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aliteralsemicolon · 4 months ago

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

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serafilms · 7 months ago

Text

FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS

part 2 of the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader

summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”

“What, you wouldn’t help?”

“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.

She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.

“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”

“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”

The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.

Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.

The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?

But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.

Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.

There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”

His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.

It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.

You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”

Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”

You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”

Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.

But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”

Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.

“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.

“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.

Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”

Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.

When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.

“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.

He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”

“Stare.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”

You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.

“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”

You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.

There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.

“Sit. Please.”

He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.

“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”

You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’

There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.

“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”

Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”

“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”

He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”

The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.

The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”

Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.

“Can I?” Art whispers.

“Please,” you respond.

His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.

Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.

Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.

Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.

Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.

“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”

Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”

Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.

“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”

She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”

“So like, if I win?”

“You don’t have to win to play well.”

You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.

In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I was—”

Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.

“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.

“Hi.”

“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”

Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”

“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.

“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”

SIX WEEKS LATER.

God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.

“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.

“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”

Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.

“You should take this off.”

“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”

“You can wear his jacket instead.”

There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.

“You think he’ll offer?”

Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”

“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”

“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”

You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”

“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”

She’s right about that one.

Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”

“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”

She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.

You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.

Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.

(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.

“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)

So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.

But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.

When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.

Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.

One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.

Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.

The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.

“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.

“Hi,” you speak softly.

There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”

You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Shall we?”

You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”

“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.

“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”

“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.

He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”

“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.

“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you

You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”

“Physics. Or engineering.”

Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.

“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”

“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”

“You’d be right.”

Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”

Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.

Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”

He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.

He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.

“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.

“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.

Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”

The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.

Your computer pings.

Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.

You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’

A minute later, there’s another notification.

Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.

#challengers #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers imagines #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #mike faist #josh o'connor #zendaya #written works !

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d3arapril · 2 months ago

Text

[reup] birthday girl | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 4.6k warnings/tags: alcohol consumption (they're tipsy), switch!paige, oral (r!receiving), fingering (p&r!receiving), sex toys (p!receiving), spit, language, assplay (r!receiving) ᡣ𐭩 as many of u are aware i accidentally deleted my account - luckily i have managed to recover this gem! if you're thinking hm i swear i used to follow her - YOU DID! please re-join me on this journey and please re-indulge yourselves in this dirtiness for BDB PB's birthday. reblogs are appreciated more than ever given the circumstances lol ! :D love u all x

You sway slightly on your feet, the alcohol making your head feel lighter than it should as you fumble to light the candle on the heart-shaped cake. Your socks shuffle on the cool kitchen tiles, the slight friction grounding you as you flick at the lighter.

"Need help?" Azzi peeks over your shoulder to watch you flick at the lighter. When the small flame finally ignites, you both let out a victorious "Ah!"

"Nope," you pop the p, turning to smile at your friend. "I got it!"

You'd organised a small get together with close friends for Paige's birthday at her request. Not too much, she'd insisted when you'd first asked her what she wanted to do. So, of course, you made a list of those she actually liked and invited them over.

Now, you're standing behind Azzi as she leads you out of the kitchen and shuts off the lights. You hold the cake up with both hands, lips in a tight line as you focus on holding it steady. Admittedly, you'd all had a bit more to drink than originally planned. Tiktok's were filmed, drinking games were played and shots were consumed.

The girls break out into an out of tune rendition of happy birthday as soon as you enter the room, toothy grin plastered across your face when you lock eyes with Paige. She's smiling right back at you and although the room is dark you can just make out the blush on her cheeks.

She blows out the candle and her index finger swipes through the icing decorating the edge of the cake. She sucks it into her mouth, eyes still trained on yours. "Mm," she makes a noise in her throat. "Tastes good."

It's almost like slow motion, the way her mouth closes and her tongue comes out to lick at her lips. It's all you can focus on– her. You shake it off, not letting yourself get lost in the moment in front of all of your friends. You place the cake down onto the table and just like that the party continues, more drinks are poured and the night wears on.

A few hours later, most of the girls have called it a night. Now, it's just you, Paige, Azzi, Kayla and Kk remaining. You're squished between Paige and Kayla on the couch, Paige's right leg slung over yours. You're trying your best to listen to the conversation going on around you, but the mere feeling of Paige's skin on yours makes it harder to concentrate.

"You want another?" Paige’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. She gestures to the red cup loosely clutched in your hand.

You glance down at it and shake your head. "Nah, I’m good. I think I’d actually like to remember tonight," you say with a chuckle.

Paige laughs softly, her hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "Smart move." She turns to Kayla, nudging her gently. "What about you? Tapping out?"

Kayla glances at her phone, her eyes widening slightly as she reads the time—1:29 AM. "Wow– I didn't realise it was that late." Kayla yawns as she stands up, ruffling at Paige's hair. "It's not your birthday anymore, Bueckers."

"It's still my day, though." Paige pouts, leaning her head back to look at Kayla. Always such a big baby.

"Yeah, yeah, birthday girl," Kayla laughs, ruffling Paige’s hair before heading to the door. She glances over at Azzi, who’s now half-asleep, sprawled across Kk’s lap. "You guys heading out too?"

Azzi and Kk exchange tired glances before they, too, gather their things. After a round of group hugs, the door finally closes, leaving you and Paige alone in the now-quiet living room. You survey the aftermath; red cups litter the floor, empty bottles are stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

“Jeez,” you mutter, shaking your head at the mess. “This’ll be fun to clean up tomorrow.”

Paige hums in agreement, her arms suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind you. She pulls you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I had a good night,” she says softly, her breath tickling your ear. “Thank you.”

"No need to thank me," you smile. "I had fun, too. Did you have a good birthday?"

"The best," her arms squeeze you a little tighter, nose nudging at your cheek. You lean back into her, hands covering her own. "Thank you baby."

"Anything for you," you smile, tilting your neck back to look at her.

"Really?" her head tilts towards you as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Always."

She hums, her hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing gently as she leans in closer. "Not to be greedy," there's a pause as she gives you another squeeze, lips ghosting down your neck. "But where's my gift?"

Paige grins against your neck, the curve of her lips brushing your skin. “Maybe,” she murmurs before her teeth lightly nip at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

"You gonna give me something good?"

Her lips are against your pulse point now, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. A sigh escapes your lips and you reach your hands up and back, fingers tangling in her hair. Paige's hands roam your body, trailing up and down your sides before one cups at your breast.

"Paige," you moan softly, her name escaping your lips as her mouth finds yours. The kiss is slow and deep, both of you still tasting faintly of vodka and cherry, the alcohol mixing with the heat between you. Her hand cups your jaw, angling your face just right as the kiss intensifies.

She pulls away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. Her breathing is ragged, voice low as she pants, "Bedroom."

Your fingers interlock with hers, feet padding softly against the floor as she leads you down the hallway. Her thumb rubs soft circles into the back of your hand and it's a subtle reminder of how much she loves you.

Paige stops outside of her bedroom door and pauses. Her eyes are soft and there's a smile gracing her lips. "What?" you smile back, free hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, just." her hand lifts and squeezes your wrist. "I really love you, s'all."

You roll your eyes, playfully. "You're such a sap,"

"You gonna let this sap eat your pussy, orrrr..?" she smirks as she drags out the word, opening the door to her room and pulling you in. She pushes it shut behind you, tipsy fingers fumbling with the lock.

The room is surprisingly bright, the main light still on from when Paige must've last been in there. "You left the light on," you say monotonously which earns you an eye roll from Paige. She doesn't respond, just flicks her head towards the bed as an instruction for you to get over there.

"Someone's eager." you grin, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit her bed.

"Mhm," Paige hums, stepping closer to you. She pauses for a moment, as though she's figuring out her next move. "Turn over."

Your knees are weak as you flip yourself over, resting on your hands and knees. She wastes no time, making quick work of pulling your leggings and panties down your thighs. She lets out a moan at the sight of you, exposed and waiting.

"Damn," she mumbles under her breath, hand running along the curve of your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Now this is a birthday cake."

Your head drops between your shoulders, laughter shaking your frame. "Wow, P. That's corny."

"Shut up," she's giggling, too, but there's a tone of authority in her voice. The sound of her kneeling behind you is audible and the feeling of her presence looming over you is enough to keep you quiet.

Her hands grip at your ass again and squeeze, nails digging into the soft skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a gasp leaving your lips. A stray finger traces a pattern across the dimples in your lower back, lower, lower until it brushes over the puckered hole you're both yet to try. Yeah, she's pressed her thumb against it more times than she'd like to admit but she's never 'breached the surface' as she'd say.

"You gonna let me have here?" she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your spine. "It is my birthday, after all."

You hesitate, hand letting go of the sheets to reach back for her. "What about you?"

Paige squeezes at your forearm, "I'll get mine, don't worry."

She moves your arm back down beside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your ass. She pulls your cheeks apart, breath warm against you. "Can I?"

You moan out a yes, dropping your forehead against the mattress. Paige wastes no time, head dipping down and licking a fat stripe up your pussy, tongue sliding between your folds. She's sloppy, spit mixing with the slick that now coats her chin. She's moaning into you and you wish you could see how this looked from the outside.

You're shaking in front of her, fingers twisting and tugging at the sheets. She pulls away for a second, gathers the mixture of her spit and your juices in her mouth and spits it back onto you. She rubs it in with her thumb, digit ghosting over the ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Paige," you groan, shaking hand blindly reaching back to pull her closer, push her away- you weren't even sure at this point.

The girl hums, thumb stilling. "You want me to put it in?

You nod, cheek flat against the mattress.

"Speak to me."

"Please, please." you beg.

"Please what?"

"Fuck," you groan, inhibitions leaving your body. "Do anything, please. Eat my pussy–my ass, please, please–" You're so desperate you can barely even recognise your own voice.

"Relax baby," Paige coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your ass cheek. "I got you."

You feel her pull away and you're about to protest, kick your feet out at her and cuss her out until you feel her shuffling around on the bed behind you. You use the little strength you have remaining to push your head off of the bed and you see her lying on her back, half of her body hanging off of the bed. Damp fingers squeeze at your ass, dragging you back just enough so your pussy is directly over her mouth.

She's back at it like she never left, sucking your clit into her mouth and massaging her tongue over it. Her thumb finds home against your ass again, pressing against your hole as her tongue teases over your folds. The pressure is immense, the tip of her thumb slipping past the tight ring of muscle and you choke on air. You're not sure if it's a good or bad thing that you can't breathe, everything in you constricting, heart hammering against your chest.

You press against the mattress and hold yourself up, now fully kneeling over Paige. You brush the blonde strands from her face, your girlfriend's eyes fluttering open to lock onto yours. As soon as you make eye contact you hear feel her moan into your pussy, thumb sliding an inch deeper.

Your hips grind against her at their own accord, fingers now knotted in Paige's hair as you moan out into the cool air of her room. Your stomach tenses, thighs working overtime to hold you up. The chord in your stomach grows tighter and you open your mouth to warn Paige that you're about to cum but your words get lost in the mess of moans and pants and incoherent syllables.

It washes over you like a tidal wave, orgasm rattling your entire body. Paige moans into you the entire time, tongue messily sliding over your pussy as she laps you up. Her thumb leaves your ass with a pop and she presses her head back into the mattress just enough to be able to breathe out a "You good?"

Shaking legs shuffle you down her body until you're sat on her stomach, grimacing at the stickiness between your thighs. Paige can't help the laugh that leaves her, hands rubbing up the fronts of your thighs as she takes you in.

"You look fucked."

"Well," you pinch at her side, "You fucked me good, birthday girl."

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, hands leaving your thighs to grip at your ass cheeks. She squeezes, tongue licking around her lips. Her lids flutter shut as she tastes the remnants of you against her, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

You watch her silently from above, fingers trailing across her chest. Her shirt sticks to her skin slightly, sweat beading across her body. "Want this off?"

She nods, eyes opening. "Please."

You clamber off her and watch as she pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it into a random corner of her room. Her sports bra follows and she mindlessly rubs her hands over her chest, grateful she's no longer constricted by the material.

"So," you start, pushing her back by her shoulder and ghosting your lips across her nipple. She's flat against the bed again and you're perched beside her, ass up and feet kicking out as your tongue peeks out to lick at the sensitive nub. "How do you plan on 'getting yours'?"

You recite the words she'd said to you earlier and she snickers, back arching slightly when you suck her nipple into your mouth. "I got something-" she sucks in a breath when your teeth bite into the swell of her breast, pink mark left in their wake. "Something in the drawer."

Your eyebrows perk up at that, leaving one last kiss against her tit as you climb off the bed and saunter towards her bedside drawer. You pull open the rickety drawer and there's a purple wand staring right back at you.

You turn back to look at her, watching as she shuffles up the bed, head now resting on the pillows. "How long have you had this?"

Paige shrugs, a smug look on her face. "Got it a couple days ago. A gift from me, to me."

You fish it out of the drawer and inspect it, it's fairly heavy- three heart shaped buttons on the purple rubber handle. "Have you used it?"

"Nah," she taps her fingers against her stomach, nonchalant. "Wanted to use it with you."

You let out a hum of approval, turning back to face her. She's propped herself up on her elbows, legs bent at the knee and open. Her thighs are spread wide, fabric of her navy shorts stretching across the expanse of the muscle.

You sit at the end of the bed, turning the toy on and letting it vibrate against the palm of your hand. "It's intense," you muse, not able to mask the smile growing on your features. "Did you deliberately choose this?"

Paige's blush deepens, feet kicking out to hit your thigh. "Shut up, no."

You can't help but laugh at her, crawling forward and leaning down to press a kiss just above her bellybutton. She's watching you carefully, waiting to see what you're going to do.

"This is new," you say, watching the way her breathing changes with every gentle touch. "I usually have to work to get you like this, but you're so–" you bite down on her skin, letting her feel the dull ache before sucking at the mark. "Are you becoming needier in your old age?"

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's no real venom in her words. Her abs are drawn tight and she's got her hands fisted by her sides; she's clearly desperate. "It's my birthday, be nice."

"Need I remind you," you flick the waistband of her shorts and boxers against her skin, pulling at them slightly to hint at her to lift her hips. She does as you wish and you slide them off of her, abandoning them at the end of the bed. "It's not your birthday anymore."

Paige makes a sound in the back of her throat, hips raising as she tries to get you to touch her. She's been on the edge since she saw you walking towards her with that cake in your hands, the amount of love you have for her so evident in your expression that it drove her fucking insane. She feels her entire body burning up, thighs shaking as her hands clutch at the sheets.

You settle comfortably between her legs, head dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"What do you want me to do? I'll let you pick, my treat."

She rolls her eyes at that, breath shaky as she answers. "Use the thing."

You lean forward, lips ghosting over hip bone. You breathe out a laugh, tongue licking against the skin. "The thing? Like the movie?"

You feel Paige tug at your hair, an annoyed whine leaving her throat. "Stop fucking with me, please."

That's enough to satisfy you, dipping down lower to place a chaste kiss against her clit. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling, hips canting up to catch your mouth. Your tongue peeks out to lay flat against it, slowly moving your head up and down to provide just enough friction to make Paige's toes curl.

"Fuck," she breathes out, head tilted back against the pillow. "Need more."

Your right hand blindly fumbles around the bed for the wand, left hand now busy rubbing slow circles into her clit with your thumb. Her abs ripple, chest heaving from the feeling of it all. It's so much, yet nowhere near enough at the same time.

As soon as you press the on button the toy springs to life again, loud vibrations humming out into the air of the room. It almost makes your entire arm shake from how intense it is but you prevail, sitting up slightly to trail it between the valley of her breasts.

"What're you-" Paige cuts herself off, the both of you not able to contain your laughter because she sounds like some sort of fucked up robot when she speaks, the vibrations distorting her voice.

"Just," you lift the toy away from her chest to press a kiss to her lips, both of you smiling against each other. "Relax, enjoy it babe."

You trail the wand further down her body, letting it rest just above her clit. Her hips tilt up again, head lolling forward so she can watch. Your free hand presses against her stomach, keeping her flat to the bed.

"I said, relax."

"I am relaxed."

You scoff, not giving in to her attitude. You keep the wand where it is, just out of reach from where she needs it most. You move the hand from her stomach and let your fingers tickle against her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Your fingertip trails against her folds and, as you expected, she's soaked. It wasn't too often you'd swap roles like this, let her fully relax whilst you took control of the reigns but you knew she enjoyed this. Loves letting you do whatever you want to her.

You let a single finger dip between her folds, sliding up, down and then sinking inside of her. It's not much of a stretch from how wet she is, slides in easily. You pump the singular finger in and out slowly, eyes trained on Paige's face.

She's got her eyes screwed shut, head still lolled on her shoulder. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout. You hover the vibrator just above her clit and when you press it down against her, her eyes shoot open and eyebrows raise in shock.

"Holy shit," she gasps, one hand wrapping around your wrist whilst the other shoots up to grab at the pillow beside her. "That's– fucking hell."

Her mouth is wide open, tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit in a daze. The room is filled with the sounds of the toy and her moans, her hips lifting off of the bed to chase the sensation. You press the wand down harder, letting it buzz against her clit. You can feel it vibrating through your arm and the vibrations are strong, making you wonder just how powerful it is. You make a note to get her to use it on you, next time.

You move the toy against her in slow circles, slipping another finger into her pussy and curling them up. "Good?"

Paige's chest is flushed, heaving with each deep breath she takes. It's almost like she doesn't know what to do with herself, head tipping back to the pillow and then tossing to the side. "Yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse. "Good."

Your thumb reaches up to press at one of the buttons to increase the intensity, vibrations now pulsing against her. She whines, high pitched and strained as it all becomes too much. Your fingers curl faster inside of her, the squelching from her pussy just audible over the vibrations from the wand.

Her hips tilt up faster, feet slipping against the mattress as she chases the feeling. If she could see herself she'd be embarrassed by how easily she's succumbed to the pleasure, scrambling against the bed pathetically. She can't think straight, only able to focus on the feeling of her orgasm approaching.

"It's-" she can barely get her words out, sweat making her body glisten. You watch her with a smirk on your face, satisfied. "I think-"

"What's wrong, babe?"

Paige's eyes are rolled back in her head, head tipped back and neck on show. There's a blue vein stretching across the length of her neck and you find yourself leaning over her and dragging your tongue against it. Paige jumps at the feeling, broken moan leaving her chest. The hand that was wrapped around your wrist moves to your shoulder, blunt nails biting against your skin.

You're still moving the toy in slow circles, rubbing it against her clit. Paige is moaning, groaning- gravelly noises leaving her throat as the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair. She moves her head to face you, watery eyes boring into your own.

"Gonna cum," she whispers against your lips, barely audible over the noise from the toy. "Fucking–feel it in my chest."

You bite at her bottom lip, teeth pulling at her pout. Your nose presses against hers as you watch her unravel, watch a tear spill from her eye and drip down her cheek. "Yeah, birthday girl?"

Your fingers speed up, curling so quickly you fear they might end up cramping. Your wrist begins to ache from holding the toy, too but you keep going because it's all worth seeing your girlfriend like this.

The blonde lets out a combination between a cry and a moan, thighs squeezing around you and keeping you trapped as she cums. The vibrator slips a little from how wet she's become but you're quick to put it back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she's chanting out to nobody in particular, thighs tightening and feet kicking against your back. You let her do it, let it happen as she goes silent. You feel it before you hear it, her hips rolling up and thighs shaking against you as she floods your fingers, and then- "I'm fucking-fucking cumming, oh shittttt."

The words leave her through gritted teeth, fingers finding their way under your shirt to scratch against your skin. You lean back to watch her in all her glory; head craned back against the pillow, nipples hard and hair matted against her forehead.

Your fingers slip out of her first and you sit them on your tongue, licking around them and moaning from the taste. You turn the vibrator off and chuck it beside Paige who is breathing so heavily you think she might pass out, eyes closed and lips dry.

You rub a comforting hand against her thigh, a soft touch to keep her grounded. You cast a glance down to her pussy and you can see the wet patch underneath her on the bed, dark and soaking into the cotton sheets.

"Wow," is all she says, body relaxing against the bed. Her eyes open and she softly smiles as soon as she sees you, shaking hand resting atop of your own. "Happy birthday to me."

You opt to lay beside her, leg kicked over her thighs with your head resting on her shoulder. "Feeling okay?"

"Honestly," she tucks her chin in to look down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Doesn't count if you brought it for yourself, though." you counter, tilting up to look at her. You catch her rolling her eyes at you, the hand she'd settled around your waist digging in below your ribs.

"'Kay, where's my gift from you then?"

"Don't be greedy, Bueckers." you tease sliding out from beside her and walking towards where your bag was abandoned several hours ago. Paige lets out a whistle as she watches your ass as you walk away from her, rolling onto her side.

"Where you goin'?"

You ignore her, rummaging through your back to look for the jewellery box you'd so carefully wrapped last weekend. Much to relief you find it still intact and spin around, holding it behind your back as you saunter back towards Paige. You make sure to grab her clothes on the way, throwing them in her direction.

She raises an eyebrow at you, pulling just her boxers back up over her legs and an oversized t-shirt over her head. You do the same, keeping the box in your hand as you put her shorts on.

"A gift for little old me?"

You have to resist rolling your eyes at her, crouching down so you're at the same height. You hold the small box between you both and hold your gaze with Paige, watching as her eyes light up in anticipation.

"I remember looking at them a while ago," you start, thumb stroking against the patterned paper. "So I got 'em."

Paige frowns, unsure of what you're talking about. She takes the box from you, unsteady fingers pulling at the wrapping paper. She discards the paper beside her on the bed and opens up the box slowly, eyes widening when she sees what's inside.

"You didn't-"

"Don't say a word." you cut her off, knowing she was about to go on a spiel about how she didn't deserve this, how you shouldn't have spent the money, blah blah blah.

"How did you remember?" there's a hint of shock in her voice, as though she couldn't believe you'd remember something that she thought was so insignificant.

You smile at her, taking the box from her and pulling out one of the rings. They're just two simple silver bands with a small heart etched on the inside; nothing too flashy but you vividly remember Paige fawning over them in the store. "We should get matching," she'd suggested to you, nothing but a passing comment.

The ring slides onto her finger with ease and you thank the Gods above that you'd picked the right size. "Feels like we're gettin' married," she snickers, holding her hand up to admire the ring. "Lemme put it on you."

"Nuh-uh!" you whip your hand away from her, wiggling your fingers in the air. "I need to wash my hands after your little performance."

Paige laughs, shoving at your shoulder with no malice. She stands up from the bed, groaning from the ache in her legs. She wraps hand around your arm and pulls you up and into a hug.

"I love you," she mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Thank you, for everything."

You pull back slightly, scratching at the nape of her neck.

"I love you too," you lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

#im so glad i was able to recover at least this #whew!#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #my writing #paige bueckers fluff #uconn wbb x reader #wbb x reader #paige bueckers fic

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eloves-writes · 4 months ago

Text

guess

[carlos sainz x reader]

desc: you and carlos have been adamantly denying dating rumours for months, and a risky game of truth or dare reveals a secret you’ve been trying to keep.

warnings: alcohol, drivers are all drunk, maxiel crumbs, flashing underwear, slight exhibitionism, this is pretty PG tbh!

a/n: inspired by guess by charli xcx ofc. this was fun and my horny little brain wants to do a very cheeky part 2 so lmk if you want! (update: here is part 2! love yas) thanks 4 the love on my last few posts, requests are of course open for any of the drivers, love ya mwah mwah mwah!

this work contains suggestive themes, minors do not interact

—————————————————————

the after-party to the after-party was always guaranteed to be interesting, to say the least. it was the last race before the summer break, and you and the other drivers had hit the club in celebration only to end up sat around in max’s penthouse hotel room, heads still reeling from the amount of alcohol you’d all consumed. not so much the amount, really, but more that none of you drank during the races so your tolerance wasn’t what it could be. max, always opting for a bigger and nicer hotel room than probably necessary, was sat on his bed beside daniel, whilst you, carlos, and lando were opposite them on a plush sofa set. as per usual, you were the last 5 drivers standing after the more sensible of the bunch had retired to their own rooms. a bottle of wine sat open and half empty on the small coffee table beside a more full bottle of tequila, and the conversation was flowing amongst you like the 3am breeze that was flowing through the open balcony door.

you were trying not to pay too much attention to carlos; you’d been secretly seeing each other for a while, and usually it was easier to hide but alone with just 3 of your close friends you figured it was only a matter of time before one of them caught on to something. of course, they had, and it was lando in particular that noticed your distinct effort to not look at carlos at all tonight.

“we should play a game,” he said slowly, mischievous grin on his face.

daniel responded in agreement, max raising an eyebrow. “we’re not playing spin the bottle.”

“why is that always your first thought, max?” you laughed. carlos smiled and sipped his wine, enjoying the sound of your teasing laughter.

“truth or dare,” daniel said suddenly. “dare max to play spin the bottle!”

you all laughed again, apart from max who rolled his eyes. “no, no, i pick truth.”

“ok,” carlos noted. “if you had to race for any other team, where would you go?”

max pretended to think for a moment before replying. “nowhere. you’re all shit.”

“sorry, who just won in spa?” you exclaimed, recounting your latest victory in the mercedes. “and piastri finished ahead of you too.”

“ok, fine,” max replied in defeat. “i’m not answering.”

“that’s not the game!” lando eyed up the tequila. “if you don’t answer, or you don’t answer truthfully,” he shot a pointed look towards you and carlos, “you have to take a shot.”

you groaned. “i think we’ve all drunk enough, norris.”

he raised his hands innocently. “guess we’ll all have to play the game properly then.”

a couple of rounds later, you’d all done at least one more shot, a few team principals would be waking up to an interesting text in the morning, and daniel had salt on his bare stomach after you’d made max do a shot from his belly button. the questions were becoming increasingly dirty, you just narrowly avoiding a particularly evil fuck marry kill from daniel. it was carlos’s turn again, the spaniard sat back lazily next to you.

“truth or dare, carlitos,” lando baited with that same mischievous smile.

“truth.”

“i want you to guess,” he crowed. “what colour underwear y/n is wearing.”

a light blush tinged his tan cheeks. he knew full well what colour your underwear was, having taken it both on and off in the club bathroom not too long ago.

“fuck.” he looked to the shot glass on the table. he was already far too drunk, and not in the mind to be smart enough to just lie.

“red,” he answered, making it sound like a guess.

lando smirked. “interesting. y/n, truth or dare.”

“it’s not my turn,” you protested, looking to max and daniel who were just as eager to get some truth out of you both. you rolled your eyes, stupidly letting your mouth speak before your brain. “fine. dare.”

lando looked you dead in the eyes, then to carlos.

“i dare you to show us what colour your underwear is.”

the aftertaste of the tequila was still sweet in your mouth and the thought of another shot made you a little nauseous. fuck it, you thought. guess this was one way to let the cat out of the bag. it wasn’t like the guys hadn’t seen your underwear before; you were admittedly somewhat of a party girl, the tiny skirts you wore left little to the imagination and you’d been around them in a bikini more times than you could count anyway.

carlos watched you with apprehension, unsure of what you were going to do but comfortable enough with the guys to know what happened in this hotel room would stay here, and if you wanted to give them a flash of the perfect ass he got to grab onto every night whilst he fucked you then he was ok with that too. in fact, his jeans tightened slightly at the passing thought of fucking you in front of them to really show who’s you were.

you stood up, grabbing onto the arm of the sofa for support as you found your balance.

“you’re a perv, lando, asking to see my panties,” you teased. max and daniel had a matching look of amusement, the latter wolf-whistling as you turned around and pushed the fabric of your mini dress up to your hips. red and lacy, fit snugly over your pretty ass. you dropped the fabric and sat back down, making eye contact with carlos who looked like he wanted to pounce on you there and then.

“lucky guess,” daniel quipped.

carlos finished his glass of wine and smirked. “didn’t have to guess.”

lando let out a cheer. “i knew it!” he shouted.

“you guys kind of suck at keeping secrets,” max added. “thanks for that little show though.”

“watch it, verstappen,” carlos countered, moving closer to you and placing a possessive hand at the top of your thigh. “wouldn’t want to have to give you a bigger show now, would i?”

one person asks and i’ll write a part two where he does in fact give them a bigger show

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dragibus-woso · 3 months ago

Text

Hot Mountains

TW : Smut, multiple partners, strap-on, alcohol, dirty talk. credits @cafekitsune

You smirk when Leila can't help but chuckle in the quiet of the dorm where you are. To celebrate Laia Codina's birthday you went to the mountain, renting a big house for all of you. It was after Christmas and before the first trainings of the year, it was a perfect timing to meet each other. Some of your friends weren't in Spain, but you still manage to have a great time.

And a great night.

Leila and you might be the only ones who were not sleeping, you all went to bed almost one hour before and you can hear some of them snoring. For their defense, alcohol was consumed without moderation tonight. Which wasn't usually the case, almost all of you being footballer.

Leila and you aren't sleeping, you flirted almost all night long, giggling together like horny teenagers. Your teammates weren't surprise to see you like this, it's always how you are acting together. It's very known by a lot of them that Leila and you have that sex friend's relationship. Sex without attachment is what you need right now.

And you are horny, Leila barely kept her hand for herself all night and the heath between your legs is more than persistent.

Leila leaning on you right now to suck at you neck isn't helping either.

"Leila" you half-whispers, half-moan under her lips.

"Fuck. I need you so bad."

She is straddling one of your legs and you can feel her heath through your pants.

"We can't do that here" you whisper, turning your head on your right.

Alexia is sleeping next to you while you are between her and Leila. Next to Leila is the wall, which is more convenient, but there is no way that Alexia catches you having sex.

"You just have to be silence."

Leila is smirking while looking at you. You didn't expect for her to slide her hand between your legs, but you know that she can feel your wetness like this. The squeak you let go can attest to the difficulty you have in remaining silent.

"You're so wet. I want to taste you again so bad"

You might die right now. Closing your eyes you try to calm down your excitement but it's impossible. Not with Leila like this on you, saying those kinds of things to you.

"Come on. I even take the strap" she whispers.

She knows how making you flinch. She prevents you from tightening your thighs together, holding them firmly apart with her hands.

"Ok" you finally say.

You don't see her happy smile when she gets up from the bed to rummage discreetly in her bag. Not more than a minute later, she's back with the little black bag you know so well. To have a better look at her, you have leaned on your elbows.

Putting the bag next to your head, Leila leans again on you, lying down on you.

"First, let me warm you up."

You don't have time to answer that you don't need to, actually. She kisses you hard, her body covering yours almost everywhere. You don't waste time before putting off her shirt, grabbing her chest with both of your hand. You know what she likes too.

She has her tongue in your mouth which prevent her for moaning too loud when you pinch her nipples, feeling them tighten under your fingers.

You feel her excitement becoming bigger when she sloppily sneaks her hand under your underwear, pinching at your clit. Your surprise explain why you grab her breast harder, but it makes her moan again.

You stop your movement to be sure that no one is up, but Leila doesn't. You feel her hips grind against you, her clit presses against your tight. Her breath is hot and short against your neck, and she bites you under her pleasure.

You take a big breath when she sticks her nails in your skin, her strokes being now quicker and harder. You then grab her ass to help her with her movements, her high-pitched cries making you wetter than ever.

Leila comes hard on your tight, biting you again in your neck to prevent any sound coming out of her mouth. You bite your lips too, not wanting to make any noise. When her orgasm is finish, Leila let herself go against you, before rolling on her back next to you.

"Fuck" she mumbles, passing a hand on her forehead to remove strands of hair stuck by sweat.

"You’re okay?" you smirk, looking at her while getting on your side.

"Yeah" she breaths. "I just feel like I hit a wall"

You don't say anything, stroking her naked body with your hand, letting her time to take her breath again. But when she opens her eyes, you can see how sleepy she is.

Doesn't sound good for your own release.

"I'm sorry, I just... I think the orgasm plus the alcohol isn't a good thing for me. Can we maybe continue that tomorrow at your flat?"

To be honest you were hopping to have something too tonight, but you aren't the kind of person pushing someone else for it. So, you try to swallow your deception and just nod, smiling softly.

"Yeah. No worry."

Leila smiles at you and closes her eyes. In like five seconds she's dead asleep next to you.

Closing your eyes in frustration, you let yourself fall on the mattress again. You don't have the choice but to fall asleep too. Except that your body is almost screaming for any kind of release.

You don’t have the choice.

Your eyes still closed, you let your hand slide along your stomach to go between your legs. You're so hot and wet here that it's almost embarrassing.

You were about to touch your clit when you feel a hand on your arm, making you open your eyes suddenly again. You are relieved that Leila seems to have suddenly find a second breath.

Except that the eyes in which you fall aren't the black eyes of Leila. Those eyes are hazel, even darken by desire. You never have seen such a look in Alexia’s eyes. Her breath is quick too and she doesn't have to say a world for you to understand that she probably heard everything.

"Let me help you?" she whispers seductively.

You nod and gulp, looking at her when she moves to place herself above you. Her movement makes the mattress move a little and something soft is suddenly against your temple. You turn your head to see the small black bag, where the strap is.

You look at Alexia again and you see her smirks at you. Again, she doesn't have to talk. You know she knows what's inside.

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

To be honest, you are so horny that you would probably have accept everything she would have propose to you. But the way she talks, the way she looks at you and the way her body is dominant, you might explode in a very short time.

Of course, you nod again. Do you want Alexia to fuck you with a strap-on? Hell yeah.

The blonde sits on your legs, grabbing the bag in one hand.

"Turn around."

She's taking the strap out of the bag when you oblige, laying on your front. You hear Alexia moving behind you, but something in you prevents you to look at her.

When you finally want to do it, you feel her hands on your hips, making you jump softly. You don't know if Alexia doesn't realize it or if she doesn't want to give it any importance. It doesn’t stop her from passing her thumbs under the elastic of your underwear anyway.

Her fingers are hot against your skin, but it makes you shiver anyway.

Alexia doesn't talk when she pulls down your underwear and pants at the same time, in a single fluid movement. She doesn't take them off completely, letting them somewhere in the middle of your tights.

"Spread those pretty legs of yours, will you?" she whispers seductively, leaning to have her lips next to your ear.

You can feel the strap between your cheeks when she leans again to lick your neck. Your pussy is pounding.

You do as she says, in the best way you can with your clothes still half on your thighs. You feel Alexia positioning herself behind you and the tip of the strap against your cunt. You weren't expecting of her to take you immediately with it, maybe to work with her fingers at first.

But you don't have time to say anything before she starts pushing in you and the situation is so exciting for you that you definitely are wet enough for it. Sure, you can still feel yourself being stretched around the strap and it does hurt a little. But she manages to bottom you out in the first try, hitting the right spot.

She then grabs your hips to put your ass a little higher in the air before getting out slowly of you. To try to breath better, you turn your face on the side, looking where Alexia was allegedly asleep several minutes before.

But she's definitely not asleep now, fully entering you again in one hard movement, almost making you scream in pleasure. You grab the sheets and bites the pillow while she rails you. Each movement faster and harder than the one before.

You feel her tights slapping against your ass at every trust and you get on your knees for her to have a best angle. You can hear how wet you are, if you aren't making any noise with your voice, your body is betraying you if someone else isn't asleep.

Alexia's fingers on your hips aren't smooth, they are grabbing you with strength and you are sure that you will have the marks of them on your skin tomorrow.

But you don't care, not with all the pleasure you are getting right now, not with the way she keeps hitting you right where you need.

Alexia grunts from time to time behind you and you know that the strap is stroking against her clit, giving her pleasure too.

The pressure in your belly is getting bigger and you know that the orgasm you were looking for is coming. She doesn’t stop at any time, her stamina pretty impressive for someone who drunks alcohol during the night.

"Ale-" you manage to whine between silent moans of pleasure.

"Hush. Come if you need it, but I won't stop until I'm coming too."

A few trusts later, you feel like your body just exploded. You are shaking hardly against the mattress, your face hidden in the pillow to mask the moans of pleasure you aren't able to restrain this time.

Alexia is still fucking you like no tomorrow through it. The only difference is that she now has put her hand next to your elbow on the mattress, pinning you even harder against it, trapping your body with hers. She’s everywhere on and in you.

All your body is on fire and her persistent movements aren't getting tired. When you turn your head to have a look at her, you can see that she's looking right at your face. She smirks at you when she sees you watching her, before giving you a particularly hard trust.

Another orgasm is already coming, different from the first. You can feel it becoming stronger and stronger and Alexia probably feels it with how much your walls are tightening against the strap, making harder for her to fuck you. Your body is shaken mercilessly by the hard moves of Alexia.

But she doesn't stop and before you are able to prevent her, you come again. This one is devastating. You silently scream in the pillow, feeling a new wave of wetness drip between your legs. Your body get rigid, your back arching and your hips moving faster under Alexia.

Your high last for a long time, your body shaking without you being able to control it. You feel like it last for an eternity and when you come back at yourself, Alexia is still pounding hard into you. The pleasure is almost too much, your body pleading for rest.

You turn your face to have a look at Alexia again and this time she's not looking at you. Her eyes are closed, and she puts so much force on and in your body that you can't move. The tiredness of your two orgasms might not help either.

Alexia's face makes you understand that she's close too, so you shut your eyes and take on you to let her come too. She groans when she does, pounding in you one last time so hard that you move a few centimeters on the mattress, your head hitting the headboard.

Alexia then makes circular movements with her hips to get rid of her orgasm, making you moan again in pleasure. You never felt this way. Your tights are wetter than ever, your body is wrecked but asking for more.

"Fuck, you're so hot. You want more Sweetheart?"

You can't talk so you just moan in answer, your hips moving by herself against the strap-on. You feel Alexia move beside you, the strap going deeper in you again.

"Look at you, meowing like a cat in heat" Alexia groans in your ear.

"Please" you moan back.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want with me, but I need to come again"

Alexia grabs your clitoris between two of her long, thick fingers and it's only her hand slamming against your mouth that prevent everyone to hear your screams of pleasure.

"Shut up"

She manages to keep you against her, one hand torturing quickly your clit while the other is still press against your mouth. She starts to pump into you again and it's only a matter of minutes before you come once again, unable to control the whimpers and moans coming from you.

Alexia let you some time before informing you that she will pull out. She doesn't have remove her hand from your mouth which was a good idea, because you can't help but whimper when you feel empty again.

You can't understand the different sounds around you, but when you open your eyes again, Alexia has put the strap back in its bag. She seems a little breathless too when she lies next to you, in her bed again.

She looks at the ceiling before looking at you with a smirk.

"Well, if your sexfriend let you unsatisfied again, you know where to find me."

#woso smut #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso one shot #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #alexia putellas smut

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piastappies · 3 months ago

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩 BEFORE US! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. ollie bearman x webber!reader.

summary. a drunken encounter leads to a history straight out of rom–com, turning the world of a formula 2 driver upside down.

notes. reader tells ollie the plot of before sunrise. also, reader is said to be ollie’s age (kinda self-indulgent LOL) maybe part 2 of them meeting in spa? 😁

it was eleven in the evening, while you were having a good time on the streets of hungarian capital city. your actions were not exactly responsible as you were there with a friend of yours that you met online a few months ago. also, you weren’t exactly sure how you managed to strain away from your father and oscar. well, alright — there was a possibility that a train, a sweet smile and a promise to be safe were involved.

honestly, you don’t even know how you ended up in that small bar, but in the larger point of view, you were happy that you let lara drag you there. you already had a few drinks in, you were going back to your booth, when you accidentally bumped into a muscular, tall guy, spilling the drink on your white dress.

“shit, i am so, so sorry.” the boy — because you could easily notice that he must’ve been similar to you in age — spoke relatively slowly, probably out of kindness as he couldn’t tell if you were fluent in english or not. some would call it offensive, but you considered it slightly endearing that the boy tried to be as considerate as possible, knowing that not everyone in the world speaks english.

his face fell to your chest for a tenth of a second, a small cough escaping his lips, before his cheeks tinted pinkish from embarrassment that he even let himself be so blatantly disrespectful towards you. what made it even worse was that the once white dress became see-through.

“shit, shit, your dress. i– here, take this.” he stuttered, swiftly taking off his grey hoodie, letting you take a glimpse of his toned stomach for half a second as his shirt rolled up.

people around you two, suddenly stopped existing and maybe the alcohol you’ve consumed that night was at fault — or maybe it was the charming aura around him, but you honestly couldn’t care less. he was the only guy that wasn’t trying to harass you or make your night less fun and definitely more stressful.

“you shouldn’t apologise, it’s all my fault. i wasn’t paying enough attention.” your voice was loud, but yet still soft enough, so only the boy you bumped into could hear you. “i’m yn, my friend lara is there in the corner booth, do you… um, maybe wanna join us? so i can get you a drink for bumping into you?”

it might’ve been a risky move — he could always say no, laugh at you and go away, thinking you were the most embarrassing person in the entire bar. or he could think that you were a pretty cute, interesting girl that he’d like to spend a july evening with. and, fortunately for you, ollie introduced himself with a quick breath of relief (that he didn’t know he was holding), said that he’d love to join you and buy you a drink, but he was there with two other guys and one of the friends’ girlfriend.

so, upon hearing that, as a responsible human being, you… suggested that they should join you as well, because you really felt like getting to know ollie a tad better. upon hearing that he wasn’t there alone, you nodded with a small smile, before suggesting that it’s not really a big deal and that maybe the four of them would like to join you and lara, who wouldn’t have anything against it since she was a social butterfly, loving bigger crowds.

two and a half hour later, you ended up walking down the cobblestone pathway, while your newfound group of friends was a few steps ahead. lara quickly got along with kimi, eliska and gabriele, so you felt less guilty that you got so occupied in the endless conversation with ollie, slowly trailing behind the group. a month or two later, you were told by eliska that she saw the way you and ollie click and made sure you could get along.

you weren’t sure where the six of you were going, budapest was a gorgeous city, but keeping your eyes on bearman was pretty much enough. he had your arm hooked around his as you slightly started to stumble from the tiny gaps in the path. a giggle escaped your mouth as he whispered a really cheesy joke, his lips inches away from your ear. then, your drunken mind thought that you should come clean with the cute boy about why you’re actually in budapest.

“i have a confession.” you started quietly, your words barely above a whisper. ollie let you continue as he simply nodded. if you weren’t tipsy from all the strawberry daiquiris you had at the bar earlier, you would notice how his body tensed slightly, almost as if he was afraid of what you were about to say.

the first thing that came to his mind was that you had a boyfriend somewhere in monaco, while he was really getting a vibe from you that maybe you were interested in getting to know him as much as he wanted to get to know you. just half a second later came the thought that you knew who he was and it was just as awful. he hasn’t been in the spotlight of motorsport for a long time yet, but he was aware of how people’s perception on things change once they realise what he does, and he really, really didn’t want it to be the case with you.

“this is not something i usually tell people on the day i meet them, but you’re so genuine and so, so nice to me.” your words were coming off as rambling, though despite the lump in his throat, the prema driver couldn’t help but think that maybe he could live with the thought of you bumping into him on purpose if he could listen to your cute rambling for a few more minutes. “and i’m really enjoying spending time with you right now, and-and i don’t want you to think that i’m like a liar or something, because i really am not.”

“hey, breathe. whatever it is, i don’t think i’m gonna perceive you as a liar.” his quiet chuckle with a nervous undertone was enough for you to calm down a bit. his hand dropped to yours, squeezing it for a little more reassurance.

“that’s what i’m really hoping for.” you whispered, looking down at your jointed hands, a ghost of smile lingering on your face. “so, there’s this sport you might’ve heard of — or not, honestly if it wasn’t for my dad, i don’t know if i would, but — gosh, i’m sorry i’m rambling again. alright… there’s, um, formula one, right? i guess you know, because it is a big thing in england, i suppose.” oliver nodded once again, a pit in his stomach growing.

“the thing is… i’m in hungary for that exact reason. there was the grand prix this weekend and i came here with my dad, because, um… he’s a manager of, um, one of the drivers. oscar? he won today, yesterday, technically.”

ollie couldn’t believe what he just heard. he was so scared that you were pretending just to boast about hanging out with formula 2 and formula 3 drivers, while you were having an inner turmoil of your own, weighing pros and cons of telling him that you were the daughter of the mark webber. he could see the nervous expression on your pretty face and his heart swelled, knowing that in those two and a half hours of constant chatter he gained so much of your trust to be told that.

for other people it might seem like it was nothing, nevertheless ollie knew how much fake people you must’ve met in your life, who liked you for your father’s achievements and not you. god, for a moment he felt like crying.

“i was there too.” he gave you a shy smile. before you were able to overthink every possible scenario with the worst possible outcome, his smile widened, his hip gently nudging yours. “i’m racing for prema in f2.” he chuckled at your surprised expression.

bearman, as he was a tad more sober than you, could easily notice the weight falling off your shoulders, once you recognised him, quickly replaced by a blush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks.

“that’s why i thought i’ve seen you somewhere.” you muttered, scrunching your nose, gears in your brain working overtime. “i’m sorry, it’s— i haven’t really been up to date with formula 2. but i remember you from saudi, i wasn’t there, but my dad was really impressed. everything makes sense now, though.”

“no need to be embarrassed or anything, i’m glad neither of us recognized each other. you made me feel like a normal teenager for once.” he grinned down at you, your face matching his as he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer, but you couldn’t really complain.

you didn’t remember the moment, when your night turned into a reenactment of one of your favorite rom-coms — before sunrise. gabriele, kimi and eliska had to go back to their hotels, suspiciously at the same time, when lara’s curfew was coming. it was truly reckless for you to stay out with ollie till your train back to the place your father had rented for the four days stay in hungary. once you were alone, he made sure to keep you close to him at all times, so if an emergency occured, he’d be able to protect you.

“i feel like i’m in a movie.” your admission was soft as you slowly sat down on the grass in the park, the state of your white dress long forgotten as it’d be green once the sun was up.

“a movie you like?”

“my favorite one.” ollie smiled.

“tell me about it.” he suggested, plopping down next to you, uncorking the wine you two bought earlier in one of those 24/7 shops.

“it’s about two people that met on a train going across the europe.” you started explaining, ollie’s free arm slung across your shoulders once again, making you realize what his love language must be. “he’s american and she’s french, once they stop in vienna, he asks her to get off the train with him and walk around the town with him till he has to go to the airport, because it’s his last day in europe. she thinks it’s crazy, but she agrees and they spend the entire night together. nothing kubrick-esque happens there, all of the action happens during their dialogues. they share opinions and stuff. it’s kind of silly, but they end up in a park, too, with wine and stuff.”

“like us.” he commented, his eyes still lingering on your face as they were, while you were skimming over the plot of the movie.

“like us.” you repeated softly.

“so, what do they do in the park?” ollie asked another question, earning himself a small hum from you as you shifted closer, his thumb absentmindedly drawing shapes on your shoulder. your stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies as he asked all the right questions, made all the right moves, giving you all the right smiles.

“they kiss.” a whisper left your lips, tilting your head to get a better view of his face.

“they kiss.” it was the prema’s driver’s time to repeat the short sentence as you just nodded, noticing the way his eyes flickered to your mouth.

sweet silence embraced the two of you as bearman took his chance and leaned forward an inch or two, cautiously testing the waters. when you didn’t pull back, a smile tugged onto his face, before cupping your cheek with his free hand.

however, ollie didn’t kiss you for a moment that felt like eternity. his mouth just hoovered over yours, giving you a chance to back up, to show him that he read the signs wrong, but you didn’t. your eyes locked with his, before his lips were moving against yours in a sweet, gentle and almost tantalising manner. you couldn’t tell how long were you kissing for, but when the two of you finally pulled away, his mouth was tinted with the red shade of your lipstick, both with messed up hair and slightly swollen lips.

it was almost seven in the morning, while you were sitting at the train station with your hand clasped in ollie’s. the silence between you was truly the most comfortable thing in the world at the moment. budapest was slowly waking up in the background as you enjoyed his presence beside you.

“what do they do in the movie before they part ways?” he interrupted the silence.

“they promise to see each other in a six months time in the same place. they don’t exchange numbers or anything, though.” you recalled, wondering where was he going with this.

“and do they? meet, i mean.” he asked, already expecting the answer as you’d told him it was a trilogy.

“not in the set time. she can’t make it to vienna again, because her grandmother dies, but he does.” you nodded. “but they do meet each other again, eight years later, this time in paris.”

“good thing we’re not jesse and celine.” ollie joked, a grin tugging on your lips as you nod in agreement. “i do have your number, and we can see each other in spa on thursday, if you want to.”

“i do.” this time, you were the one to press a gentle kiss on his lips for a brief second as your train arrived. bearman just grinned back at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “i’ll see you on facetime then, and in belgium.”

ollie stayed for another five minutes after your train departed. his gaze dropping to the phone in his hand before he quickly sent you a message.

ollie: thank you for making this night amazing for me x

506 notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 11 months ago

Text

and they were roomates...

yuki x reader // wc: 7.k

cont: fem reader, mutual pining, confessing, inexperienced reader, oral, fingering, humping, so much dirty talk, the dirtiest dirty talk ever, multiple orgasms/rounds, Yuki fucks you with a strap, rough sex, squirting, she talks you though it, Yuki is whipped

note: for the lovely @istyrrstars of course tehe... <3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Yuki barely flinched when you opened the front door abruptly and slammed it shut behind you like you had a personal grudge agaisnt the piece of wood. You were supposed to be out on a date with your partner, but judging from your red cheeks and swollen eyes, it hadn't gone well. "Hey, sweet chee-" You cut your blonde roommate off with a curt, "Not now Yuki." as you walked behind her on the couch and made a b-line for your room.

Yuki's eyes raised in surprise, she can't remember a time when you ever snapped at her like that. She winched when you slammed your bedroom door shut with more animosity than you had shown the front door. Just what had happened on your date? Yuki knew you better than to let you wallow in your own sadness, you needed to talk to someone or you were going to spiral, and fast.

Yuki always was good at getting you to open up for her. A melodic knock was rapped on your door, the sound coming through muffled as you were buried face-first in the sheets, your arms crossed around your head. "Yuki, go away." You sighed, knowing if she came in, you were going to spill, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk about what just happened.

"I'm not gonna let you drink yourself dumb and avoid your problems, let me in." She said, a hint of what sounded like teasing in her voice. God, she really did know you well. You were planning to hit up your girlfriends and get all hot for a night out on the town that you would preferably not remember in the morning, thanks to the copious amount of alcohol you were going to consume.

You stayed silent, sighing against your warm sheets, knowing she was going to do as she pleased anyway. Your thoughts were confirmed only seconds later when Yuki waited for a response that never came and decided to push your door open, letting herself in your room. You felt the bed dip as she swiftly made her way to the edge of your bed, her hands bracing her body up behind her on your sheets.

"You gonna talk to me, or suffocate yourself?" She asked in amusement, raising her eyebrows at you. You groaned dramatically against the sheets, rolling your body properly over, your hands slapping the sheets by your sides, dangerously close to hers. "Fuck, stupid fucking prick thinks he can break up with ME??" You said, your words coming out incredulously.

Yuki opened her mouth to respond, but you were faster than her. You shot up from your position and sat on your knees, getting in her face. "He made me look like a fucking fool in my favorite cafe!! What a dick!!" You continued, waving your arms around in front of you. Yuki was not listening to a word you were saying, but she knew. you didn't really want her to say anything, so it worked out perfectly.

Her eyes were scanning over your entire being, your mascara that had smeared under your eyes, your flushed cheeks, your expression when you were mad, the way your tits moved in your shirt with your dramatic movements, the way your thighs squished as you sat on them, yeah, she wasn't listening a goddamn bit. She would've felt bad, but as she looked at the premium eye candy in front of her that was her roomie, she really couldn't find any remorse for her actions.

Once she got a fill of secretly checking you out, she looked up into your eyes for the first time since she entered the room. You were still babbling about your insignificant ex-boyfriend when finally focused, so she decided to cut you off, wanting to know why you were so upset exactly. "What's the big deal? Weren't you just telling me how you wanted to break up with him last week?" She questioned, tipping her head to the side.

"Yuki that's what I've been saying. That's the problem." You said, placing your hands on her shoulders and shaking them, making her angle her body to face you. "He was all 'I'm so sorry I have to do this- It's not you, it's me, bla bla~,' acting like I actually give a fuck!!" You yelled, your face full of anger. "Acting so high and mighty like it's my loss," You scoffed before you continued, "Idiot never even made me cum. Shoulda yelled that in the middle of the cafe... tsk."

Your gaze was fixed on the wall behind Yuki as you cursed your ex out over and over in your head, replaying what had happened just an hour ago. Every muscle in Yuki's body went taught at that last thing you had said. He what? "Hah?" She responded, her expression surprised. You averted your gaze from the wall and looked back at her, smiling in anger. "Right?! Together for a year, and he never once figured out how to make me cum." You said angrily, huffing.

"I swear I could be a professional orgasm-faker." You tsked, sitting back on your heels as you dropped your hands from Yuki's shoulders, distancing yourselves a bit. "He never found out." You said spitefully, your lip curled in disdain.

Yuki's face felt hot, in fact, her whole body felt hot. She couldn't pinpoint what she was feeling. Anger? Jealousy? All she knew was she couldn't believe your ex had managed to bag someone as magnificent and perfect as you, and they didn't even know how to treat you right. She could feel her own lip curling in disdain, she wanted to find the man who selfishly used you for his own pleasure and knock him senseless.

Yuki has been fawning over you secretly since the day you moved in together 2 years ago. She liked to think she made it quite obvious too. Always complimenting you, 'accidentally' walking in on you changing, purposefully turning the music down in her headphones so she could listen to someone who wasn't her, fuck you into your sheets. She dried your hair in front of the TV after your showers, held you when you couldn't sleep- and after all this time you hadn't caught on.

Maybe it was partly Yuki's fault, she always did joke around with you a lot, hiding her true feelings with smiles and teasing disguised as jokes just in case you found out and didn't feel the same, or worse, hated her. She didn't think she was one to care so much, but she overly cared when it came to anything involving you. She was a woman whipped.

"How did he not notice? Is he incompetent?" Yuki spat, her anger showing with her words. You laughed at her words, "Hah! Probably, or maybe I'm just that good of an actor. Y'know, after 20 times of teaching him where the clit was, I gave up. Shit is so fucking exhausting." You sighed, rubbing your hand over your face. Yuki's blood was very much still boiling, but she blushed at the thought of you teaching her how to touch you instead of him, at least she would actually do it right. She would make you feel so good. Unlike your ex, she knew how to listen.

"Has anyone made you cum before?" She asked curiously, keeping her expression almost unreadable save for the animosity in her tone and her raised eyebrows. You licked your lips before dropping your hand from your face and looking at her. Her heart dropped in her stomach when you shook your head no.

"You poor thing." She said quietly, making your heart swell. Your face grew hot at her words. You don't know what you expected her to say, but it wasn't that. "I know, I just wish I could find someone who could fuck me right." You sighed, flopping lifelessly back agaisnt your sheets, your body sprawling out against them.

Yuki could hear her heartbeat vividly in her hears, it was the only thing she could hear. This was her chance, you had set her next words up for her there was no other perfect moment than right now. Running her soft hand up your thigh she smiled when you twitched under her at the unexpected feeling, staying still otherwise.

"You want someone to fuck you properly?" She repeated, making sure she didn't imagine you saying those words. You nodded, pouting at the ceiling as you replayed today's events over in your head for the nth. "Are you okay with girls?" Yuki asked, licking her lips as her eyes followed her fingers rubbing over your shin, inching closer and closer to your knee before they caressed back down.

You two had talked about everything under the sun, but somehow, this had never been brought up. In your direction at least. You knew Yuki liked girls, but the fact that you did too never came into conversation strangely enough. "Yeah, I'm bisexual. I've never been with a girl before like that but... honestly, I might have better luck in the bedroom department if I go that direction." You said, pursing your lips in thought.

"What about me, are you okay with me?" She asked, her hand breaching over your knee, teasing the skin just above it as she leaned closer to you. You froze as her words came together in your head. Was she serious? You could never tell when it came to her. She had joked about sleeping with you many times before but... she didn't seem like she was joking right now.

"H-how so?" You asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You felt a your heartbeat between your legs once the implication of her words were realized. "I'm saying I can fuck you, and make you cum." She said nonchalantly, licking her lips. "If that sounds alright with you."

Truthfully, you had always had a thing for Yuki but you, much like her, were too scared to actually confess. Each time she teased you, you replayed her words over in your head like a mantra. Her small touches made your skin feel like it was set on fire even hours later. You thought of her while you touched yourself, closing your eyes hard as you tried to picture Yuki's fingers inside of you instead of your own.

You deflected her teasing every time, shoving off her touch or tsking at her words as you took them all at face value, not wanting to give yourself a false sense of hope. She's the reason you were always in relationships. You tried to distract and busy yourself with anyone who would show you attention, waiting for your feelings to dissipate, only they never did. Even as you lay in bed with someone else, the only thing you thought of was her.

"S-stop messing around." You said, quickly averting your eyes when you realized you'd been looking at her. Her fingers digging into your mid-thigh made you fight to keep your legs open, the heartbeat between them increasing. "Who said I'm messing around, hm?" She said, leaning over you so she had a clear view of your face. When did she get so close?

"I'm good with my mouth and fingers, but I have a strap too if you prefer." The way she was speaking so nonchalantly made you hot in the face. Your hands shot up without your permission to press over her mouth, stopping her from speaking anymore. "Y-yuki please, I don't know how to tell if you're joking." You said, your face scrunching in embarrassment.

Her expression softened to one that looked fed up. Her eyebrows returned to a lower place on her face, her eyes looking at you like you were dumb. Her hands wrapped around your wrist and pulled them off of your mouth, pinning them by your sides as she crawled on top of you, straddling your waist. Before you could protest, her lips were on yours.

Yuki was kissing you, she was really kissing you and it felt so good. Her lips were soft as she massaged your own with them. You didn't even have the time to process her actions before she pulled away and looked at you, her eyebrows raised in question, "Do you still think I'm joking?" You could now feel your heartbeat in several places throughout your body, and they all echoed in your ears and made you deaf to all other sounds around you.

You pressed your thighs together and leaned your head up to close the distance again, pressing your lips to hers. Yuki's breath tickled your nose as she laughed shortly, kissing you back. You moaned in surprise against her lips when she pried your legs open with her thighs and made your legs go over her own, wrapping around her waist.

You'd never seen her bring anyone home in your 2 years spent living with her, and she never talked about her endeavors with other people either, unlike you. So you really had no idea what to expect in terms of her experience, but with the way she was talking and moving, you guessed she must've had at least some idea of what she was doing.

You wrapped your legs tighter around her waist, trying to press her against you to give yourself some friction. It seemed like she caught on because she pressed a knee against your clothed cunt, hard enough so she could feel you throb agaisnt her, even through your layers of clothes. You moaned against her lips, your hips jutting up against her at the incredible pressure.

"That feels good right?" She whispered against your lips, "When I press against your clit like that." God, you felt like melting. Only ten seconds into this and her dirty talk already far surpassed anyone you'd ever been with. You cracked your eyes open and nodded, continuing to kiss her. Her golden eyes were slightly peeled open as well and staring straight into yours. "Just wait till I use my mouth." She giggled, rubbing her knee in circles against you.

You moaned against her lips, your legs slipping from her waist the more she touched you. You weren't the only one who was throbbing, Yuki needed to get some of her own relief soon or she was going to explode. "You wanna touch me?" She asked, pulling away from the kiss. You felt her hot breath tickle your lips from the proximity of her face still, making you swallow hard.

You wanted to, so bad, but you had no idea where to start. "Don't worry, I'll teach you." She added, reading your mind. You nodded, letting her move you how she needed to. You made your arm follow hers as she unpinned one of them and flipped your hand up, facing the ceiling as she dragged it between your bodies. She kept her eyes on yours as your own followed where her hand was taking you.

You made a small sound when she pressed your palm against her pussy, cupping her over her sweats. "Right here." She said, trying to keep her voice steady. She grabbed your pointer and index finger and pressed them against what you assumed was her clit, if the gasp she gave was any indication. You watched with an aroused face as she helped you touch her. "Just rub them right there, exactly how you would touch yourself." She instructed, her eyes leaving yours as she looked between the two of you.

She sucked a breath in through her teeth when you curled your fingers up, rubbing agaisnt her clit. It was hard to tell what you were touching through her clothes, but that's where her voice came in. She was walking you through the whole thing, making it so you had absolutely nothing to have anxieties about. "Fuck..." She gasped, pressing her lips together.

The sounds leaving her lips were making a pool of your arousal seep into your panties. She was so hot like this, her face all blissed out. She retracted her knee and released your hand, bringing it between your own legs. She found your clit with ease, making you gasp alongside her. Your fingers stuttered agaisnt her when she made contact with you, her fingers drawing little circles against your clit through your pants. "Yu-ki." You moaned, looking at her for guidance.

"You're doing so good." She praised, nodding her head at you. You nodded back, your body jerking and eyes fluttering when she pressed hard agaisnt your clit. "Fuck, I can't take this. I need to touch you directly." She groaned, sitting back. Your hand she had pinned down was released, but you kept it there, frozen in place.

You watched in awe as she crossed her arms over her body and took off her shirt, throwing it in some random direction. Her breasts threatened to spill from her apparently too-tight bra, it made your mouth water. Sure, Yuki had walked around in her underwear plenty of times, but you always looked away. Her body made you feel hot in places you didn't think you should feel hot in, but now, her body was yours to look at all you wanted.

"My eyes are up here." She giggled as she slid off her sweats and boxers alike, leaving her bottom half completely bare. You darted your eyes down briefly before they shot back up, too nervous to stare at her pussy directly. She smiled at that, watching you turn your head to the side against the sheets. Yuki leaned over you once more, trapping your smaller body underneath hers, her hands by your head.

"You can look at my tits but not my pussy? Hmm?" She teased, tilting her head at you, trying to get you to look at her. "Would you rather touch it?" She asked, finally getting your attention. She'd never seen you so coy and embarrassed, she couldn't help but think how cute you looked. This time of your own volition, you nodded before reaching your hand down between her legs and pressing them against her.

You watched her face intently. Her eyes fluttered when you touched her clit, and she hissed through her teeth when you ran your fingers through her folds. She was so wet and warm, even more so than yourself, you thought. "Fuck." She gripped your wrist and pulled it off of her before she grabbed under your arms and made you sit up, sitting back on her heels. "It's not fair you're the only one undressed." She said.

"Up." Came her command to raise your arms so she could remove your shirt. She paused to stare at your tits, a perverted expression appearing on her face. "Heh, cute tits." She said bluntly, making you look away in embarrassment as she worked on getting your bottom half bare like you. "Now we're even." She said, smiling as she admired your body.

She bit her lip shamelessly staring at your pussy, her head cocking to the side to get a better look. "D-dont stare at it." You said, covering your face. Yuki spread your legs, pushing your body in on itself as she held you by your ankles, your cunt on full display for her. "Why not? You have such a cute pussy." She smirked. "Look she's twitching for me and everything, how adorable." You were forced to grip the sheets by your body as Yuki manhandled you, ogling you as she wished.

Before you could protest about her shameless staring anymore, she was leaning down towards your pussy, making your heart stop in your chest. You felt her tongue abruptly lick along the length of your pussy before she pulled back to swallow your essence greedily. "Fuck, wanted to taste this pussy for so long." She mumbled to herself before she dove back in. You moaned dramatically when Yuki's plush lips sucked your clit into her mouth, your hands shooting down to grip her hair.

"Mmmm..." She moaned against you, shaking her head back and forth as she flicked her tongue agaisnt your stiff bud. "Fuck! Yuki!" You moaned, your head falling back against the sheets, shaking from side to side at the intensity of pleasure you felt. "Feels good getting your pussy properly ate hm?" She asked, her tone coming out teasing and confident. You nodded, your moans choked as they left your mouth, "S-so good, your tongue feels so good-" You cried.

"Told you I'm good with my mouth." She smirked before she dove back in, running her tongue over your folds. Her pussy was dripping at this point, making a mess of the sheets as she humped against nothing, trying to relieve herself. She adjusted her position, placing your legs over her shoulders as she laid down on the bed, her stomach pressed against the sheets. You were confused about the change in position but your questions were promptly answered when you felt two of her slender fingers prod at your entrance, making your eyes shoot open in surprise.

She faced little resistance as she penetrated you, immediately curling them against your g-spot, making you see stars. It was at the exact moment she sucked your clit back into her mouth that you felt your orgasm build out of nowhere, threatening to spill at any second. You pressed your thighs around her head tighter, your hips jerking against her face as your body prepared itself to cum.

Your fingers raking against her scalp made her moan against you, her legs crossing as she humped against the bed, using her thighs for relief. "C-cumming fu-ck Yuki I'm-" You barely got the words out to warn her before you were spasming all over her tongue and fingers. She moaned against you as she worked you through it, her fingers assaulting your sweet spot as she helped you cum.

Her tongue greedily lapped up all the juices that spilled out of you as you rode your orgasm out on her tongue as she shook her head. You were twitching agaisnt the sheets when she pulled back, sliding her fingers out of you slowly. You laid there shocked, you have never in your life cum so hard, so fast. "Such a good girl, how do you feel?" She asked, crawling up your body so her legs were between yours, her face hovering over you.

You nodded, still blissed out. "You're really good at that." You praised, making her giggle. "So I've been told." She responded, making you pause. That's the first time she'd ever said anything insinuating she'd done something like this with other people. You figured, but it still felt strange to hear. Maybe not strange, more like, you felt jealous. Had her other partners had more experience than you? Could they make her feel better? Did she like them more than you?

Your thoughts were stopped in their tracks by her lips against yours. You scrunched your eyebrows together, surprised by the kiss. "What are you thinking about, hm?" She said, tucking your stray hairs behind your ear. "Don't think about anything other than me. You might make me jealous." She smirked, kissing you again. In that instant, you forgot all of your negative thoughts and worries as they were washed away by her lips.

"I... I want to touch you too." You whispered, pulling back from her lips. Your arms tightened from their place around her neck. A visible blush spread across her face at your honest words. She smirked before she wrapped her arms around your body and picked you up with ease, flipping your positions so she was on the bottom now, you straddling her waist.

"Have at me~" She said, spreading her legs under you. Now that you were actually faced with touching her, you were nervous, but you were determined to make Yuki cum just like she had. Her hand caressed the side of your face before she slid it to the nape of your neck and pulled you down to her, making you almost chest to chest if not for your arms caging around her.

"I don't just let anyone touch me y'know. Better make good use of your time." She said cockily, pressing your head against her breasts. You hoped she was sensitive there, you wanted so badly to see her squirm from getting her nipples sucked. You wasted no time in reaching behind her and undoing her bra, with a little struggle which of course did not go unnoticed by Yuki, who had to tease you about it.

Once the clasps snapped free, you slid the straps off her arms and were faced with her large breasts, lying right in front of you. You swallowed hard as you stared at them, they looked so soft, and her nipples were already hard, and a pretty shade of pink. Yuki had never felt so self-conscious before. It was rare that she let her partners please her to this extent. She preferred to be quite dominant in the bedroom so this was taking some getting used to.

"Hurry." She said, her face void of all humor and snarkiness, now replaced with raw arousal and need. You mimicked her actions earlier and pressed a knee between her legs, making her gasp as he pussy came into contact with the skin of your knee. You leaned forward and kissed her breasts teasingly before you found her nipple with your lips and suckled around it.

You earned a muffled sound of pleasure from Yuki, making you feel your own arousal start to pool between your legs once more. You whined around her nipple when she started humping your thigh, her wet cunt leaving a trail of her slick where she rubbed agaisnt you. Your other hand grabbed her tit, as much as could fit in your hand, and massaged the soft fat. "Suck harder." She instructed, her words coming out strained as she struggled to hold her voice back.

You obliged, sucking harder around her nipple, your other hand tweaking her right nipple between your fingers. You noticed her breathing pick up the longer you went on, even more so when you alternated between her tits, taking the neglected one into your mouth, your other hand pinching the nipple you sucked already.

Yuki's sounds started becoming more desperate and loud as you bit and sucked her sensitive breasts. Her moans were always cut short, most of her sounds being loud sighs and intakes of breath. She had been steadily grinding her cunt against your thigh for a few minutes now, her hips jerking each time you bit down on her clit. "Shit- shit-"

Her face relaxed and her legs started to shake as she came, her mouth dropping in a small o. Her nails scratched the skin of your back harshly as her body jerked against yours with the spasms of her high. You were caught off guard when she came from the lack of warning, but when you picked up on it, you did your best to make her feel as good as possible, pressing your knee harder against her as you played with her tits.

"A-alright alright fuck, ease up." She gasped, trying to sound nonchalant when she came down from her high and you continued to pleasure her. You pulled your knee back and popped off of her nipple with a sloppy wet sound after you realized she had come down. Looking up at her, you noticed her flushed face and lidded eyes as she smirked at you, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

"My nipples are so wet now, thanks to you." She teased, looking down at her chest, covered in your saliva and bite marks. You looked away when you realized the damage you had done. "S-sorry, I got a bit carried away." You apologized, averting your eyes. Yuki pulled your face down to meet hers as she kissed you sloppily, full of teeth and tongue. "I'll forgive you if you cum all over my cock." She smirked, biting her lip. The use of that word to describe her strap made you feel hot between your thighs.

You nodded, your breathing picking up at the prospect of her making you cum again. "Good girl." She praised, "Now get off me 'n get comfortable while I go get my strap, kay?" She asked, sliding out from under you as you rolled off of her and sat on the bed. You nodded, but you didn't really know how to do that. 'Get comfortable?' what position should you even get in?

You opted to just lay on your side and curl up as you faced the door, waiting for her to emerge again. When she did, your jaw almost dropped. Yuki walked in wearing a black harness that wrapped snugly around her thighs and hips, and in the center where her pussy was before, a bright pink cock now sat. Yuki was stroking it as she walked in, smearing the lube over it.

Her eyes raised unexpectedly at your position. "Did I not tell you to get comfortable?" She asked, continuing to stoke the silicone cock, making your mouth water. "I didn't know how you wanted me." You said honestly, moving so you were now sat on your knees on the edge of the bed as she stalked you slowly, walking up to where you sat.

You kept your eyes on hers when she came chest-to-chest with you, smirking. "You're such a good girl aren't you?" She cooed, grabbing your chin with her free hand. "Always want to please me, huh?" You felt like your heart was in your throat, you swallowed hard, trying to make the lump go away as she praised you, making your face feel hot as you nodded at her words.

"I wanna fuck you from the back. Think you'll feel me deeper that way." She said, dropping your chin. You nodded before you scooted back, centering yourself more in the middle of the bed as you laid your front half down and kept your ass in the air, pussy on display for her as you arched your back sensually. You could feel yourself throb and clench around nothing when she whistled, walking around the end of the bed so she was staring at your dripping pussy before she crawled on top.

Her warm hands gripping your hips made you tense before you relaxed, every ounce of your being on edge for what was about to happen. Yuki smiled as she watched you wriggle your hips back against her unknowingly. A gasp left your lips when she spread your folds apart with her thumb and tapped the head of the cock against your tight little hole teasingly.

"Fuck, I don't know if I'm gonna fit." she laughed, rubbing the cockhead against your entrance. "Ur' hole is so small." She pulled your folds apart further, trying to see if you would open up for her. "I can take it, Yuki." You said, worried she wouldn't go through with this if she thought it might hurt you. The use of her name after such a statement made her pussy drip, she was so glad she had cum before this or she would've been aching right now.

"You think so, baby? Think you can take my fat cock?" She teased, pressing the head against your entrance. "Yes Yuki, please, please give it to me, s-stop teasing." You begged, trying to push your hips back against hers to make her strap slip in. "I don't know... It might be a tight fit. What if it's too much for you?" She cooed, pouting in faux worry as she worked you up even more.

You gasped each time she thrust the tip against you, almost penetrating you but not quite. Your whines sounded like cried as you continued begging her, rubbing your thighs together as you did so, she almost felt bad. "Okay you crybaby, only because you got dumped today and I'm feeling generous." She teased. If you were in a righter mind you would've shot back with something snarky but all of the air was stolen from your lungs when Yuki breached your tight entrance with her cock.

You whined her name as she slowly slid the length of her cock inside you, one tantalizing inch at a time. "Shit you really are taking it, good fucking girl." She cooed, her eyebrows raising as she stared intently at your tight hole sucking in her cock. "H-hahhh- S-so big-" You choked, gripping onto the sheets for dear life. A loud moan was ripped from between your lips when she thrust the entirety of her cock inside you, the hard tip poking right against your g-spot, making you see stars in your vision.

"Yuki- f-fuck, fuck me, f-fuck me." You begged, the same whines and cries shes heard a thousand times in this very room. Only this time, her name was replaced with whatever shitty guy you had over, and fuck did it feel good. She started up a harsh pace, her hips making the fat of your ass ripple each time she fucked the cock inside you. "Yeah? You like that? You like my cock fucking so deep inside you?" She grit through her teeth, pursing her lips as she spoke.

You were already losing your mind, babbling incessant praises and broken cries of her name. "Oh fuck, you already go dumb on my dick? Heh, you like it that much?" Each time she referred to her strap as her dick it made your head feel fuzzy. "God I can barely move, you're squeezing me so tight. Wish I could feel you, fuck." She groaned, biting her lips as she fucked into you harder, placing one of her feet on the mattress for leverage as she drilled your poor cunt.

"Ah- ah- ah- ah-" Each time her hips smacked against yours vulgarly, a lewd sound was forced from between your lips, making your eyes flutter back in your head from the intensity of her thrusts. "Ah- ah- ahhahah, you're so fucked out pretty girl, makin' the cutest sounds for me." Yuki groaned, mimicking your moans in a high-pitched, whiny voice.

Her arm wrapped under your hip as she leaned over you slightly, her fingers finding your clit with ease. Your hand shot down to grab her wrist when she started rubbing quick circles over the hard bud quickly, feeling your orgasm start to build up already. "N-no-" You tried to cry, your protest getting cut short.

She mimicked you using a condescending voice, "No? No? You gonna cum? Is that why you want me to stop?" She moaned, leaning her body over yours completely, her weight being pressed agaisnt your back as she kept fucking harshly into your pussy, making loud squelching noises echo through the room. You nodded, your head turning to the side as you tried to look at her, your teary eyes finding hers.

With her other hand, she wiped your tears away before placing the thumb in her mouth, licking them off. "You wanna make me happy, right? Wanna be a good girl for me?" She cooed, nodding at her own words. You cried hard, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the cockhead rubbed that special spot deep inside you. You nodded nonetheless, you wanted to be good for her, wanted to be the best she'd ever had.

"I know you do." She nodded, smirking at you, "So you're gonna cum all over my dick right now, yeah? Gonna make a mess?" She teased, feeling her arousal increase at her own words. God she really wished she had a dick right now, what she wouldn't give to fuck you full of her cum, or better yet, mess your teary eyes face up with her seed as she stroked herself off over you, your pink tongue out as you awaited her cum like her good little cumslut.

Your body writhed against her as you nodded, unable to form words any longer. She knew you were close because she could barely move inside you, you were squeezing the strap so fucking tight, and your eyes had rolled back in your head, and your jaw dropped open in a silent scream. "I got you baby, cum for me, cum all over my cock I got you." She cooed, working you through it before you felt the dam break.

"That's ittt- such a good fucking girl ohmygodd..." Yuki cooed as she leaned back, wanting to get a good view of the main event as your juices sprayed out around her cock, making a mess on her fingers and the bedsheets below as she continued to work you through your orgasm, her cock and fingers working in tandem to make you cum as hard as possible. Your body jerked uncontrollably as you came, your thighs shaking with such intensity as you squirted all over her, cumming for the second time in less than an hour.

Yuki slowly pulled out when your orgasm subsided, letting your body fall limp against the sheets as you crossed your legs and twitched in the aftershocks. Yuki smiled as your face scrunched in pleasure, eyes shut as you relaxed while she worked on undoing the strap so she could comfort you without a fake cock stabbing you in the back. Slipping her legs out of the holes she threw it to the ground and chased your body, wrapping around you from behind.

You were starting to gain some of your brainpower back, and her body cradling yours while her tits squished agaisnt your back only realaxed you further. "You did so well." She pressed a kiss to the back of your head as she spoke, squeezing your body tightly, her hands resting right under your tits. "How do you feel? Does it hurt anywhere?" She asked, pressing a line of kisses from your neck to your shoulders, her fingers tickling the skin of your tummy.

"N-no..." You lied, ignoring the soreness you felt in your cunt. It wasn't bad enough to bother her with anyways, you didn't want to worry her for no reason. "Good." She said, kissing the back of your head once more before she buried her head into your neck and stayed silent for an uncharacteristic amount of time. "Are you-"

"I really like you," Yuki whispered, cutting you off.

"I know."

"Is that okay?"

"It's more than okay."

"Can I just keep holding you like this?"

You turned over in her arms, pressing a kiss to her lips, your legs entangling with hers. "Please. Don't let me go."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuki tsukomo #yuki jjk #jujutsu kaisen yuki #yuki smut #yuki tsukumo #tsukumo yuki #wlw ns/fw #wlw yearning #wlw smut #wlw love #wlw nsft

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mistymysticalmoon · 2 months ago

Text

Soft kisses, Safe arms

･ jude bellingham x reader ･

prompt: (fluff) after a fun night out with friends, you head home to your boyfriend Jude, whose caring, gentle presence is the perfect contrast to the lively nightclub.

warnings: drinking, a bit suggestive

wc: 1.5k

a/n: leave me requests! masterlist

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The sounds of the nightclub were all-consuming.

Music, laughter, and singing overwhelmed your senses, and the alcohol coursing through your body was no help. You’d gone out for a night of fun with your girls and it was now almost 2 in the morning.

A familiar pounding surfaced as you started to feel a headache coming on, but as you glanced over to the dance floor, you saw your friends awake as ever dancing with each other and random men they must have picked up at the bar.

You giggle, shaking your head at their antics.

As you take another sip of your drink you feel a buzz in your purse. You pull it out and open your messages to see your favorite contact flash on your screen, as he had been periodically checking up on you throughout the night.

Jude🤍: Hey baby, having fun?

You twirl a strand of your hair giggling like a schoolgirl at such a basic question, the alcohol making you giddier than usual.

You: Hiiiiii babyy!!!

I misss yoiuuuu

Jude🤍: Missing you too love ❤️

You: I’m comimg hime soon I camt wait to kiss yiu xx

Jude🤍: I can’t wait either baby, be safe.

You smile excitedly, hearting the message, and place your phone back in your purse. Jude was never bothersome or controlling when it came to you hanging out with your girls, something you weren’t used to due to some unhealthy relationships of the past.

He was very secure in himself and your relationship seeing as neither of you had given each other any reason not to trust one another.

That and the fact that you were both embarrassingly head over heels in love.

“Oh my goddd he totally wanted to hook up with you” you hear behind you whipping your head to see your girlfriends laughing and stumbling back to the table you had been standing by.

“Well I hate to burst his bubble but there’s no way in hell” You giggle along not even fully understanding the story but enjoying the moment nonetheless.

“I love you guysss” one of your friends exclaims lovingly causing all of you to burst out into laughter but still returning the sentiment.

“Okay, I’m already feeling the beginning of my hangover. I think I'm calling it a night guys” you express getting a groan from your friends.

“What you reallyy mean is you’re starting to miss your boyfriend and want to fu-” “Oh my god shut up” you cut off laughing awkwardly causing everyone else to join in on the teasing and banter.

“We're just teasing babes I think we all need to call it a night.” one of your friends assures checking the time to see that it is well past safe hours for a group of girls at night.

You all decide to get two taxis, splitting up based on where you live, saying your goodbyes, and heading home. The whole ride back to Jude’s apartment your thoughts are consumed by his everything. You imagine his hands on your body, his lips leaving marks on your skin. You feel slightly embarrassed that he can have such an effect on you while not being anywhere in your vicinity.

You: Hii Judeee Im comibg home niww

You bite your lip thinking about all you want to do to him once you get inside his apartment, clenching your thighs at the mere thought.

A couple of minutes later you feel a buzz in your lap

Jude🤍: Okay baby, I’ll be waiting. xo

You:❤️❤️

As you sent your last message you feel the taxi coming to a stop. You thank the driver and bid your friends goodbye stumbling out of the car and towards the lobby of the apartment. As you push through the revolving doors you look up to see the very face you were just fantasizing about.

“Judee” you exclaim rushing up and embracing him. “Hii baby” he chuckles pulling you into a tighter embrace. You look up at him lovingly and pull him in for a quick kiss.

“Come on, let's get you upstairs,” he gently suggests. You quietly nod allowing him to lead you over to the elevator and up to his floor.

The whole way there your hand stays in his , holding your body as close to his as you possible . He hadn't yet caught on to your intentions, attributing your cuddliness to the multiple drinks flowing through your system.

As you made it through the door he closed it shut behind him letting go of your hand to ensure it was locked properly. As he did, you slipped off your coat tossing it on a chair across the room.

Once he turned around you stalked up to him, softly pressing your lips against his in a seemingly innocent kiss.

“Mmm,” he moaned into your mouth, “Missed you baby” His hands found their place on your waist softly caressing your body.

You kissed him deeper, hoping he would get what you wanted without you having to explicitly ask for it. “Baby” he groaned, slowly pulling away from you.

“Judee” you whined, desperation and need overwhelming you.

“Baby.. we can’t,” he says resting his forehead against yours.

“Why not” you pout, looking up at him with a look you know he can't resist. “Fuck, baby you're killing me” he murmurs shaking his head.

“Please, Jude, please I want you,” you whined running your hands along his chest. You reach up and kiss his neck, one of his weaknesses. He groaned at this but restrained himself from giving in.

“I’m sorry baby, but tomorrow we can do it all. You’re drunk and you need to rest, okay?” he reasons holding your face softly in his calussed palms. You let out a soft groan hanging your head low accepting that your boyfriend was just too caring and loving to take advantage of your drunken state.

“Okay..” you surrender, feeling a bit embarrassed of how needy you were being.

Jude lifts your face to look you in the eyes, smiling lovingly at you and leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come on, let's get ready for bed and you can tell me all about tonight.” You nod in acceptance letting him lead you to the bedroom, your hand in his.

He sits you down at the edge of the bed as he helps you get changed. He starts with your shoes and then moves on to your clothes removing your skirt and softly pulling your shirt over your head leaving you in just your undergarments.

You felt a shy heat rush to your cheeks, feeling his eyes on your half-naked form, blushing even though he’s seen you in much less.

He sends you a cheeky grin before walking over to the dresser, pulling out one of his old jerseys that you loved to sleep in whenever you were over his apartment. He carefully pulls it over your head successfully getting you changed. He then leads you to the bathroom to help you brush your teeth and remove your makeup.

As he props you up on the counter you watch his careful and attentive movements. So sure in himself as he had seen you do this routine hundreds of times.

“Okay baby, stay still for me” he instructs, wetting a cloth with warm water and makeup remover.

“Mmm,” you hum in response.

You close your eyes and he begins to softly drag the warm cloth along your face removing the makeup as best he can, knowing you're too tired to properly wash your face. You open your eyes to see his brows furrowed in concentration, smiling at how attentive and cute he’s being.

“You're so pretty” you blurt out. He looks at you with a bit of surprise but laughs nonetheless.

“You’re so pretty, baby” he retorts. “You're prettier” you argue teasingly.

“You're prettiest” he finishes off with a chaste kiss. You scrunch your nose at his playfulness as you watch him put the cloth in the wash bin and pull your moisturizer from the cabinet. He gently applies it to your face finishing up your skincare.

Once finished, Jude took you down from the counter and led you back to the bedroom. You get comfortable under the comforter as he turns the lights out joining you once he's finished.

“C’mere baby” he whispers. You snuggle up closer to him, his natural musk and aftershave invading your senses. You nuzzle your head impossibly close to his chest just wanting to feel his body close.

“Jude..” you whisper gazing up at him “Yes, baby” he replies. “I love you, so much. Thank you for taking care of me” you murmur, feeling a wave of emotions and gratitude for your boyfriend.

“Aww baby, I love you.” he coos, leaving a lingering kiss you on the forehead. “I'll always take care of my baby, you never have to thank me,” he assures, gently stroking your head.

You smile up at him seeing the pure love and adoration in his eyes, feeling so grateful that you have such a loving, beautiful, doting boyfriend.

You reach up to leave a kiss goodnight against his soft lips smiling into it. “Goodnight, my love.” he breathes against your lips. “Night, baby” you reply resting your head against his chest, letting your body relax under his caring and protective presence.

#jude bellingham x reader #football imagines #footballer x reader #football fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #hey jude #jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot

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cr4yolaas · 10 months ago

Text

second best (pt 2) — iwaizumi hajime

notes: at last, the heavily requested part 2 to this fic !! i really hope it met a lot of your guys’ standards — i tried my best to take as much of your requests into account ^_^ i rlly dislike m the flow of this … but hopefully u guys still enjoy LOL

tags: angst → (bittersweet?) fluff, depressive episode (reader), swearing (once), a longgg process of grief and healing and whatnot, alcoholism (only briefly), roommate! tsukishima, best friend! oikawa, tsukishima does NOT have feelings for you, not proofread and quite long

taglist (incl. everyone who asked for a pt 2 !!): @altumsomnum @gennaray @romanticandupsetting @multi-fandom-fanfic

it was tuesday.

a frigid air pierced your limbs and left you to rot away, with the windows shut tight and the door locked. there was no mistakening the dark bags hanging beneath your eyes or the flakes of skin peeling from your bottom lip, nor the soft pleas of your stomach or the iciness of your fingertips. you basked in eternal slumber and silence and darkness and whatnot, save for the ticks of a clock that was 14 minutes behind and the hum of the air conditioning.

you were not frightened in the slightest. the warning signs plastered on your flesh were no great concern, and you could not fathom the idea of having to function again. it was horribly consuming.

with a groan, you released yourself from bed, your legs trembling under the mere weight of the air. you avoided the collections of trash and clothes splayed across the floor, being careful not to disturb the peace that had formed over the past handful of weeks. the sight of the kitchen was much more refreshing.

you were locked in stasis. contrary to the comfort these walls once provided, they now served as a a form of imprisonment, designed to allow the grief and the sorrow and the anger and the guilt to coalesce and spill over. it was terribly suffocating — you wished to escape.

gently, you poured a cup of water (not that you drank more than a sip, anyways). a thought passed your mind.

you needed to leave.

sendai was a home you could not find solace in anymore. gone was the youth encapsulated in the mountaintops and the hidden pathways and the convenience stores, and no longer could you feel at ease when faced with the neighborhoods you familiarized yourself with as a child.

your new apartment was shared with an old face — one you had only seen glances of in high school, notorious for his glasses and upfront attitude. he bore no hesitance when taking you in. instead, he was grateful for your presence, as if splitting the rent with him had taken off his life’s burden off of his shoulders.

he was quick to set ground rules — laundry days were on saturdays, trash needed to be taken out on sundays, the dish washer had to be clear at the end of the day, all groceries were shared, so on and so forth. you weren’t sure if you could keep up.

it took one week for him to actually conversate.

“why did you come back here?” he questioned, with a tone that implied he knew of you for years upon years (which would be false).

you picked at the skin of your lip. “why do you ask?”

“no reason. just curious.”

in a burst of energy, you recounted the tales of your past life, one of love and youth and joy; of the old apartment, of your past hobbies, of hajime. his gaze was so distant that you weren’t sure if he was listening at all.

in return, he expressed brief apologies and turned the story to himself — he discussed his volleyball career, his teammates, how he felt somewhat disconnected from his high school friends. he did not care to mention the exhaustion riddled into the pores on your face nor the weakness of your voice. that was all you needed. a conversation, not comfort.

only an hour later did he remind you of his name — tsukishima kei — and it was only then that you realized you had moved into an apartment without taking any precautions whatsoever. he laughed when you informed him of the situation.

this was not yet a home, but it was a house. and that was sufficient.

a month had passed before tsukishima forced you to get a job. he was clearly not a fool — at some point (you couldn’t tell when), he realized you were paying off your share of the rent with your life savings, which irked him ever so slightly.

“do you plan on moving out and dying on the streets when you run out?” he complained, despite the concern laced in the fluctuations of his voice.

you began working at his former high school coach’s family store. the owner himself was welcoming — he didn’t question your circumstances nor your physical state, and merely mentioned in passing that he was “given a token of appreciation from a prized student.”

and so began the cycle. on weekday mornings, you would depart for work and tsukishima would leave for practice. occasionally, he would pack you lunch (“only because i had leftovers,” he’d say) or leave a can of coffee on the counter for you. you would work at the register until the amalgamation of students died down, and once you were left with an empty store, you would take a break and go on a walk (as requested by your boss). then, you would return in the afternoon to serve the same population of children, handing them their ice cream and their sandwiches and whatnot. when they all disappeared, the coach would let you free and dismiss you with a “good work today, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

returning home was your favorite part of the schedule. a majority of the time, tsukishima arrived later than you, leaving you to your own time until he came home with dinner and a drink.

it was a monotonous cycle, but enjoyable nonetheless.

“i’m cutting off the beer for a month,” tsukishima exclaimed one warm summer night. you left your room to see him collecting unopened bottles and discarding them in a trash bag with little regard. you could only frown.

“those are all going to waste, we haven’t even opened them,” you groaned.

there was no response from the man as he continued to clear the apartment of any alcohol, akin to a parent cleansing their child’s home. before you could protest any further, he shut the door behind him and the crashing of bottles against one another could be heard beside the building.

tsukishima re-entered the apartment with empty hands and furrowed brows. “what’s up with the shitty face?” you asked from the couch.

he clicked his tongue at your comment and bore no response, instead letting his eyes wander to the screen in front of you. the morning news was playing, as usual. and yet, it was so wrong.

the screen flashed to a familiar face, one clad with a slight grin and sweat spread over his skin. his hair had grown slightly and his complexion had darkened, evidence of his labor. but most of all, he looked happy. his eyes screamed with a passion you hadn’t seen before, and despite his haggard appearance, he seemed to be content.

you did not see tsukishima rushing to turn off the television. you did not see the screen turn black, and you did not hear the noise diminish. you did not see tsukishima’s face adjacent to yours.

“hey. let’s go outside,” he muttered before moving to pull you up and out of the house

a delicate breeze washed over you both. the sun began to kiss you goodbye, and the noon crept up in its wake, leaving both of you in the dark.

“he looked so happy,” you whispered. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.”

you watched tsukishima light a cigarette in your peripherals, his lighter evidently battered and marred from heavy use. he made no move to offer one to you. “you’re not doing anything wrong,” he spoke firmly, although you could tell he was struggling to formulate the right combination of words in his head. “he’s just… going along a different path.”

“it should’ve been us on the same path. i feel so stupid. he’s gone on to do such great things, and i… what am i doing?”

tsukishima didn’t push the conversation any further. you were grateful.

a week had passed before tsukishima told you he had gotten you a new job, one deeper in the city. on an early sunday morning, he presented a uniform and badge to you, your name imprinted on both. the effort made you smile.

at some point, a new cycle formed. the museum was a far cry from the run down family store, and tsukishima taught you how to welcome it with an open mind and open arms. he never did mention the exact reason for the new occupation, nor did he tell you why he was so adamant on enforcing routine in your life. nonetheless, you appreciated it.

the mundanity that your new job encapsulated was slightly more enjoyable than that of your former job. exploring the concrete rooms filled with statues and paintings and whatnot was a sufficient way to pass the time. every now and then, you’d catch your roommate detailing a specific sculpture to a curious visitor, the scene contrasting his typical behavior. not that you would ever mention it to him, though.

a new routine was not unwelcome, but it did not feel impactful anymore. you still burned blue in the night, your bones aching with reminiscence over a lost life. your hands and legs still knew tokyo; they still knew the morning commutes and the bustling cafés and the chirping crosswalks and your own home, one that had been so devastatingly haunted by grief. your heart still knew the morning calls and the evening texts and the handfuls upon handfuls of promises made on once solid territory, and yet, you knew to return to it was to betray yourself.

you missed iwaizumi hajime.

rather, you missed the life that you formulated in his presence, opposed to the shambles you had grown comfortable in now that you were back home. tsukishima had carved a clay pot for your worn soul, and yet you could not help but yearn for the comfort and stability and routine you established in a past life.

the soft padding of feet echoed outside your door. soft strings of light streamed under your door as your roommate entered the kitchen, his actions indiscernible as he maneuvered about carefully. you decided to step out to greet him.

a startled tsukishima turned around to face you. “what are you still doing up?” he interrogated, albeit not in offense. “it’s late. we have work tomorrow.”

“but i don’t want to go to work. i want to go home,” you protested. you felt childish all over again — the thirst for selfishness was one that could not escape you, even now. an overwhelming desire to be in control of your own life.

tsukishima furrowed his brows. “to tokyo?” you nodded. “okay… then let’s go to tokyo.” he paid no mind to the slanted smile that transformed your lips, instead opting to turn away and fill up his bottle. “but why?”

“i need to escape,” you sighed, as if releasing a burden that had been lingering for a moment too long. “i need change. i just- i feel so stuck. i need to live.”

he merely hummed in agreement before uttering a comment about your poor sleeping schedule and ushering you back to bed.

tokyo was a city of hopes and dreams and noise. the shift from sendai’s cicada lullabies and whispers in the wind to the incessant chatter and obnoxious roads of the city was significant — any pedestrian would notice the irritation on you and tsukishima’s faces.

the inn he picked was small, yet slightly more comfortable than your current abode. the owners were kind and your neighbors were quiet, save for the occasional drunk couple. it was a life you remembering living, but not one you yearned for any longer.

in the night, you would both visit various attractions and markets and restaurants, with tsukishima insisting on paying for your meals (“as thanks for getting a life,” he argued). for that handful of days, you bore a smile that you weren’t sure would grace your lips ever again, for there was an adolescence in the evening activities that mended the remnants of your spirit. you felt whole.

on the last day, you brought tsukishima to a ramen house nearby the inn and promised to pay for the meal. it was a tuesday, again.

for reasons you could not discover, that appeared to be one of the busiest nights for the establishment — moments after you had settled, a line began to form, and the tables were crowded with families and friend groups and dates alike.

amidst the composition of metropolitans stood a man you wished you didn’t have to see. as if it were punishment, he locked his eyes with yours, the shock in his complimenting your dread.

you watched as he excused himself from his group while ignoring the cheers and shouts about him “shooting his shot.” tsukishima observed in tandem, seemingly reading the situation from a distance despite sitting right across from you.

you noticed the bold athletic trainer embroidered onto his chest, and the fitted red shirt he wore that matched those of his team. beads of sweat compiled on his forehead — you weren’t sure if it was from the density of the room or his exhaustion or anxiety. a small part of you hoped it was the second option.

“hey,” he began. “can- can we speak outside?”

you could not help but oblige.

hajime seemed to have developed an obsession with fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you noticed the frayed strands on a spot that aligned perfectly with his hand, and you nearly laughed.

he coughed into his fist before rambling. “i’m sorry. i know you definitely don’t want to see me, and it’s not wrong of you at all to feel that way, but i just- i’ve thought about you- no, i think about you every day up until now. i know i don’t deserve you at all, and me being here is probably super upsetting, but-“

“hajime.”

the way you called his name seemed to deteriorate him and his principles. you finally felt otherwise.

“i really, really, didn’t want to see you at all. i don’t even want the thought of you to pass my mind. i’ve built a life outside of you and i’m tired of you interrupting it.” you witnessed his heart, mind, and body freeze simultaneously.

“i- i understand that, i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been- i’ve been reflecting a lot recently and i’ve known i was horribly in the wrong and i’m ashamed to have done nothing about it, and i know this sounds really, really dumb but i wish i had just stayed with you for that extra day because- because i don’t think i can go any longer without you now that i have you here, in front of me. could we- can we at least… keep in touch?” he seemed to speak without limitations, akin to a leaking clay pot. he was distressed, evidently. but you no longer saw his face and thought of guilt and love and yearning; you held no space for him.

you shook your head gently. “hajime, i don’t want you in my life anymore. you achieved your dreams, and i’m working on finding mine. that’s how it was meant to be.”

if not for the small lamp above the two of you, you would not have noticed the tears spilling onto his face. you bore no sympathy — with a goodbye and a small wave, you left him in the alley with a heavy heart and saline tears.

to witness him before you had awakened the truth riddled in your sinew and bloodstream: iwaizumi hajime was no longer a necessity. a truth that had cowered away beneath guilt and fragility and shame had uncovered itself, and for once, you breathed a full breath.

oikawa seemed so vibrant on the other side of your screen, the argentinian sun kissing his skin almost perfectly. “…i miss you lots!! i’ll visit soon, maybe, and we can catch up and maybe go get coffee and then debrief and then…” he trailed off with an aloof grin, his words spilling out from your phone and reverberating around the living room. tsukishima stood in the kitchen, the sound of his deliberate chopping and washing contesting oikawa’s voice. “but anyways, i’ll see you soon! byebye!!”

you waved goodbye and hung up, leaving only the noise of your roommate’s cooking. a loud groan left his lips in the midst of his mixing, followed by a complaint about how irritable your friend’s voice was. you could only laugh.

gentle strings of moonlight spilled into the apartment through the kitchen window, the songs of the evening falling upon both of you and your shared comfort. tomorrow was your off day, granting you both an opportunity for an actual meal. tsukishima (begrudgingly) agreed to make your favorite dish, with the request that you’d make his favorite dessert next week.

“thank you for the meal,” you whispered. tonight would consist of good food and a relaxing night, and tomorrow would entail a day of rest and a weekly reset, along with another call with oikawa. with marred hands and a porcelain heart, you had managed at last to craft a solid life — steady health, steady friends, and a steady routine.

you would no longer be second best to anything, and that was sufficient enough.

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bbokicidal · 4 months ago

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OT8 as 'First Encounters' | OT8 SKZ

Notes : The SKZ members as romance trope-type first encounters. It's hard to explain, but read and you'll see what I mean. (I'm actually super excited to write this.)

These are going to be short because they're just your first encounters - nothing more. But if you're interested in a part two for someone, let me know!

Warnings : None, just fluff. :) (Mildly suggestive content in Hyunjin's.) Genre : Fluff Pairing : SKZ OT8 (Individually) x Reader

Bangchan - Meeting in a cafe

You'd been there just to get your morning coffee when you'd crossed paths with a man you hadn't seen there before. Usually you were within ten minutes of each other when it came to popping in for your early morning drink but you'd never actually seen each other or knew the other existed. This morning however, you physically bumped into him when slipping past as your drink was called. He apologized, looking up from his phone to spare you a soft smile. His eyes trailed after you as you grabbed your drink, brushing by once more to leave the coffee shop. A simple meeting but memorable, for him at least.

Lee Know - Bumping into each other in class

Chemistry was, as of right now, the greatest of your burdens. But after accidentally bumping bags with a cute older boy you'd never really noticed before (and exchanging quick and shy glances to each other in silent apology), class didn't seem so awful every Thursday.

Not when you got to ogle him from your seat behind and kitty-corner to his own. Even though the view was three quarters the side of his head, he was still oh-so-pretty. (And oh-so-gay.)

Changbin - Meeting each other on the subway

Work was awful and the commute never softened the blow. Taking the subway was shit, as per usual, but there were some days - like today - where it wasn't as awful.

Standing in an all too-crammed car in a pair of heels and a tight pencil skirt you just had to wear for your stupid office job, a man sitting adjacent to you along the bench had taken notice of your stumbling sway and uncomfortable expression at the men beside and behind you. So he stood, offering you his seat in return, and with a thankful nod and smile, you take the offer up gratefully.

And ogle his arm when he lifts it to hold onto the handle where he now stands.

Hyunjin - Approaching each other at the bar

Never really one to go out of his way to talk to others because of his naturally shy nature, especially when it came to beautiful women, Hyunjin wasn't sure what it was that made him so drawn to you - and so boldly, at that.

You'd accepted his charming advances and the way he leaned on the bar, drink in hand and eyes glossy with already consumed alcohol. You'd listened to him go on about how he'd seen you from across the bar and thought you to be oh-so-beautiful, exquisite in his words, and how he just had to come over to introduce himself and shoot his shot. You'd let him sweet talk his way into your head - and your bed later that night.

Han - Meeting in the pharmacy

A man visiting to pick up his anxiety medication for the first time and a woman working her first shift on the job, the two of you seemed to get along because of your socially awkward demeanors and shy exchange in conversation. Looking at his ID and then passing him a small bag with a bottle of pills inside, he'd bowed his head politely and given you the shyest smile you'd seen to date.

And as he left the pharmacy with a heavy heart and a newfound adoration for the girl working behind the thin glass window, he'd forgotten to sneak a peek at your name plate sitting afront the glass. Shame - He'd just have to stop by again. (Not that he had a choice.)

Felix - Meeting during a bad first date

Sitting alone and sipping from a glass of a bitter and heavy red wine, a man with long blonde hair slides carefully into the seat across from you. He certainly wasn't the man you were waiting on - though, you shouldn't be complaining.

"I saw you sitting alone, figured you might want some company." He charms, smile amused but bright, calming and comforting to your lonely heart. When you nod and hum out in pleasant surprise, he takes it as a welcoming of him sitting in your no-show-date's seat and promptly flips open the menu sitting amongst the table. "Now, what are we having?~"

Seungmin - Meeting at a bus stop in the rain

You'd seen him before, though never bothered to exchange conversation. You got on at the same time each morning, the tall and handsome brunette at your side each day until you departed from the bus an hour later at your workplace.

This morning was like no other, until you arrived at the stop. The brunette was nowhere to be seen and as the rain poured down, you stood in defeat waiting for the bus to arrive. With hair slick to your cheeks and clothes drenched and heavy, the rain suddenly stops meeting your shoulders as a shadow appears overtop of your head. You peek up to see it's the brunette from every morning, holding a blue umbrella above the two of you. You look back ahead, cheeks rosy with heat, missing the way his lips quirk upward into a knowing (but adoring) smirk.

I.N - Meeting during Trivia Night

Trivia Night during college was probably one of the more 'loser' things to do around campus, but you were determined to find a club and hobby - and this was the easiest to pick. Alas, the group who agreed to go with you all bailed last minute, and you ended up alone at the massive table that should seat 10 people.

The MC of the night turns to point at you, exclaiming you wouldn't be able to play without a group, and a boy just a tad younger than you abruptly stands nearby to shout. "Get over here!" The boys surrounding his table gesture excitedly and you fumble to take a seat with them, unable to help the way your heart swells at the youngest's excitement and grandeur at having you now on their team.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagine #felix x reader #bangchan x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #han x reader #in x reader #seungmin x reader #lee know x reader #skz fluff #skz scenario #skz fic #stray kids x you #stray kids imagines

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itsswritten · 8 months ago

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gone. | 3

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Warnings: Slight angst, drinking alcohol, nightmares, slight mentions of death.

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on...or to realise what you've always had.

<< Previous Part

To celebrate your return, Mor insisted on a night out at Rita's. Despite your lingering exhaustion and the pull of a quiet weekend begging you to spend it sleeping and reading, you didn’t have the heart to say no to her.

That evening, you prioritised finishing your reports before joining your friends at Rita's. You had always been exceptionally dutiful in your role, taking immense pride in your responsibilities. Though Mor grumbled at your decision to work, she reluctantly agreed to meet you there later, with the rest of the group.

As you worked alone, you cherished the moments of silence. After six months of solitude, acclimatising to the hustle and bustle of family life was both exciting and well… exhausting. And navigating your relationship with Azriel wasn’t the easiest, you were trying, trying really hard in fact. And although you had fallen into old patterns, it was still a little awkward at times.

Azriel had perhaps had the most enjoyable week he’d experienced since you’d left all those months ago. Everyone had noticed how the tension had eased from his shoulders, warmth had returned to his eyes and how finally, his lips would pull into a full smile again. Azriel hadn’t allowed himself a moment of happiness since you left, in fact he quickly realised in your absence how you were the cause of most of his smiles. So your eagerness to mend a bridge between you both had been greatly appreciated, and he had relished in having your company back.

Yet, despite the familiarity in your interactions– friendly banter, teasing laughter and comforting silence. Azriel still felt the weight of your confession, and what it had done to him. How it had peeled back the layers on himself, revealing something that threatened the very dynamic you had begged for when you came back.

Best friends again?

Your words reverberated in his mind, a relentless echo of your plea. Azriel had teetered on the edge of refusal, almost said no, on the brink of voicing his own desire for something more. Admitting that just being friends would no longer be enough. But he found himself frozen under your vulnerable gaze, he had faltered, he too, consumed with the fear of unsettling the delicate relationship between you. The idea of risking your friendship was too daunting, too uncertain. It was safer to remain friends, safer to keep things as they were.

So he had remained silent.

Azriel took another sip of his drink, listening to his family laughing around their designated table at Rita’s. You weren’t here yet, your usual spot next to him and Mor still empty. Mor had mentioned you were wrapping up some work, and a part of him couldn't shake the urge to seek you out. He was contemplating sending his shadows to check on you.

Again.

His shadows had been silent watchers since you came back, although you hadn’t you seemed to mind. In fact after spending six months with a few of the smoky tendrils, you actually welcomed their company. Each morning, you were greeted by at least one shadow curling around your cheek, or if you were away from the group for too long, a shadowy companion would appear to give you a light whispery kiss on your skin.

Whether they acted of their own accord or at Azriel's behest remained unclear to you.

He had always been protective of his family, but it only intensified with you since your return. It becoming somewhat obsessive. He couldn’t stop himself though, and you hadn’t rejected his shadows yet, so he took that as silent confirmation that he could continue.

“Gods, the girl has always known how to dress.” Amren said approvingly, her words pulling Azriel out of his thoughts. He followed her gaze to the entrance of Ritas, where a familiar figure seemed to capture the attention of the room.

You.

Dressed in a black lacy number, you exuded an alluring energy. In fact you always had, but Azriel in all his centuries of knowing you had done a remarkable job of ignoring it. The dress was classy in shape, but the sheerness added that Night Court sex appeal you always carried so well. A little black thong and bralette peeked through the sheer fabric, while the lace hugged all your curves.

You had always captured the attention of everyone, a trait of yours that had only become more endearing to Azriel as the years went on. But previously, he would bury those thoughts and feelings in the darkest recesses of his mind, never to be touched. Them only slipping out occasionally in his dreams.

Those particular dreams had plagued his sleep for centuries now, his deepest desires burying themselves in his consciousness to slide out when he drifted into a slumber. His suppressed desires manifesting themselves in vivid dreams, visions of you that often made him struggle with what was real or illusion.

Some dreams were innocent, filled with whispered conversations under the starry nights. Dreams of taking you flying while your melodic laugh filled his ears. It was those nights he slept soundly, his mind surrendering to the hazy false reality.

There were also those darker dreams. More forbidden.

The kind that made it hard for him to look at you the next day. It was those dreams he struggled to stir from, the kind of dreams where he’d find you waiting for him in his bed, or where he’d wake still hearing your moans and the taste of you on his lips.

He’d had more of those dreams since you’d come back, and he knew he would definitely have that problem tonight after seeing you in that dress.

Was it really a problem though?

He couldn’t pretend that those dreams weren’t some of his favourites. As guilty as they made him feel.

And now, after everything. Knowing that there had been a possibility you could have been his, that feeling you, tasting you could have been his reality– he found it hard to steer his gaze. Hard to ignore your allure. Hard to believe he ever could have been so blind.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

His shadows coiled round his ear to chant, it was information he didn’t need. Because he already knew how beautiful you were.

He watched as you sauntered in, flashing a smile and small wave to regulars you recognised. A male had reached out, gently tugging on your arm for your attention, Azriel swore he heard him beg you to come dance.

“Maybe later,” you replied sweetly.

He was glad you rejected that male, glad he didn’t have to watch you dance with someone else, not that he had a right to feel that way. Azriel’s eyes followed the sway of your dress as it cascaded down to calf-length. He was mesmerised by you, and when he caught your scent he had to stop a quiet groan rolling up his throat.

Careful Azriel, you’re almost salivating there. It was Rhys’ talons that had clawed on Azriel’s mind, only for him to tease as soon as he was granted access.

Azriel shot Rhys a dark glare.

Fuck off.

Rhys merely laughed into Azriel’s mind. I’m just reminding you, that’s not how you look at a friend.

I said fuck off.

How you stayed composed all those centuries, to merely crumble now I’ll never understand.

Azriel was fast to push Rhys out his mind, while you took your seat beside him. “I got you a drink,” Azriel said to you, pushing your favourite cocktail your way.

“Thanks Az,” you beamed, picking the glass up to sip of the sweet concoction. A soft giggle left your lips as one of his shadows, coiled round the glass up your hand, to greet and pepper you with kisses.

He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, the words on the tip of his tongue but there was this fear holding him back.

“ME-OWW, I want a bite of you!” Mor teased, her fingers grabbing your waist pulling you closer to her on the bench.

“Was that Orion giving you those sex-eyes?” she spoke loudly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. She had clearly seen the interaction you’d had with an old admirer of yours.

You shrugged nonchalantly in response, opting to sip your drink instead of answer.

“We aren’t the only ones to have missed you it seems.” Nesta purred from across the table, joining in on Mor’s suggestiveness.

“Put the poor male out of his misery and fuck him already.” Amren smirked, stating an obvious solution.

The table erupted in amusement, words of encouragement and teasing remarks filling the air. It was definitely an option, one worth considering. Especially after that crushing rejection from Azriel.

And Orion was undeniably attractive. He had that deep dark tan with vibrant blond hair that offered a stark contrast to Azriel. It would be a welcome distraction.

However he could never match Azriel’s beauty.

You noticed how strikingly handsome Azriel was looking tonight, dressed in all black just like you. Always so smart and chic, the pair of you always dressed that way. Mor had pointed out years ago, you both always seemed to coordinate effortlessly. Her comment had sparked a glimmer of hope within you, something you had desperately clung to. That maybe yours and Azriel’s connection was deeper, and a small part of you had fantasised at the possibility that maybe you were mates.

In the end it had just been wishful thinking. Fulled by your own affection and longing. You and Azriel were fated to be only friends.

And that would be enough.

You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth, glancing behind you with Mor to look at the male. A large shit-eating grin on his face as he winked at you. He was quite the charmer.

“Hmmm maybe,” you replied to your friends quietly as you turned back to face them, Mor bumping her shoulder with yours gently in response.

Maybe this was how you would move on from Azriel? By getting under someone else.

You’re not sure why you felt compelled to look, why you cared what he thought, but your gaze steered to your side. Gazing up at your handsome darked-haired friend. Azriel’s eyes were already on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that caught you off guard.

He didn’t appear impressed, neither angry nor happy. “You’re too good for him,” he stated quietly, before taking a sip of his drink again.

You wanted to respond, ask what he meant by that. Ask why he even cared, why it even mattered. Casual rendezvous’ didn’t hold some kind of standards, and your partners didn’t need to meet whatever expectations Azriel suddenly had for you.

“Oh shut it Az! She deserves to get laid, she didn’t get to have any fun on her trip and that was six months long!” Mor reiterated her rhetoric from the other day.

You rolled your eyes, about to interject to remind her once again you were not on some half-year vacation.

“It was not some trip but a high-stakes mission yadda yadda” Mor chimed, mimicking you.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing, the female really knew how to open you up. Her teasing, her probing, was relentless to some. But had always worked on you. Pulling back those walls.

Giving her a playful glint you spoke, “I almost had some fun if you must know.”

For some reason, you found yourself stealing a glance at Azriel, curious about his reaction. He had never taken an interest in your romantic encounters in the past, so his sudden attention confused you.

Azriel tensed at your words, chewing the inside of his cheek before taking another sip of his drink. It was Rhys that was watching him with that infamous smirk. Azriel wanted to wipe it clean off his brother’s face.

I told you to fuck off.

Rhys only laughed back into his brother's mind.

“Give me all the details.” Mor squealed, clasping your hands in hers.

You shrugged, your lips curing into a soft smirk, retelling how you had met this mysterious male on your travels. “He was really cute…handsome…had these gorgeous eyes,” you sighed dramatically, your eyes gazing off into the distance, hand on your heart. “But he was the enemy, so I had to kill him.”

Your friends laughed in response, some of them shaking their heads in disbelief. Nesta leaned across the table with a dark glint in her eye, “You could have had a bit of fun first.”

You scoffed playfully at the notion, hand waving in the air dismissively. “Etiquette darling. I don’t like playing with my food before eating,” you purred.

Nesta shook her head with a smirk, “I’ve missed you, come dance.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a command when it came to Nesta and dancing. You rose from your seat, Mor and Feyre joining you eagerly as you made your way into the crowd, letting the music engulf you.

Azriel’s eyes, though, stayed glued on you.

"She's not going anywhere, Az," Cassian chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. It was easy for Cassian to assume Azriel’s obsessive nature had spun from your absence, from your dangerous mission, just Azriel’s natural protectiveness of all his family members, but of course that wasn’t the only reason.

He couldn't help but watch you, captivated by every movement. Not when you looked like that, when you moved like that, smelt like that.

Your confession had torn him a part, shattered his perception, forcing him to confront feelings he'd long buried. Make him acknowledge a possible reality he never considered himself worthy of. Azriel couldn't shake the image of what could have been, a world where it would have been your body swaying against his tonight.

Cassian had smacked his empty glass on the table now, shouting that he’d get another round in as he walked over to the bar.

“So what are you going to do, Azriel?” Rhys then asked, his own eyes never leaving Feyre who was dancing drunkenly with you.

Azriel glanced briefly at Amren, who remained at the table, swirling her drink absently. She didn't meet his gaze, clearly uninterested in being dragged into the complexities of her family's relationships.

"I don’t think you'll have four centuries to pine for her this time," Rhys remarked quietly. "I don’t think she'll wait that long."

Azriel drew in a sharp breath at Rhys’ words, his gaze still tracing the contours of your form. His breath caught as he realised your eyes had found him from across the crowded room. A soft smile forming on your lips, prompting him to give you one back in return.

If this was all he could have of you. Would it be enough?

❊

“Az…”

He heard someone calling his name. That familiar melodic tone.

“…Azriel wake up,” that soft sweet voice sang to him.

Only that voice could pull him from his deepest dreams and nightmares.

Azriel stirred, his consciousness slowly emerging from the recesses of sleep. Blinking groggily, he glanced around his dimly lit room, his mind clouded with confusion.

His head throbbed faintly, a dull ache pulsating behind his temples. Had he drank too much? He couldn't remember.

He turned on his side to face where your voice had called him, only to find you laying beside him. Why were you here? What had happened last night?

There was a soft smile gracing your lips. You were adorned in a delicate white nightgown, that seemed to shimmer in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. You were a vision of ethereal beauty— and you were in his bed. A sight that left Azriel momentarily breathless.

How had this come to be?

You were so close to him, only a breath away from his face. So close, he could feel the warmth radiating from your body. For a fleeting moment, he almost let himself get lost in your gaze. Those eyes, he loved so much. He often dreamt of them, lost himself in them, and searched for them in a crowded room. He loved the way they crinkled when you laughed. A sight he would never tire from seeing.

His mind was reeling though, he couldn't recall getting into bed. Or when you joined him.

"It's time, Az..." you whispered.

Azriel didn’t understand.

"Time for what?" Azriel mumbled, his brow furrowing in bewilderment.

Your words were sickly sweet, dripping with an unsettling ambiguity that sent shivers down his spine. But before he could make sense of them, your fingers were threading through his hair, and he found himself paralysed by the intimacy of the touch.

"It's just time," you murmured softly, your smile masking a deeper sorrow. Your voice echoing through the caverns of his mind like a haunting melody.

But time for what?

Azriel's confusion deepened, his heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong, he could sense it.

Where were his shadows?

Before he could question you further, he watched as you closed the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his.

As your lips met, there was a sensation of weightlessness over Azriel. As if he was suspended in a realm where time held no sway. It was silent, peaceful and felt endless. He wasn’t sure why or how this was happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to question. Couldn’t bring himself to break away.

No, not now. Not now he had you.

His heart swelled with a mixture of joy and disbelief. You were finally his, finally in his arms.

He felt you against him. Your body plush to his, melting into his touch. A warmth vibrated through his chest, as your breaths mingled. Azriel’s arms wrapped around you tighter, as if terrified this would all slip away.

Wait, something was wrong. But Azriel, lost to your touch, couldn’t remember what.

The softness of your kisses against his lips was like a sweet melody, stirring something deep within him. He craved more, his hunger for you insatiable, as if he could never get enough to quench the burning desire within him.

This was what he had been searching for all those years. All those times he got it wrong, thinking it was someone else. It had in fact been right in front of him the whole time– you.

He could feel you pulling away. Azriel looked at you now, noticing that sorrowful expression on your face again.

“It’s time…I have to move on now,” you smiled sadly.

"Move on...what do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I've waited so long, Az...too long," you replied, your words laced with a haunting sense of finality.

Unable to find the right words, Azriel watched helplessly as you began to slip away, sliding out of his arms and off the bed. He tried to move, tried to grab you, stop you, pull you back but you were slipping through his fingers like water.

A cold breeze swept through the room, sending goosebumps over his body. The air seemed to grow thicker, heavier, as if the very atmosphere was connected with your emotion.

Panic gripped his chest, like a claw had clasped his heart and it was squeezing it with every heartbeat. Desperation was flooding his senses as he reached out for you, his voice cracking with emotion. Something was wrong.

“Wait don’t leave y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you–”

"Will you make me wait another 400 years, Azriel?" your voice echoed in his mind, the haunting tone of your voice shaking him.

His body felt as if it were encased in stone, every movement sluggish and strained. No matter how hard he tried to rise from the bed, he could only manage to shift to its edge, his limbs refusing to obey his desperate commands.

In the doorway of his room, you stood, your form bathed in an eerie half-light that cast strange shadows across your face. Fear etched lines of worry into your features, your eyes wide with a terror that mirrored his own.

Something was wrong. You needed to come back to him, back to his arms where it was safe.

"I may not live that long," you cried out, your voice raw with anguish, the sound of it tearing at his soul.

Azriel tried again, ragging his limbs to try to get closer to you. Then in that moment, time itself seemed to warp and twist, as if the hands of fate were turning the clock.

Azriel could only watch in horror as you began to age before his eyes, each passing second drawing lines of time upon your skin. Your once youthful visage contorted and twisted, suddenly you began to wither, flesh peeling away like petals from a dying flower.

Your scream was piercing through his skull, your hands trying to hold onto the pieces of flesh that were burning away until there was nothing left.

Tears were streaming down his face as Azriel stumbled off his bed, his heart pounding with a frantic urgency. His rapid uncoordinated footsteps matched his heartbeat. He felt drugged. But that didn’t matter, he needed to find you. He ran out of his room into a darkness that seemed to swallow him whole, his voice a desperate plea echoing through the empty halls.

"Come back...please," he cried out, his words carried away by the chilling breeze that surrounded him. Each step he took felt heavier than the last, his limbs weighed down by a crushing weight. "I won't make you wait…please...please," he begged, his voice suffocating with painful emotion.

“Azriel…” he heard a voice.

“Y/n,” he cried out again. But only darkness answered him.

“Azriel! Wake up!” It wasn’t your voice, no, someone was shouting. Someone was shaking him.

Suddenly the darkness faded, and the face of his brother speckled into his vision. Rhys had his hands gripped to the side of Azriel’s face.

Rhys and Mor had stayed up for the night, lounging with some faerie wine, reminiscing as the house slept silently. But then they’d hear screaming, and before they could even move Azriel had stumbled down the hall screeching your name. It was clear to Rhys, that Azriel was entrapped in some disorientating nightmare, and he had used his talons to pull him from the deathly grips of the dream.

“It’s a dream brother, only a dream” he tried to reassure him.

But Azriel’s eyes were searching, looking for you.

Azriel was slumped on the floor, his knees under him. Rhys and Mor pulled him against a wall, hoping the cool stone would bring him to his senses. His shadows were frantically buzzing around him. Attempting but failing to console him.

“Where is y/n?” he managed to choke out.

Not here, not here, not here. His shadows whispered in his ear.

Mor stepped forward, concern on her face “She’s with Orion. You know this…” she spoke softly.

Slowly slivers of reality seemed to sink into place. His dream had felt like eternity, and yet it had only been a few hours since you had all left Rita’s.

No you hadn’t left, you had stayed. Stayed with him, stayed with Orion.

He had been too late. Too late to find the courage, too late to speak his truth.

That male. Orion, had found you on the dance floor. Ensnared your attention for the evening, had charmed you. Charmed you enough that you hadn’t returned with your family, that you had stayed to seek the comfort of him that night.

Not Azriel. He had been too late.

Azriel had curled in on himself, knees brought to his chest as sobs began to rack through his body. The talons of the nightmare still clung to him, dragging him back into its clutches. Senseless words left his lips, your name rolling off his tongue repetitively.

"I was too late…" he cried, his voice choking with anguish. "Rhys, you have to save her… she… her face… Rhys… she was dying."

“I think you might need to call for y/n, Rhys,” Mor suggested, her concern evident as she crouched near Azriel. He was trapped in a dreamlike state, caught between the realms of reality and imagination. When she reached out to touch him, he only flinched away, lost in his own torment.

Azriel was drenched in sweat, his body burning with fever as he struggled to distinguish between what was real and what was not. As much as Rhys tried, Azriel’s mind was a mess. He couldn’t decipher what was right in front of him and what was in his mind.

To him you were gone, he’d seen it with his own eyes. He had failed you.

"What's going on?" Your voice cut through the tense air, drawing the attention of Mor and Rhys.

You stood in the doorway of the lounge, your hair tousled and your nightgown askew as if someone had forcefully dragged you from the depths of your own dreams. In fact that is exactly what had happened. Azriel’s shadows were circling you, pulling and tugging you relentlessly, just as they had awoken you.

You could tell from their desperate plea something was wrong, and it had only taken you a matter of seconds to run from your room.

"We thought... I thought you'd gone home with—" Rhys began, but you shook your head, your expression filled with concern as you took in Azriel's state. Without hesitation, you moved quickly to kneel beside him.

You could have gone home with Orion, almost did. Was tempted, but there was something about the way Azriel had looked at you as they all departed for the night that had gnawed at you. A look of a broken male. His expression, a mixture of sadness…and well, longing. It was confusing.

And unfair. He had rejected you after all.

Yet, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore. Despite his rejection, your heart ached for him. After an hour in Orion's company at the bar, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. So you called it a night and came home.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Azriel caught in a state like this. Azriel didn’t sleep much, but when he did there had been a few times in your years of knowing him that he'd find himself trapped in the liminal space between dreams and reality.

“Hey Az…” you moved to the space in front of him, crouching between the space of his kness. His eyes were skittish, looking at you but through you. It was as if he didn't register your presence at all, trapped in a world of his own making.

“I waited too long…” he breathed out, his fingers tangled in his hair pulling and ragging at the strands.

“Azriel,” you spoke gently but firmly, your voice a lifeline in the darkness that engulfed him. You needed to coax him out of this. “It wasn’t real, only a dream”

A torrent of incomprehensible words spilled from his lips, and you exchanged a glance with Rhys and Mor, who stood nearby, frozen in place.

Over the centuries of being part of this family, you'd all encountered moments like these. Moments where the nightmares and traumas racked over you. However, Azriel had always been more private about his inner turmoil. You realised that this might be the first time Rhys and Mor had witnessed this part of him.

It wasn’t your first time, though. One of the earliest moments you realised you loved Azriel was after he had helped you through a debilitating nightmare, one that had left you screaming in your sleep. From then on, he had always been there to offer comfort in those dark moments.

And you had always been there for him in return.

“I’ve got this…” you reassured them with a soft smile, and they nodded, reluctantly leaving the room. They didn’t want to abandon Azriel in such a state, but they trusted you, trusted that you would only ask this of them if it was for Azriel’s best interest.

You waited for them to leave, the room enveloped in a heavy silence, save for Azriel's incoherent whispers that echoed off the walls.

“I was too late…” he repeated, his voice strained.

“Hmmm were you? What were you late for Azriel?” Again you voice, firm but sweet resounding through the room.

He blinked, finally recognising your presence. His brows furrowed as tears streamed down his face.

“I lost you, I was too late” he choked out.

“You haven't lost me, Az. I'm right here,” you reassured him, your voice a soothing balm.

But Azriel shook his head, haunted by the vivid memory of seeing you slip away before him.

“Tell him, tell him I’m right here.” You spoke, this time towards his shadows.

She’s here. She’s here. They sang.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he listened to his shadows. They had never deceived him before, always guiding him with honesty. So surely what they were saying was true?

You tilted your head slightly, a soft smile gracing your lips as you reached for his hand. His eyes widened at your touch, but he didn’t recoil. He watched as you gently placed his hand against your chest, just above your heart.

Real, real, real. His shadows continued to sing in his ear. Their own feather-light touches caressing his body, cooling him down.

He could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump. The vibrations of your heart were sobering under his palm. And there was something about the way this felt, so different to the version of you in his dream. Everything was heightened, every sense felt multiplied.

“I’m real Az, and I’m here. It was just a dream, okay?”

Azriel felt a shaky breath leave his lips as his own breathing synced with yours. His rapid heartbeat gradually slowed to match the steady rhythm of yours.

You weren’t gone. But you had chosen someone else.

“But…but you chose someone else,” he sputtered out.

You weren’t sure what he meant. Whether this someone else was what he had dreamed of, or if he meant Orion. But you leaned forward, drawing closer until your faces were mere inches apart, so close that he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“I’ll always choose you, Azriel.” It was the truth. You knew he needed to hear this, he needed reassurance to pull him from the grasp of his nightmare, but it was also unequivocally true. You would always choose him.

You had tonight.

In the opportunity of comfort and pleasure of another, you had chosen Azriel. Even in his rejection. Even if that made you a fool. You would always choose him.

“Really?”

“Always.”

You both sat there for a while, Azriel syncing his breathing to yours as the cloudiness of his vision cleared and he began to feel reality pinching him. It felt so real, that nightmare. A version of his future he never wanted to face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently moving his hand from your chest as embarrassment seemed to finally wash over him.

“Don’t ever apologise for this, Az,” you spoke softly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I just mean I’m sorry for everything, for hurting you before, for not seeing what was right in front of me all along, for not being honest…”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him, but you let him speak.

“I’ve been trying to find the right words to say to you for the past six months.” He laughed then, not the laugh you loved. A self-deprecating laugh that made your chest ache. “I had six months to find the right words, and I was still too late…” he trailed off, his voice heavy.

“Ever since Mor introduced you almost four centuries ago, you’ve had me mesmerised. I thank the stars every day you came into my life…”

You thanked the stars everyday for him too.

“Azriel, I feel the same…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“No, I don’t think you understand, y/n. I adore you. I’ve always adored you.” Azriel's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, his hands trembling as he reached out to take yours.

He hesitated with his words, still struggling to find the right way to say this. You felt the roughness of his scars against your soft skin, but it was welcome, you had always found his hands beautiful. His touch, comforting.

Right now though, something felt different.

The way Azriel was looking at you was unlike anything you had seen before. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you.

“You are so wonderful, so beautiful, smart, hilarious. You’re the best of all of us.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, it was a notion your family had always told you. Azriel through the years, claiming that statement more times than you could count. But this time the words felt different, they weighed heavier, they revealed so much more. And you feel your cheeks heating under his intense stare.

“You are. You’re the best of us, better than me. Too good for me.”

“Azriel…” you said softly,

“That’s why your confession came as a shock, I just never considered myself good enough for you. Never thought I’d be the kind of male worthy of you.”

You felt your throat tighten at the idea. The thought that Azriel had never considered himself good enough for you, when he was exactly everything you wanted and needed.

“I’ve been deflecting my feelings for years, ignoring them, because I didn’t think I deserved you…”

Azriel's hand tightened around yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin.

"But I don't want to waste any more time," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you were with Orion–”

“There’s no one else,” you cut him off quickly, the realisation dawning on you. A realisation of what was happening, what your dear friend was admitting. Something you had hoped and wished for so long.

Your heart was now the rapid one and you could feel it beating through your chest.

"If there's a chance for us, I want us to take it." Azriel concluded, his confession final.

"Really, Az?" your bottom lip quivered slightly, your eyes becoming glassy as tears threatened to spill.

"Really, my love."

“I love you…” The words tumbled from your lips, soft and heartfelt.

With gentle strength, he pulled you into his embrace, your head finding its place in the curve of his neck. He inhaled deeply, savouring the familiar scent of you.

“I love you more than words can express, more than you may ever realise,” he whispered, his voice brimming with tenderness. “And I promise to make up for lost time.”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile was on his lips, one you gave back, as a tear rolled down your cheek. He moved gently then, leaning down to press a tender kiss where the salty tear had escaped.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, a force he had ignored for hundreds of years, his lips found yours in a long-awaited embrace. Time seemed to slow as you shared that kiss, your lips melting into one another. Finally, the kiss seemed to speak of.

This was it.

This would be enough, because this was everything.

fin.

a/n: Sorry to make you all wait so long for this! I was in a really bad writing slump, and wasn't sure how to make this work, still not 100% on it but hey-ho (but thank you to my love, @illyrianbitch for her continuous support every time I changed my mind and scrapped an idea lol, and to @milswrites for her lovely words that helped me get out of my slump) Anyway I hope you all got the ending you wanted ;) but yeah let me know if you want any one-shots from these two! I'd be happy to explore their dynamic a little more if you've got a scenario in mind <3

Forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @milswrites @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound @amberlynn98 @marscardigan

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #azriel fic rec #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel series

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desi2go · 4 months ago

Text

About the night two months ago

pairings: Jisung x reader

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, best friends to lovers, comfort and fluff

summary: You didn't plan on getting pregnant and not from a one-night-stand. And most definitely not from your best friend. Yet, here you are, pregnant, without a plan how your life will go on and how you will tell Jisung.

Since you were a little child, you had always planned your life because you always had a vision how your life would look like. You knew that you couldn't control everything in your life but the things you could influence were constantly orientated at your goals and dreams.

You gave your absolute best at school to get accepted at the best college even though you often felt exhausted and tired of learning until midnight. But you were determined to get the life you always wanted and dreamed of. And you wouldn't let any obstacles in your way that could put your goals at risk.

You avoided distractions as best as you could. However, you weren't a killjoy. You loved to expierence completely new things and to attend parties in college. Just because you're determined doesn't mean that you couldn't have fun.

Someone, who always strengthened your back and supported you, was Jisung. He was your best friend since high school and with him, you always had fun. After he spilt his juice all over your jacket in the first year of high school and invited you for an ice cream to apologise, you both were inseparable. He was your partner in crime.

However, something you couldn't predict were the two lines that stared back at you. You sat in your bathroom against your bathtub, holding a test strip that seemed to draw insurmountable line between your current life and the harsh reality that stared now at your face. Two unmistakable pink lines.

Your heart raced, your breath shallow and you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. These two fucking lines changed everything. From one moment to another, your whole life was upside down. Everything you had planned out was now on the edge of dying.

The realization slowly sank in after staring at the test for god knows how long. You were pregnant.

You didn't even know how that was possible. You always protected when you hooked up with somebody. There wasn't any chance that you could be with child. But still, you held that pregnancy test strip in your hand and it was still showing clearly two pink lines.

Then, it hit you.

"Two months..." you whispered to yourself, remembering what had happened two months ago after that one wild party. You and Jisung had ended up in bed together.

You couldn't retell everything that took place due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed that evening. But you could still remember standing outside the bar, laughing at some silly joke one of their friends made just shortly before the taxi had arrived to bring you and him back to your apartment.

The alcohol had made them both reckless and the ride was filled with carefree laughter and playful flirting.

The next thing you knew was that you woke up the next morning with a painful headache, totally naked and your best friend's arm draped loosely around you, also splinter fibre nude. And now, that one accident was now turning your life upside down.

Now here you were, two months later, with a truth that could no longer be ignored. You felt sick, but this time, it wasn't from a hangover. It felt as though the walls around you were closing in. How were you supposed to tell Jisung? How could you look him in the eye and explain that one night had consequences neither of you could have imagined.

And then, there was that other feeling, the one that took your breath away. A love that you had secretly harboured for years. Jisung was the person you had confided in about everything, except for this one secret.

You hated fate for putting you in this impossible situation. Why now? Why like this? It wasn't that you don't want to have children, no, but not now. This wasn't how your life was supposed to go. The irony was almost unbearable. That now, when you needed your best friend the most, you feared losing him more than ever.

One thing was clear, with the jumble of thoughts, you couldn't tell him anything about it yet. So, you waited some days to sort out your thoughts and get your mind straight. For a day, you played with the idea of aborting the child but even though it was definitely not planned, you already loved the little bean growing inside of you.

You knew that you couldn't avoid him forever. Usually, you met every day. It was a mirracle that he didn't already sensed that something was off when you didn't get in touch with him for some days.

You took a deep breath and reached for your phone as soon as you found the courage. Your fingers trembled as you dialed Jisung's number. The minute dragged on painfully and with each ring, your heart grew heavier. Finally, he picked up, his familiar, warm voice coming through the line.

"Hey, Y/n. Everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, signalling that he already sensed that something was off.

You swallowed hard. There was no easy way to say this.

"Ji, we need to talk"

"Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. He wasn't used to you being so direct so he immediately worried.

A pause followed before you answered with a short yes.

"Please, I need to tell you something. Can we meet up tomorrow for lunch at our café?" You urged.

Fortunately, he agreed without further asking questions. You hated lying to him and you definitely weren't fine. You were terrified about what was about to come and how Jisung will react. But you wouldn't want to tell him over phone. He deserved to hear it from you face to face.

It sounded unimaginable and bizarre that he was the father of your child. However, you still regretted sleeping with him. This whole situation wouldn't happen if you just didn't drink that night. And you couldn't forget how he acted the morning after. Jisung acted like nothing had happened, like it was a completely normal thing. But it wasn't and the way he shrugged it off without mentioning it once after that, hurt you more than you had expected.

It was a mistake for him, clearly. Otherwise, he wouldn't act like that. And it showed you that he never saw you in that way. You were just his best friend, someone he loved like a sister. And it just hurt so bad that the guy you have been crushing over years, only perceived you as a family member.

Even if the situation you were in sucked, you now had someone by your side. The little bean growing inside of you. And you will love it no matter what.

You told yourself that over a thousand times til you entered the café the next day, anxiously looking around to see if Jisung was here. He wasn't and you sat down at your usual place by the big window. A waitress came and took you order. Normally, you would drink a coffee but you have read that caffeine was harmful for the baby so that you rather picked a tea and for Jisung an americano.

Just shortly after your drinks were placed on your table, Jisung sat down in front of you, giving you a small smile. After being his best friend for so long, you knew that he tried to judge why you where so serious and distant.

"Hey", he said, puffing air out and brushing a hand through his hair while the other one grabs his americano.

"Hey Ji", you mumbled, taking a deep breath. Now, there was no other way than telling him. You couldn't turn around anymore. Your hands wrapped around your hot tea, something you could cling on. The café was usually one of your favourite places, a cozy refuge filled with warm light and the comforting hum of quiet conversations. But today, the familiar setting only heightened your anxiety. Your foot tapped nervously under the table, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was starting to think you were avoiding me" he stated and he wasn't wrong. You nearly dodged all of his texts and just answered shortly when calling.

Jisung looked at you closely, concern etched on his face. "Y/n, what's going on? You haven't been yourself lately. Is something wrong?"

Your hands trembled around your tea and you pressed them against the cup to stop it.

"Jisung, there's something I need to tell you", you began, voice shaky.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his whole attention drawn to you. You couldn't meet his gaze, your heart was racing and you felt like you might throw up.

"Do you remember that night two months ago? The night we ... we slept together?" you finally managed to say, your voice barely audible.

Jisung's expression shifted from concern to a mix of confusion and shock, his eyes widening as he processed your words.

"Yeah, I remember" It was the first time you spoke about that night. "What about it?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. This was it, there is no turning back now.

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Ji", you whispered, tears sparkeling in your eyes, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still and there was just this silence, no quiet conversations could be heard. It was like the whole world paused for one moment. Jisung just stared at you, as if he hadn't fully understood what you had said. His face was a mix of shock, confusion and something else you couldn't quite place.

"It's yours" you added slowly.

"You're... pregnant?", he repeated, as if saying the words out loud would make something change. "And it's mine?"

You nodded, eyes filled with tears. This was it, the end of your friendship. Every moment, he would just jump up and run away, leaving you alone in the mess both of you made.

Jisung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process the bomb you just dropped on him. He looked away, out of the window, as if searching for some kind of clarity in the world outside.

"Y/n, I... I don't know what to say", he admitted, his voice strained. "This is... I mean, this changes everything"

You nodded, throat tight with the turmoil of emotion within you. "I know. I know it does. And I don't expect you to have all the answers right now. I just... I needed to tell you. It's your baby too and you deserved to know"

"We'll figure something out. I don't know how yet, but we will figure it out"

The weeks that followed your conversation in the café were a whirlwind of emotions and decisions. Jisung and you spent countless hours talking, sometimes late into the night, about what you are going to do and how you felt about everything. The initial shock began to give way to a deeper understanding and connection between you.

Jisung was there for the first doctor's appointment, holding your hand and reassuring you whenever fear threatened to overwhelm you. You spent more time together than before which was something you thought wasn't possible because you were always joined at your hips over the last years. But in those new moments of shared vulnerability, something began to shift between you.

Both of you agreed that you wouldn't get a abortion and you must admit that you fell in love with the little bean growing inside of you.

You laughed at one of his suggestions, shaking your head. "You seriously can't be proposing 'Rufus' for a girl's name."

Jisung grinned, a playful glint in his eye. "Hey! It's unique and she will never meet another Rufus in her life"

You rolled your eyey but there was a warmth in your gaze. "We'll keep it as a backup" you promised, smiling and mindlessly stroking over your still flat belly. A comfortable silence settled over you, and you found yourself studying his face, the familiar lines and expressions that had been a part of your life for so long. There was something different in the way he looked at you now, something deeper that you couldn’t quite put into words.

Your best friend noticed you observing him and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked softly.

You hesitated, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I've been thinking a lot lately... about us. About what all of this means"

His expressions softened and he shifted closer to you on the couch, his fanding yours. " I have been thinking about that too" he admitted, his voice low and serious.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what had been on your ind for so long. "I have always cared about you, Ji. But I think... no, I know... that it's more than that. I've been in love with you for a long time now. And I was so scared to lose you, I didn't know how to tell you"

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you worried that you said too much, too soon. But his hand squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice filled with an emotion you had never heard from him before. “I’ve always loved you too. I just never knew how to say it, or if you felt the same way. But now... now I know that I don’t want to go through this without you. I don’t want to miss out on what we could have together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness. “Are you sure?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jisung nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m sure. I want us to be a family, Y/n. I want to be with you, not just because of the baby, but because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The words you had longed to hear finally fell from his lips, and the weight that had been pressing down on your chest lifted. Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, but it quickly deepened as years of unspoken feelings finally found their release.

When you pulled back, both of you were breathless, but there was a sense of certainty that had never been there before.

“We’ll figure this out together,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it as a team.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and hope for the future. “Together,” you echoed.

And as you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the path ahead no longer seemed as daunting. You both knew there would be challenges, but you also knew that you could face anything as long as you had each other.

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