst part?

He liked it.

Namjoon liked having you on his lap.

He liked the way you poked his cheek, teasing him.

He liked when you fidgeted, shifting against his thighs, completely unaware of how much damage you were doing.

So, tonight?

Tonight, as he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, his brain finally snapped.

“Dammit. Fuck.”

But then—

Fuck her.

Fuck… her.

Oh.

Fuck… how would it feel to fuck… her?

Namjoon froze.

His entire body locked up as his brain betrayed him, conjuring up images—images of you under him, gasping, giggling, teasing him even as he—

NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE.

He let out a strangled groan, flinging an arm over his face in denial.

Then, hesitantly—dread pooling in his stomach—he glanced down.

…Yep.

He was hard.

Namjoon let out the longest, most miserable sigh of his life.

This was actual hell.

And you?

You had no idea.

Namjoon lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling like it personally wronged him.

This was your fault.

Absolutely, entirely your fault.

Because if you weren’t such a tiny, chaotic, adorable menace, then maybe—maybe—he wouldn’t be in this situation.

But, no.

No, you had to go and sit in his lap all the time.

You had to poke his cheeks, tease him, giggle like a damn gremlin.

You had to look at him with those big, innocent eyes, completely unaware of the monster you were creating.

And now?

Now, here he was—rock hard, frustrated, and miserable.

Namjoon sighed deeply.

Then, resigned, he reached for the tissues and lotion.

It wasn’t like this was new.

He was a man. He had needs. And if he was going to be suffering anyway, he might as well… deal with it.

So, with a groan, he stripped, settled in, and started his very familiar routine.

…He was not thinking about you.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

But when his eyes fluttered shut, when his hand started moving—

A vision of you flashed through his mind.

Your lips, parted slightly.

Your thighs, spread beneath him.

Your voice, giggling—What’s wrong, Joonie? Cat got your tongue?

Namjoon whined.

This was a problem.

A very big problem.

This was supposed to be quick.

A means to an end.

Just get it over with, clear his head, move on.

But the second his hand wrapped around his cock—his traitorous brain ran wild.

At first, it was just flashes.

Your tits.

Your ass.

The memory of you sitting in his lap, shifting just right–

But then, his mind dove deeper.

The "perverted bear" incident surfaced.

The weight of your body bouncing on top of him, your tiny hands pressing against his chest, your soft little gasp when you felt him—

Namjoon bit his lip, groaning softly.

He should stop.

He should not be thinking about this.

But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Because then he imagined more.

You, beneath him.

Your legs spread wide.

Your body so tiny compared to his—so soft, so helpless against his weight.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

Fuck.

A mating press.

The size difference.

The way you’d squirm, overwhelmed, panting, looking up at him with those big, adorable eyes—

"Fuck," he gasped, hips jerking into his hand.

This was so bad.

So, so bad.

But it felt so fucking good.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want to stop.

Not when his mind was already drowning in the thought of you, spread out, filled to the brim—

His.

Completely his.

CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER

#bts smut #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #fluff #namjoon #bts army #bts jin #bts jungkook #fantasy #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon scenarios #namjoon smut #namjoon x y/n #hybrid #Namjoon sexy

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 2 days ago

Text

What's to note about Sweden in Eurovision is that, for a lot of people when they're picking out songs to send, they don't care what Europe actually wants - they think about the song that has the highest chance to WIN.

And thus, we've reached a dilemma.

The most TRENDING melfest song right now, is this one

youtube

It has everything Eurovision WANTS us to send.

It's in swedish! We haven't send anything in Swedish for over 2,5 decades! And when we HAVE, the artists have chosen to sing in english once they reach eurovision even if they sang it in swedish in melfest

It's catchy! Easy to dance to!

Good time!

It's the top 1 trending song in Sweden AND in Finland

It shows a culture not too often represented: Finno-swedes! Sometimes people IN SWEDEN are not aware there is indeed swedish speaking finns, just like there is for example french speaking canadians. And they have their own dialects, phrases and culture.

YKSI KAKSI KOLME SAUNA

However?

It will not win Eurovision (probably)

Some snobby elitist melfest fans (SORRY TO YOU GUYS BUT YOU ARE) thinks if we send something like this we will "embarrass ourselves". And we can't do that! We need to "show the world that Sweden is the biggest music export by getting good scores all the time!" (to which I say yes?? but we can also show some DIVERSITY in our songs???)

And there is the song that people think would most likely WIN the whole esc if we send it:

youtube

It's Måns Zelmerlöw, so we know he's good at what he's doing!

The performance is nicely done!

However:

Is the song that good??? Do you remember the song, like, at all? No, you get fooled by the STAGE PERFORMANCE. And sure, it does elevate the song, but not so much that I personally would want to vote for it.

Does my fellow Swedes honestly to god not know that esc people are tired of Måns Zelmerlöw? He kept showing up year after year in esc somehow, either as a middle act or as a sketch or something. He was always there.

If he wins melfest I'm honestly gonna be scared every time time he gets a good score in esc. I don't wanna live through that again. People say "don't care about the haters just enjoy your country winning" and I'm sorry but I CAN'T enjoy it if I know everyone else is mad - I also can't enjoy it when I know I didn't even vote for them to represent us. THAT to me is more embarrassing than sending a more "fun" entry that might not get as high of a jury score.

Personal opinion: I already think there's better songs in esc I think should win

Personal opinion: I do not agree that Måns' entry is better than anyone else this year. There are better songs in MELFEST already that I will vote for in the finale. Not only KAJ, but several others too.

Personal opinion: I'm not a fan of Måns' song and I don't get fooled by the "cool effects". It worked with Heroes, because he did something new with that little animated blob. It doesn't really work here for me. At all.

I do not want to experience 2023 again. Now 2 years later I feel like... fine. Loreen is Loreen. She's an icon nonetheless. MÅNS... is not her. He's more like Charlotte Perelli, Alexander Rybak or Carola: Appreciated as artists, but it definitely did not go as well for them when they came back to esc after already winning once. And I HOPE this is the fate Måns also would face.

Personal opinion: I think Sweden should chill with winning :) That was NOT a popular opinion when I said so on instagram, another Swede told me that I needed to understand that this was a COMPETITION and that we need to strive for the BEST all the time.

My thoughts on this is NOT so much that I've "fallen for the haters who hate Sweden and its success". It's the fact that during the last ten years, I've only liked TWO melfest winners. The rest I did not want to win, and thus I AGREE with Europe when they think we send generic pop songs, and I don't like them being rewarded because I didn't like them in the first place. And I want my country to send something different and FUN for ONCE, but we DON'T. The closest we got was Cornelia Jakobs in 2022. She was a LITTLE different, and I genuinely liked that. And I mean... Loreen IS Loreen, even though I did feel already in melfest that it was a little unfair because I did like some other songs more.

And so now, we have two teams here in Sweden: Those who think Måns absolutely is the only choice, nothing else will do, and we will win esc with him again. Best produced song, nothing else can top it. These people can sometimes come off as snobby and even sometimes a bit elitist in some extreme cases, even though a lot of them only are normal people who had been driven into this mindset.

And the other team is more like me: We should send something like KAJ! Or another little "different" that's already in our finale! Because we AGREE that we for once should see what EUROVISION wants rather than what the JURIES wants. No one likes the juries anyway. They didn't let Yohio win melfest in 2013 guys. Come on. It was their fault we didn't send a visual kei guy to eurovision and instead sent boring Robin Stjernberg.

Even NEWS SITES and podcasts has started discussing this. How the Swede is so predictable and rather wants to send the "safe card" than trying something new.

It's 2 weeks left until we have a finale. And I personally would not send Måns. But the songs I often want to win never win. And I think we keep sending generic pop songs because IT WORKS. It's not so fun for for the esc fans, but it works competition wise. And Swedes have sadly taken this competition too seriously, and forgotten to have fun. And maybe I am a part of that, since I seem to care so much about this I'm being so negative.

But, I will say: In 2023, the whole country was pretty much in agreement that Loreen will win melfest, the end. This year... I feel like we're more divided about this. And I think a bigger part of us will be disappointed to see Måns win melfest, both due to how we know Europe will react, but also because we genuinely don't think this song is that good. And it's a SONG contest at the end of the day, even though some argue "Well! But it's nicely produced!!!! Isn't the staging cool???" Yeah. But the song is the one you're gonna listen to, and... the song I think most people would rather LISTEN to is Bara Bada Bastu. But many people also think "they won't win anyway", and that can sadly also stop some people from even voting. "Why vote, when they won't win anyway? I don't want Måns to win but he's probably gonna win anyway, whatever :/" Not if we try to vote for others!!!

I myself in the finale will vote for Klara Hammarström, Greczula, KAJ, and if Scarlet comes to the finale this time, which I think they will, I will vote for them too. I think I'm even gonna give some few votes to Maja Ivarsson and Annika Wikihalder. There's PLENTY of other people in the finale I'd be perfectly fine and not too disappointed with if they won - especially if they NEVER HAVE WON BEFORE.

I won't vote for Måns. Both because, he's probably gonna get votes anyway, he doesn't need mine :/ And also because I just... don't like the song. Everyone can have a good scene performance with cool effects, smoke, blah blah... but that can't ONLY be it. I've seen that so many times and I'm not fooled by it.

If Måns wins melfest, it's up to Europe what to do. We can't vote for our own country in esc. So it's just up to you then to vote, or NOT vote. Remember the semifinals are all televote. You can choose to feed our ego again so that we keep sending the same thing again because it works, or you can decide not to.

#i'm too passionate about eurovision #petra mede was right we just love eurovision too much #esc #eurovision #melfest #melodifestivalen #Youtube

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nephilimeq · 3 days ago

Text

A Sense of Belonging

Prompt: Sharing A Blanket

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03:

Tommy tugged his boyfriend closer to him as they made their way down to the beach, trailing behind the rest of the 118, whispering into his ear, “You really think they don’t mind that I’m coming along?” and Evan snorted and gave him a look.

“Tommy, you may be a member of the 217 now, but you are my boyfriend, so of course you’re invited.”

He then dragged him down to the beach, two blankets on his other arm, while the airman tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he had been invited to the 118’s barbecue bash on a private stretch of beach that had been offered up by one of the higher ups. It was apparently the anniversary of the day the 118 was first created, and they did it every year, and this year Evan wanted him to come along with him, as he hadn’t been able to last year as Tommy had been on call.

As they joined everyone on the beach, Bobby called out, “Hey! We have two rules! Remember them?”

Tommy grinned as Buck groaned, and then he watched with amusement as everyone reluctantly drawled out, “Don’t do anything to make us call 911…and you’re the only one who touches the grill,” and he laughed and shook his head.

“Oh my gosh, does he make you say this every year?”

“Yes,” Evan whined, moving them towards a clear spot over in the sand that was untouched, laying down one of the blankets, and Tommy smiled and joined him on top of it, noticing everyone else migrating a bit closer towards a circle that was being formed around what looked to be a pile of firewood that would soon be a beach bonfire, and he lit up at seeing it, feeling a twinge of excitement at the idea that they would be there long enough to enjoy a beach bonfire, something he had rarely experienced, all of his other experiences being ones in the army.

He nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder with his own and said low and quiet, “This looks like it’s gonna be fun,” and Evan shook his head and relied, “Let’s just say that I brought you here for a reason and hope you don’t mind being a buffer for when Chimney gets really drunk…”

“He gets that bad?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, surprised, and he nodded.

“Oh, yeah. It’s like beach bonfires unleash some part of him that usually never sees that light of day, so…prepare yourself,” he warned, and Tommy nodded.

“Noted.”

As they sat next to each other, he wondered if he should have brought the ring along with him. They had never talked about it before, but he thought Evan might not mind being proposed to in front of the people that he thought of as his family.

—and then his thoughts were cut off as Eddie shouted, “Tommy! You made it! Good, now there’s someone else who can critique Bobby’s grilling method with me,” and the airman laughed and stood up as the man approached, and they gripped each other’s hands and pulled, dropping a hand on the other’s shoulder, and he commented, “Not up to Texas grilling standards, I take it?” and Eddie shook his head, looking genuinely disappointed.

“Not even close,” he complained. “But maybe you can convince him to add more moisture to the steaks…”

Tommy shrugged, and then Evan was back up on his feet saying, “Hey, did you bring Chris with you?” and Eddie nodded and pointed over a ways.

“Yeah, he and the rest of the kids are spending some time together. I think they’re planning on another hostile takeover of your place,” he said with a wry grin and Tommy chuckled and replied, “I’m not complaining. It was great having all of them last time,” and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re always good for the cool uncles but never for the parents!”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

The three of them laughed, and then Tommy found himself following Evan and Eddie over to the rest of the 118, who were all mostly gathered around the bonfire area with various drinks and snacks in their hands, and as the two of them started to mingle, he wondered what would happen once he and Evan were engaged. As boyfriends they didn’t have much say in the other person’s career choices—despite them already living together—and so once they officially tied the knot, would their priorities change?

Even as Tommy joked with Hen about some of their most recent rescues, his thoughts went to the fact that he knew he would never want to give up his job, he loved it too much…and he had the distinct feeling that Evan felt the same way about being a firefighter, so how would having a family work?

“Hey, what’s on your mind?”

Howie.

“Uh…nothing, just…thinking about Evan,” he honestly replied, grateful when his friend handed him a craft beer, which he took gratefully. “Things are really good right now, you know? I’m just…I’m just reminding myself not to take any of it for granted…”

Howie grinned and tapped his beer against his own and said, “I know what you mean. Every day I wake up and I feel damn lucky to have Maddie and Jee in my life. Have things been perfect? Hell, no! But…they’re definitely worth it,” he finished with a smile as he took a long sip from the gold tinted glass bottle, and Tommy regarded him for a moment, wondering if he should ask him about how he should propose to Evan—but then he remembered that the man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and so decided against it.

Instead he turned the conversation to a lighter topic as he kept an eye on his boyfriend who was moving his way towards the grill with a look in his eye that had him internally chuckling.

Oh, he was going to try and do something to the steaks, he just knew it.

But instead of doing anything, Tommy merely watched with an amused grin, enjoying the company of the 118 and the way they made him feel like he belonged, something that he had been craving for far too long—and soon (he hoped), it would be even more permanent than before.

The celebrating lasted long enough that the sun started to go down and the bonfire was lit up, and Evan had eventually migrated his way back to Tommy, drink in hand, cheeks lightly flushed, leaning into him and grabbing at his waist like they were teenagers, and the airman practically melted into every touch that his boyfriend gave him, feeling like he was somehow being able to experience something that he had been deprived of growing up.

There they stood in the fading light, lit only by the bonfire, cold drinks in hand, the wind drawing Evan’s dirty blonde hair into fluffy peaks, his eyes glowing. Somewhere in the background he could hear some music playing, something with a bouncy steel guitar, muted because it was far away.

All he could think of was the warm press of Evan’s body against his, the way his fingers slipped perfectly between his own, his head occasionally nuzzling into his shoulder, the sound of the kids screaming and laughing in the background as Howie—who was a little bit buzzed—was showing them how to play with the sparklers that he had somehow purloined from somewhere that he would bet good money wasn’t strictly legal…

…but it didn’t matter.

The sound of the waves was underneath it all as they ate the amazing food and enjoyed the wonderful company.

At some point a few people started dancing to the music in the background and he laughed when Maddie dragged her buzzed husband to a spot just beyond the bonfire and they began to twirl around. Tommy noticed the way Hen and Karen had been drinking nothing but juice and soda all night, keeping an eye on the kids, along with Bobby and Athena.

The wind picked up slightly and he felt Evan shiver next to him.

“Hey, let’s get back to the blankets,” he softly suggested against his ear, and the younger man nodded and let the airman lead him to where they had left the blankets.

As they sat down, Tommy stared at the way other members of the 118 began to dance as well, along with a couple of the kids, everyone feeling good on a typically warm California night. Evan still shivered, so he grabbed the second blanket and pulled it over both of their legs, smiling when Evan said, “Thanks,” and he pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Of course, babe,” he murmured, still soaking in the ambience of family and community, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that everyone around them would help him if he asked, and it was so intense that he had to close his eyes and swallow in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. He had never felt so safe and loved, and it was just…surreal. He had never thought that he would have this and that anyone would ever even care, let along claim to choose to love him.

He burrowed a bit more under the blanket, tugging Evan’s legs over his, watching as Eddie twirled Maddie, Howie sitting and watching with a fond smile.

He then softly whispered, “You have such an amazing family, Evan,” and his boyfriend looked up at him, blinked twice, and then said with a slow, toothy grin, “They’re our family, Tommy. You know that, right?” and he nodded.

“Yeah, I guess so…it’s just…I don’t think it’s really sunk in just yet, you know?”

They then fell into a comfortable silence, watching as everyone continued to celebrate…

…and then Evan nudged himself closer, practically in his lap, the two of them tangled up under the blanket that sprawled over their legs, and said into his neck, “Thank you for coming with me, babe. It wouldn’t have been the same without you, you know?” and he swallowed, feeling a rush of emotion, glad that he hadn’t brought the ring with him because he would have done something stupid and proposed to him right then and there, not caring who would see.

But now he knew that there wasn’t going to be anymore waiting.

Within a week, his boyfriend would be his fiancé.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #tevan fic #tevan fanfic #tevan fanfiction #fluff #sharking a blanket #nephilimeq fanfic

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