#THE EXPRESSIONS ARE EXACTLY WHAT I ASKED FOR……

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

wc: 1420

cw: none!

me: back on my criminal minds grind... also im not gonna lie to u guys i just got back from a hosue party and im extremely drunk, so if u see any mistakes don't be afraid to lmk. also if u have any requests for hotch!daughter pls send them thru bc im heavy into reid rn i just adore him <3

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Who is that?” JJ asked, pointing subtly over to the figure walking cautiously out of the elevator doors. The figure, of course, being you, nervously trying to find your way around the glitzy BAU offices.

“God knows we needed a new pretty face around here — no offence, ladies,” Morgan laughed, drawing well-humoured insults from the women of the office.

“I for one don’t take any offence, her shoes are so cute!” Garcia gushed from over Morgan’s shoulder, eyes locked on your sleek black heels.

“Oh my god, they look just like the ones in that window we passed on the way to dinner, don’t you remember? Even Hotch said they were nice!” Kate wheeled her way into the conversation on her swivel chair.

It was a slow day around the office, not something that went unappreciated, so each agent was eagerly amenable to conversation.

“Reid, come over here,” Morgan beckoned, “Has she ever been here before?”

“Me?” He spluttered, eyes searching frantically, “Why would you ask me? Hundreds of people come into this building every day, let alone the thousands we see on the street every day, on cases—”

“And you have an eidetic memory kid, are you thinking straight or is the pretty girl messing up Boy Genius?”

Reid would drop dead before admitting that Morgan’s words had any truth to them, but his usually overactive speech pattern was halted by the vision of you entering the office’s glass double doors. His mouth dried out as you looked around, obviously unsure of where you were headed.

“No,” He finally answered, “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She looks lost. Kind of scared, even?” JJ was giving her signature maternal look, concern etched into her face and Garcia was up before anyone could tell her it might not have been a good idea.

The gang watched from afar as your expression brightened from worried to delighted as Garcia began to chat with you, eyes gleaming as you pointed down to your heels. Clearly she’d repeated the earlier compliment.

“Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, and you are gorgeous. I’m in love with your shoes!” The introduction and compliment took you by surprise but you were by no means disappointed, replying with equal giddiness.

“Thank you so much, my Dad bought them for me!” You extended your right leg slightly to show off the heel more holistically, “And I just love your outfit, the glasses are everything.”

Garcia gushed her own appreciation as the two of you became fast friends, so you chanced a request for help.

“I’m looking for SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office? I know it’s one of the big fancy ones but I’m not sure exactly which.”

“Up those stairs and second door! You can’t miss it, the big boss energy radiates as soon as you go near.” You both laughed and you made sure to thank Garcia profusely.

Reid watched as you pointed up to the private offices, evidently searching for a specific office. He wondered who you could be looking for. He didn’t have to wonder for long as Garcia rushed back, talking a million miles an hour as she explained that you were looking for Hotch. That brought more questions than answers, and the BAU were quick to place bets on what you could possibly want from him.

“Well, she’s certainly too young to be his girlfriend,” Morgan laughed, “Unless Hotch gets down more than we thought.”

“Could be a young woman looking for a mentor? She looks about college age, maybe just graduated?” Kate suggested and JJ nodded in agreement, neither even pretending to be working anymore.

Meanwhile, you’d made your way up to Hotch’s office, knocking softly on the oak door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, eyebrows raising only slightly, an extreme show of emotion for the man.

“Check your watch, Agent Hotchner,” You smiled, unsurprised that he’d gotten totally consumed by his work.

“Damn,” He huffed under his breath, “I’m sorry, should we go now, then? And what did I tell you about calling me that?”

“Sorry, Dad,” You emphasised the title, “And yeah, let’s head. I’m starving.”

Down in the bullpen, even Rossi had been roped into the shenanigans.

“You’re the closest with Hotch, if anyone would know who she is it’s you!” JJ said, the rest of the group agreeing.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask him?” Rossi shook his head like he was dealing with small children. Sometimes he was convinced he was.

You took Hotch’s offered arm and the two of you left his office, making quiet smalltalk. The office fell eerily quiet as you two emerged from the behind the closed door, and you got the distinct impression that the BAU had all been talking about you.

Obviously Hotch noticed the team very unsuccessfully playing it cool and muttered a curse, signalling to you to head over to them. You supposed you were going to finally get your formal introductions.

“This is Rossi, Derek Morgan, JJ, Kate Cunningham, Penelope Garcia, and Doctor Spencer Reid. Guys, this is my daughter.”

If you thought there was silence before, it was nothing compared to when Hotch dropped that bomb. You could hear a pin drop.

“Um, it’s really nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so many stories about your work.”

“And we’ve never heard anything about you, pretty girl.”

“Morgan,” Hotch warned with hardly any bite as you laughed off Morgan’s playful flirting.

“Derek Morgan you are exactly like I was told. You too, Penelope, my father was not exaggerating about your outfits.”

“I thought you were starving?” Hotch changed the subject to tease you, nudging you to get moving.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You don’t want me taking all your friends,” You grinned, getting moving nonetheless. The BAU laughed, both charmed and confused by you. It wasn’t unbelievable you were Hotch’s daughter — your quiet confidence and posture was the same, but your friendliness and more easily understandable humour set you two apart.

“Bye everyone!” You called over your shoulder as Hotch rushed you out the doors, clearly keen for you to stop making friends with his coworkers.

“She seems nice,” JJ commented, sitting back down in her swivel chair.

“Can we all talk about how Pretty Boy didn’t say a word that whole conversation?” Morgan asked, a hand clamping deviously on Reid’s shoulder.

“Spencer!” Kate laughed, “You don’t have a crush, do you?”

Reid could feel his cheeks heating up of their own accord, his usually genius brain useless to counteract it.

“No!” He blurted out, “I just didn’t want to say something wrong or bore her with facts like I do with you guys.”

“So you do want to impress her?” Garcia teased with a toothy grin as Reid rushed to shake his head no.

“She’s our boss’ daughter, guys. I think all of us should want to impress her, right?”

“I dunno, Reid, I don’t see Morgan or JJ blushing right now,” Rossi chimed in with a laugh before heading back to his office.

You stepped into the elevator with Hotch, chatting happily about your day so far. Your father stuck his hand out to hold the door open with such speed it scared you a little, jumping in your own body. You relaxed when you saw it was just Penelope Garcia, hurrying towards you with a few files in her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” She breathed as the doors closed behind her, “I forgot Rossi wanted these scanned and digitised from the last case!” She punched the button for the third floor. “It was really nice to meet you, by the way. Even if Hotch has kept you a secret all these years.”

“To be totally fair to him, I wouldn’t say he exactly kept me a secret if he only found out I existed a few years ago. It was nice to finally meet you all too, though. I’ve heard so many work stories.”

You bid Garcia goodbye as the doors opened once again. Just as she was almost down the hall she heard your voice whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me doctor Reid was hot and smart?”

Penelope hardly concealed her gasp, delighted at the newfound revelation. This would be fun for her.

[little-jana]

"Soft Words in a Loud World"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma (vague, non-explicit), hurt/comfort

Summary: You don’t like shouting—haven’t for as long as you can remember. But Spencer knows. And Spencer never does.

a/n: requested by anon! Thank you, hope u like it! 💞

The first time Spencer saw you flinch at raised voices, he didn’t say anything.

He just noticed.

It was during a briefing, when Hotch had snapped out orders a little too sharply in response to a particularly frustrating case. It wasn’t directed at you, but that didn’t matter. The moment the tension spiked, you had gone quiet, your shoulders stiff, your gaze locked onto a fixed point on the table.

You hadn’t reacted too noticeably—probably not enough for most people to pick up on it.

But Spencer wasn’t most people.

And Spencer noticed everything.

After that, he made sure to be careful.

Not obviously, not in a way that would make you feel singled out. Just small things—lowering his voice when he spoke to you, never raising it even when he got passionate about a subject (which, let’s be honest, was often). If the team was in a heated discussion, he’d subtly shift his body so he was blocking you from the worst of it.

He never asked about it. Never pried.

But you knew he knew.

And you were grateful.

It wasn’t until months later that you brought it up.

You and Spencer were sitting on his couch, legs stretched out over a mess of books and case files. The TV was on, playing some old sci-fi movie that neither of you were really paying attention to.

“I don’t think I ever said thank you,” you murmured.

Spencer blinked, looking up from the book in his lap. “For what?”

You hesitated.

“For… never shouting,” you admitted, your voice softer than before.

Spencer frowned slightly. “I wouldn’t have a reason to shout at you.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “But I mean, even when things get intense. Or frustrating. You always…” You gestured vaguely. “You just don’t.”

His expression shifted—understanding settling in like it always did when he pieced things together.

“I just don’t like it,” you said, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I never have.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, considering his words.

Then, gently, “Did something happen?”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t have to.

Spencer nodded, as if that was all he needed to know.

“I get it,” he said simply. “Loud voices can be overwhelming. They change the whole atmosphere of a room. Even if they’re not directed at you, it can still feel like a threat.”

Your breath caught slightly.

Because, yeah.

That was exactly it.

You glanced at him, and Spencer gave you a small, knowing smile. “It’s not the same thing,” he admitted, “but I don’t like shouting either. Growing up, I used to get overwhelmed in loud environments. Too much stimulation all at once.” He tapped his temple lightly. “My brain doesn’t filter external stimuli the way most people’s do. Everything just… comes in at the same volume.”

That made sense. You’d always known Spencer had a hard time with crowded spaces and loud noises.

“I just learned to cope with it,” he continued. “But I always preferred quiet.”

You studied him for a moment, warmth filling your chest. “Guess that’s why we get along so well.”

Spencer smiled. “Guess so.”

And that was it.

No prying. No pushing.

Just understanding.

Just Spencer.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

You never had to ask him to be gentle with his words.

He just was.

[themushroomgoesyeet]

Listen. I normally don't post on here about current news or politics because frankly it brings down my spirit and I don't enjoy consuming it. This blog is supposed to be my place of refuge from all the negativity, so even when I see posts about current politics I'll read them and move on.

Occasionally however, there are posts like this that I deeply feel need to be shared. As someone who has spent my entire life studying history, I know a dictator when I see one. Our current president may not be a Nazi, but he is the newest in history's line of dictators.

It's almost too easy to compare his actions to Hitler's, or Napoleon's, or Julius Caesar's. Let me just run down a list real quick:

He either threatens or sweet-talks politicians to work with him and do what he wants, as the governor above has stated

He is acknowledging the problems of the country, but instead of actually doing something about them he's blaming specific demographics and threatening to remove them

He's gathered a following of like-minded people throughout the country to support him and keep him in office

He is flagrantly misusing his control over the military and other armed forces, and has threatened multiple times to invade other countries under a seemingly charitable guise

Oh he threatens other world leaders too, and has expressed no problems with being good friends and allies with other dictators and potential Nazis

There's probably more I could list but I'll cap it here. This is exactly how Rome was able to successfully take over so many countries. This is exactly what allowed Napoleon to become Emperor and nearly conquer all of Europe. This is exactly what allowed Hitler to do the same, and how he convinced the people of Germany to turn against each other and turn their neighbors over to the gestapo.

The president has already started blaming certain demographics for the countries problems, how long before he begins mass deportations? How long before we are asked to turn in our neighbors to the police because of their heritage? How long before we get a repeat of stories like Anne Frank? How long before this conquest for racial purity starts wars with other countries?

All I know is that if I have to start turning in my neighbors for the color of their skin I will be leaving this country, and I pray the world will be smart enough not to join the new regime of American Nazis because I won't be coming back.

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[mournthebird]

Knots.

summary: You help the soldier with some self care.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Flashbacks of SA | Intimate handlers

a/n: Bit of a short one, but I thought helping him shave would be nice <3 And maybe trim his long hair a bit too. Two more chapters to go and I think that will be it for this series. I wrote this quick so please don't mind any errors. ;; wc: 3.1k

"Your hair has grown a bit."

Your voice cut through the air, startling him out of his previously zoned out mindset where his thoughts had been drifting aimlessly through memories and half-formed ideas. He blinked several times, slowly turning to look over at you with slightly unfocused eyes that gradually sharpened with awareness. It was then that he truly noticed his hair, for the first time in what felt like forever - the weight of it, the way it fell across his vision, the unkempt state it had fallen into. He hadn't really paid any attention to how he looked since he...well, he couldn't remember when. The days and months had blurred together into an indistinct haze.

"...sorry." He mumbled, the word coming out soft and uncertain, not exactly sure what else to say in response. You didn't sound like you were upset or berating him, which was a small comfort, but old habits died hard. He never got to tend to himself before, he wasn't allowed to - personal care had been a luxury far beyond his reach. You never asked him to look after himself either, so he wasn't sure what he could've done to avoid your comment, leaving him adrift in unfamiliar waters of self-care and personal autonomy.

"It's alright, don't apologize," your reassurance was nice, washing over him like a warm blanket and helping to ease some of the tension from his shoulders.

You gently reached out, your fingers carefully threading through his dark, unkempt hair. Over time, he had grown increasingly comfortable with your gentle touches, no longer tensing or pulling away when he knew your hands were approaching. The progress had been slow but steady - though he would still occasionally flinch if caught unaware by sudden contact, the reflexive response born from years of conditioning never failed to go away completely. In those moments, you would always take extra care to reassure him with soft words, reminding him that he was safe.

"I can trim it for you, if you want." You offered softly, studying the way his hair had grown past his collar. Your hand drifted downward, fingers ghosting along his jawline where several days' worth of stubble had accumulated. "And shave some of this," you added, feeling the rough, prickly texture beneath your fingertips. The soldier's own hand rose hesitantly to mirror your gesture, touching his jaw as he swallowed thickly, considering the offer.

"...if you want to." His voice was quiet, uncertain, still struggling with expressing his own desires.

"Do you want to?" You emphasized gently, wanting him to make the choice for himself.

"...yes." The word came out barely above a whisper, but it was decisive.

The ceramic sink gradually filled with warm, gently bubbling water as the fragrant soap and rich shaving cream created a luxurious foam inside it. You swished the gleaming razor through the water, the metal catching the bathroom light as you turned back to face the patient soldier. He sat perfectly poised on the wooden stool in the bathroom, his big blue eyes gazing up at you without much of an expression.

"Keep still alright?" You spoke in gentle, soothing tones, bringing the well-honed blades up to his stubbled cheek and carefully drawing them down to his defined jaw in smooth, measured strokes. Of course, Soldat remained absolutely motionless, like a masterfully carved statue perched on that little wooden stool, his posture relaxed yet perfectly controlled. He allowed you to delicately adjust his head to whatever angle was needed as you continued shaving his face, your movements precise and unhurried to make sure every swipe was perfect.

"Doing okay?" You asked gently, pausing to check in with him about halfway through the intimate ritual. The soldier lifted his gaze to meet yours, his expression almost innocently vulnerable, making your stomach suddenly flip with unexpected emotion. In all your time together, he had never looked at you quite like that before - with such openness and implicit trust.

You took a moment to admire his features in quiet appreciation - the strong, defined angle of his jawline that spoke of nobility, the soft pink hue of his perfectly shaped lips that almost held a permanent, precious pout, and those remarkable eyes that drew you in. Those eyes, windows to his soul, held such warmth and vitality that it made your heart ache. Despite all the pain and suffering he endured, despite every obstacle that could have dimmed their light...his eyes remained steadfastly, beautifully bright.

"Almost...done." The words left your lips in barely more than a whisper, gentle and soothing as you finished your careful ministrations. You took a warm, soft cloth and delicately dabbed his face dry, making sure every spot was attended to. You reached for the aftershave, applying it with gentle strokes across his smooth skin.

As your hand came to rest on his cheek, you found yourself lingering there longer than strictly necessary - drawn in by the warmth of his skin, unable and unwilling to break this moment of connection.

Your heart fluttered as you observed how he responded to your touch - the way he ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, pressed his cheek further into your palm, seeking more of that tender contact. It was a small gesture, but one that screamed at you in the quiet of the bathroom.

Focus, focus.

"Now let's see what we can do about that hair." You reluctantly pulled your hand away from his cheek, watching as his expression shifted - his brow furrowing deeply and lips turning downward in a small, almost imperceptible frown that tugged at something deep within your chest. The warmth of his skin lingered on your fingertips, a sensation you tried desperately to ignore.

No, you couldn't feel like this. It was wrong.

Moving behind him, you took to brushing out his hair first. Your hands worked with practice having to do this with your own hair, gently running the brush from the ends and gradually moving higher to ensure the least amount of discomfort when working through the stubborn knots. The methodical strokes seemed to calm you both. He sat perfectly still for you, but you could sense there was more he yearned for in your touch - an unspoken desire that radiated from him in waves.

He wanted you to hold him, to continue the gentle ministrations with his hair just as you were doing now, to show him that tenderness wasn't just a distant memory. Every careful stroke of the brush seemed to remind him of a truth he had long forgotten: that touch doesn't have to hurt, that it could be soft, nurturing, healing instead of harmful.

The man yanked its hair with savage force, causing sharp pain to radiate across its scalp. "I told you not to miss," the handler spoke with a familiar malice that it became familiar with. The spot where its hair was continuously yanked developed that persistent, throbbing ache that it desperately tried to push from its consciousness, knowing any reaction would only make things worse.

It couldn't flinch, wouldn't dare to show even the slightest reaction. HYDRA had made it clear what happened to assets that showed weakness, that dared to respond to discomfort. Even the smallest involuntary movement could result in severe consequences.

A gentle tug of the brush running through his hair pulled him abruptly from the dark memory, your soft and immediate apology working to ground him in the present moment, reminding him he was safe now. "Sorry, just found a stubborn one in here..." your caring voice helped chase away the lingering shadows of the past.

As he sat in the silence of the bathroom, his mind began to wander yet again, drifting through the corridors of his fractured memories like a lost ghost. His thoughts scattered like broken glass, shards between gentler memories with you - moments of peace and quiet understanding - against the more vicious ones that lurked in the shadows of his consciousness. Their dark tendrils constantly tried to wrap around and forcefully pull away all the lighter, precious memories he desperately held onto, attempting to corrupt them in classic HYDRA fashion.

Even still, it held onto him, refusing to let him go.

The soft, ambient light illuminating the bathroom in a gentle, warm glow caught his metal arm at just the right angle, creating a mesmerizing play of shadows across the surface. He found himself caught in an almost trance-like state, meticulously tracing the intricate grooves and carefully engineered plates with his eyes, his gaze tiredly half-lidded as he tried to focus his scattered thoughts by counting how many precise lines were drawn against his titanium forearm.

This handler was different from the others it had in the past.

He was unpredictable in his actions and reactions, displaying a volatility that made every interaction an exercise in cautious observation. It found this characteristic particularly distressing, as it undermined any attempt to establish reliable behavioral patterns.

The man exhibited a jarring duality in his demeanor - he could be loud and openly sadistic one moment, taking visible pleasure in displays of unnecessary cruelty, while in the next breath he would transform into something completely inverted.

His manipulation took on an almost hypnotic quality, reminiscent of a serpent's mesmerizing sway, as he would speak in soothing, honeyed tones while orchestrating harm with calculated precision. Like a constrictor coiling around its prey with deceptive gentleness, he would wrap his victims in a façade of care and comfort, all while administering his particular brand of venom - a poison that worked through words and actions rather than fangs, but was no less deadly for its subtlety.

A snake. That is how it described this man.

Sometimes beautiful to look at, but knowing the true nature of his scales, it knew better.

Then why did it fall for his sweet tone, why did it fall for the gentle touch?

Soldat blinked slowly, struggling to maintain focus on your gentle hands as you carefully brushed through his tangled hair, but he found his troubled mind inevitably wandering back to darker memories.

He ran his calloused fingers through its matted hair, feeling his way until he discovered the painful knot hidden at the base of its skull. His fingertips were uncomfortably warm and sticky with blood, but he purposefully ignored that sensation. He quite liked it, but held his tongue. As he roughly prodded at its injured head, examining the wound, the slight involuntary flinch it gave in response only caused his cruel smirk to grow wider with satisfaction.

He struck without warning or mercy. Like a perfectly trained rattlesnake that had been patiently coiled and waiting for precisely the right moment to unleash its deadly strike.

The handler's iron grip suddenly seized its hair, violently yanking backward with such unexpected force that it actually cried out in genuine pain this time, unable to maintain its usual stoic silence.

Why did it feel so much more vulnerable and powerless with this particular handler?? How did he possess such an uncanny ability to draw out its voice when others could not?

"Goddamn, babe. You're bleeding quite profusely now, aren't you? What did we discuss earlier about this situation, hm? No crying whatsoever. We simply cannot afford to keep weak assets in our organization - you understand that, don't you?" He maintained that eerily gentle tone he typically used when offering comfort to the thing, a purposeful torture that only intensified its mental confusion and emotional distress.

The asset writhed in discomfort, experiencing an excruciating burning sensation across its entire scalp that made it desperately yearn for solitude and rest. Sleep called to it like a siren song, but given its handler's current temperamental state, it knew that such relief would likely remain frustratingly out of reach.

The night before, it had been tasked with cleaning the entire arsenal belonging to the agents - a task that consumed countless hours just to achieve the required gleaming finish on each weapon. Even after completing such an exhaustive task, the asset wasn't granted even the briefest moment of respite, ordered to remain awake as punishment for a small misdemeanor it couldn’t even recall.

It harbored an overwhelming desire to beg for mercy. Every fiber of its being wanted to plead desperately with its handler for some small measure of compassion. However, such displays of weakness were strictly forbidden and promised a horrible punishment.

The soft, rhythmic snip of the scissors cutting through his hair acted as an anchor, helping to ground him in the present moment. You moved with care and gentleness, working to trim his hair back to that familiar length - the same as when you met, falling just shy of his shoulders. Your hands moved with a focused steadiness, fingers carefully carding through the strands while the comb followed in their wake, creating a gentle, repetitive pattern before the precise, delicate snip of the scissors would break through the quiet once more.

He made a conscious effort to focus on the floor tiles now, trying to count the individual squares, to trace their patterns with his mind. But there was only so long he could maintain that fragile concentration before the memory's dark tentacles began to wrap around him, inevitably dragging him back down into those depths he fought so hard to escape.

The comforting rhythm of the snipping gradually faded away, growing distant and muffled, as the harsh, commanding voice of his last handler in HYDRA took over, flooding his consciousness with unwanted recollections.

Hand after hand, yank after yank, a relentless rhythm of violation and control.

A different flavor of foul tasting fluid spread along its taste buds as the asset was kept down on its knees, forced into submission. The men surrounding it formed an impenetrable wall of bodies, barely giving it any room to move or breathe, pressing closer and closer until the weight of their presence crushed against its consciousness. It felt - wait…no. It quickly corrected itself - it didn't feel.

It didn't feel.

It didn't feel.

Bad asset. Disobedient asset. Failure of an asset.

It deserved this. This was necessary for its conditioning and punishment for ever developing feelings. It wasn't supposed to feel humiliation or be opposed to anything they do.

Assets don't have preferences.

Assets don't have desires.

Assets simply obey.

It licked their boots, it let them insert themselves without resistance, no matter how painful it was, no matter how much its body tried to reject the intrusion...it didn't feel. It couldn't feel. Assets don't have the luxury of feelings.

It did feel.

Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of conditioning and denial…it did feel.

The soft shudder that rippled through his broad shoulders suddenly broke your careful concentration, the final decisive snip of the scissors having just been completed moments ago. Your attention immediately shifted from the scattered clumps of dark hair on the floor to his hunched form, noting with concern how he seemed to physically withdraw into himself while perched uncertainly on the weathered wooden stool beneath him.

Despite his imposing physical presence and considerable stature that normally towered over your own frame, he had a peculiar way of carrying himself - shoulders drawn inward, head slightly bowed - as if he were trying to occupy as little space as possible.

"Soldat?" You asked softly, carefully making your way around to face him, your heart clenching at the sight that greeted you. His nose was red and running, skin mottled and blotchy, fresh tears carving glistening tracks down his trembling face. He remained frozen in that tense, hunched position on the stool, head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest, eyes squeezed firmly shut as if to block out the world around him.

"Hey, hey...what's the matter? Did you not want me to cut your hair?" You asked with gentle concern in your voice, reaching out with to brush aside the newly shortened bangs that had fallen forward to hide his eyes from your worried gaze. The dark strands were still slightly damp from the earlier wash, sliding easily between your fingers as you tried to establish some sort of connection with him.

You remained in patient silence, giving him the space and time to express himself naturally without any sense of obligation or hurry. Your fingers moved with gentle, soothing motions through his hair in a repetitive pattern, while your other hand occasionally lifted to tenderly dab away the moisture from his flushed cheeks and reddened nose with your sleeve. To your surprise, he accepted these gentle touches without any resistance or signs of discomfort, allowing himself to be comforted by your presence.

"...Н-Нет [N-No]," he finally managed to vocalize after several long moments, his voice emerging fragile and unsteady, trembling with each syllable. Though he had slipped back into his native Russian tongue, you found comfort in recognizing the simple word.

"Can you tell me what it is?" You inquired carefully, your hands moving to cradle his face between them. You made no attempt to direct his gaze upward, instead letting your palms rest against his skin with gentle reassurance, offering silent support through your touch.

He kept his eyes tightly closed, focusing intently on your hands as they rested on his face while your thumbs gently stroked back and forth across his cheekbones. They felt so different from what he had grown accustomed to - gentler, warmer, filled with an unfamiliar tenderness that made his breath catch slightly in his throat.

He remained silent, something you had come to expect from these sessions, though you couldn't help but wish he had grown comfortable enough to open up by now. Still, you quickly pushed aside these thoughts, knowing it was not your place to feel these selfish things when he was still so deeply hurting. No matter how well and gentle you were with your ministrations, you knew this kind of deep-seated pain and suffering wouldn't simply vanish overnight. These wounds needed time to heal, perhaps more time than either of you initially realized.

Your attention was suddenly drawn back up as his trembling hands wrapped around your smaller wrists, the contact unexpected but not unwelcome. The soldier finally opened those glistening eyes - pretty, baby blue eyes that seemed to hold a sea of unspoken emotions within their depths...

"I...I just...want to feel you." He whispered, the soft admission tumbling from his lips like a secret, making your heart equally speed up and ache all at once. His gaze was pleading and gentle, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw, as several strands of his disheveled hair fell into his face when he raised his head to look at you better. "...Пожалуйста [Please]."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover image from Pinterest. I do not claim as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar | @tummyyellin

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[littlelamy]

can you make a story where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her

lamy's notes: i feel like i should do a part 2—send a request if you want one!

you never thought you’d come back.

three years was a long time. long enough to build a new life, to convince yourself you were better off away from this place, from everything that once kept you tangled in its grip. long enough to pretend you had moved on.

but then your husband got a job offer in charleston, and suddenly, outer banks was just a short drive away.

and now you’re here. back where it all started.

“mommy, look!”

your daughter’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance over to see her pointing at a row of seashells scattered across the sand, eyes bright with excitement. your heart squeezes. she looks so much like him. blonde-ish hair, sharp blue eyes—features that don’t belong to your husband.

you force a smile, kneeling down beside her. “those are beautiful, baby.”

“can i take some home?” she asks, looking up at you expectantly.

before you can answer, a voice—deep, familiar, and entirely unexpected—cuts through the salty air.

“i think you’ll need a pretty big bag for all those.”

your breath catches. slowly, you rise to your feet, turning toward the voice you haven’t heard in three years.

rafe cameron.

he looks different. older. sharper in some ways, softer in others. but his eyes? they’re exactly the same. the same piercing blue, the same intensity that always made it hard to breathe when he looked at you.

“rafe,” you say, his name barely a whisper on your lips.

his gaze flickers to the little girl standing at your side, and you see it. the moment realization hits. the way his jaw tightens, his fingers clench.

“mommy, who’s that?” your daughter asks, tugging at your hand.

rafe swallows hard, tearing his eyes away from her to look at you instead. waiting. silently demanding an answer.

“he’s…” your voice trails off, the words catching in your throat. you glance at your daughter, then back at him. “he’s an old friend.”

his lips press into a thin line. he knows you’re lying. but he doesn’t push. not yet.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way your pulse is racing.

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “funny. i was about to ask you the same thing.”

you hesitate, glancing at your daughter before looking back at him. “we… moved back. my husband’s job—”

his expression darkens at the mention of your husband, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “your husband.”

there’s something bitter in his voice, something that makes your chest tighten. before you can respond, your daughter tugs at your hand again.

“mommy, can we go now?” she asks, oblivious to the tension crackling between you and rafe.

you nod quickly, eager to escape, but rafe steps forward, gaze locked onto yours. “we need to talk.”

there’s a part of you that wants to run. that wants to pretend this moment never happened. but deep down, you know you can’t.

because the past has finally caught up to you.

and rafe isn’t letting you go this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[robertsfloyd]

OMG!! PUPPIES IS EVERYTHING!! I want to see them taking care of their pups and how Carlos and Oscar react to that😭😭

I need more parts. If you can. Please and thank you🥺

i got soooo many requests for this one

cw: pregnancy, hybrid au, lando is a horny mutt

part one part two

your owner was furious. no, more tan furious. he wanted blood.

you whimpered as he pulled you through the hallway of the apartment complex. carlos didn't acknowledge you has he stopped in front of the door. apartment number 81.

"oscar!" he shouted as his fists pounded on the door. "open up!"

your ears were flat against your head as you whimpered. you hated it when carlos was scary like this.

but, the second he looked at you, his expression softened. "come here," he said gently and pulled you into him. his hand was on your stomach, not yet round with child, as he tucked your head against his chest. he didn't mean to scare you, didn't want to put you under any kind of stress.

but he couldn't help how angry he was.

even before carlos had knocked on the door, oscar's puppy was acting up. crying at the door, begging oscar to open it (he had been trained not to open it himself).

but then carlos knocked.

"she's there! she's there! she's there!" lando cried as oscar approached the door. he pulled it open, tried to open it just enough that lando could get out.

but he didn't get that lucky.

as soon as the door was open, lando was outside. he launched himself at you, wrapped his arms around you. you did the same, holding him as tightly as he was holding you.

it seemed almost mocking that his tail was hitting carlos's leg. he hooked his finger around the back of lando's shirt and tugged.

a whimper left his lips as he was pulled away from you. "fucking mutt," carlos growled, fist raised as if he was going hit lando.

"no!" you cried, trying to get between them. oscar grabbed lando, pulled him back into the apartment as you held carlos, whimpering as you nuzzled your head against his chest.

with lando safely behind him, oscar turned towards carlos. "good to see you too," he said through a breath.

"your mutt got my girl pregnant," he said, voice low.

oscar looked at you. his eyes flicked down to your stomach before he turned to lando. "seriously?" he asked as a smile crossed lando's face, proud of himself clearly. "you got her pregnant."

you answered for him, nodding. all you wanted to do was go towards lando, for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you close. for him to kiss you and bend you over the coffee table, rut into you until you were pregnant with another lot of his puppies.

"she's mine. my mate," lando said as he folded his arms over his chest. his tail was still wagging, eyes not leaving you. "why shouldn't i get her pregnant?"

oscar shook his head. "should have gotten you neutered when i got you," he mumbled and stood to the side.

you were properly looking at him now, oscar no longer between you. but you turned to carlos. "can i?" you asked, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes. "besides, you gotta sort things out with oscar, right?"

a sigh left carlos's lips. "go on, puppy. go to him."

you were running. in maybe three paces you had reached him, had thrown yourself into his arms. your lips were on him, fingers tangling through his curls. both of your tails wagged as you were utterly consumed by each other.

eyes shut, trying to get closer and closer. he pawed at your clothes and you tugged at his.

"okay, okay," either carlos or oscar said, but you couldn't tell who. couldn't really tell what they were saying, what it meant.

but, suddenly, you were pulled away from each other. "no more puppies for now, okay?" oscar said as he stared into his pups eyes. lando swallowed, nodded and was once again reaching for you.

"you're okay with this?" carlos asked as he rubbed at the back of your neck.

"yeah," you said quickly. "yeah. like he said, he's my mate."

mate. they couldn't exactly keep you away from each other now, could they.

as soon as they let go of the two of you, you were back in each others arms. kissing until the need from air pulled you away from each other. at least you weren't trying to get each other naked, for now.

"we're gonna have to get him some condoms," oscar mumbled.

"as soon as she's given birth, she's going on birth control," carlos grumbled.

they couldn't keep you away from each other, they knew that now.

i'm putting all the requests i got for puppies down here

thank you all for the love on puppies!! i love it too and i love having a community that will support my fics, no matter how strange they are!! i love you all

[mephisto-reporting]

Silk, Satin and Sensual - Caleb Edition

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Caleb. You can find all the other men's version here (along with Caleb's because I added that to it) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. . If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending pt.4 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: remus is definitely getting comfortable around you.

obs: this is part four of a series. here's part one and part five.

masterlist

It wasn’t just the Marauders who noticed—it was everyone.

Something was different between you and Remus.

Maybe it was the way you gravitated toward each other like magnets, always ending up sitting together, walking together, talking in hushed voices in the library. Maybe it was the way you touched him, casual and warm—your hand brushing his arm when you laughed, your head leaning against his shoulder when you were tired.

Or maybe it was the way Remus—who had never been one for public affection—let you do all of it.

One afternoon, you were sitting outside in the courtyard with Lily and Marlene, flipping through a magazine Lily had brought from home. The sun was warm, and the three of you were giggling over some ridiculous article about how to “win the heart of a wizard.”

“Honestly, who writes this nonsense?” Marlene scoffed, shaking her head. “Step one: Laugh at all his jokes, even if they’re bad? What if he’s not funny?”

You laughed. “Then he’s not the one.”

Lily grinned. “You’re ruthless.”

“I have standards,” you said dramatically, flipping the page.

“Oi, are you lot gossiping again?”

You looked up just as Remus appeared, hands in his pockets, looking far too amused.

Marlene smirked. “Always.”

You smiled, immediately moving over so he could sit beside you. The second he did, you wrapped your arms around his waist in a quick hug, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Hi, Rem.”

He huffed a laugh. “Hi.”

Lily and Marlene exchanged very obvious glances.

Remus was stiff for a millisecond—but then he relaxed, resting his arm behind you on the bench. He wasn’t much for this—for letting people be so openly affectionate with him—but with you… with you, he didn’t mind.

In fact, he liked it.

“So,” Lily said, giving you both a knowing look. “What exactly is going on between you two?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Marlene grinned. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You’ve been practically attached at the hip.”

Remus sighed. “Not this again.”

Lily smirked. “It’s not just us. Everyone has noticed.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe we just like each other’s company.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Like each other’s company?”

Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am not having this conversation.”

Lily giggled. “You already are.”

You patted his knee playfully. “It’s okay, Rem, they’re just curious.”

He definitely blushed at the nickname—again—and Marlene definitely caught it.

“Ohhh, Rem?” she teased.

Lily gasped, clasping her hands together. “That’s adorable.”

Remus sighed in suffering. “Merlin, help me.”

You just laughed, leaning into him a little more. “It’s okay, Rem, I’ll protect you.”

He gave you a flat look. “You’re the cause of all this.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

Lily and Marlene howled with laughter.

Lily was practically vibrating with excitement at this point. “Oh, this is too good,” she said, nudging Marlene. “James is going to lose his mind when he hears about this.”

Remus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For the love of Merlin, please don’t bring Prongs into this.”

“Oh, but I must,” Lily said with a mockingly serious expression. “It is my duty as his girlfriend to provide him with quality gossip.”

You giggled, nudging Remus with your shoulder. “It’s okay, Rem, you know James will just be happy you’re getting some attention.”

Marlene gasped dramatically. “She’s got a point! You are the most mysterious Marauder. It’s about time we figure out what’s going on inside that broody little head of yours.”

Remus sighed, looking to the sky like he was asking for divine intervention. “I don’t brood.”

You snorted. “You absolutely brood.”

“I think a better word would be ‘broodingly handsome,’” Marlene said with a teasing smirk.

Remus groaned. “Merlin’s beard.”

Lily clapped her hands together. “Okay, okay, but seriously. You two are always together, always sitting next to each other, always whispering about Merlin-knows-what—”

“Probably about books,” Marlene cut in.

Lily nodded. “Definitely about books. But that’s beside the point. Look at you two!” She gestured between you and Remus, who was still sitting rigidly beside you, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“I am looking,” Marlene said, tapping her chin. “And you know what I see?”

Remus tensed. “Please don’t say it.”

“A couple,” Marlene said smugly.

You laughed as Remus let out the longest, most dramatic exhale of his life. “We are not a couple!” he protested, clearly exasperated.

Marlene shrugged. “Sure, you aren’t.”

Lily grinned. “But you could be.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, but you masked it with a playful smirk. “Are you two trying to set us up?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t have to if you two just admitted what’s already obvious,” Lily teased.

Remus scoffed. “Nothing is obvious.”

Lily and Marlene exchanged a glance before Marlene turned back to him, smirking. “Remus, darling, you literally let her cuddle you in public. And you don’t let anyone do that.”

“I—” Remus paused, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for a good argument.

You just smiled up at him. “Do you mind when I do it?”

His gaze flicked to you, and in that moment, he looked completely thrown off. His lips parted slightly, his expression softening. “No,” he admitted, voice quieter now.

Marlene gasped, smacking Lily’s arm. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t mind.”

Lily grinned. “Oh, I heard it loud and clear.”

Remus groaned again. “Can we talk about something else?”

You giggled, deciding to take pity on him. “Alright, alright, we’ll stop.”

Marlene pouted. “But we were having so much fun.”

Lily nudged her. “We should probably give them a break. Poor Remus looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust.”

Remus sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Lily leaned in with a smirk. “For now.”

He shot her a look, but she just grinned innocently.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop smiling. As much as Remus acted exasperated, you could feel the warmth in his body beside you, the way he didn’t pull away from you despite the teasing.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

Later that afternoon, after Lily and Marlene had left—giggling and whispering conspiratorially, no doubt plotting more ways to tease him—Remus and you were left alone under the warm sunlight. The courtyard was quieter now, students either inside or spread out across the grounds. It was peaceful.

You, of course, took full advantage of the moment. You leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing happily. “Peace and quiet at last.”

Remus huffed a soft laugh. “For now.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “You act like you don’t secretly enjoy it when they tease you.”

He gave you a flat look. “I don’t.”

You grinned and, without thinking much, leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The moment your lips touched his skin, you felt him stiffen slightly, and when you pulled back, you caught the pink dusting his cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you.

“You can’t just—” He exhaled. “Do that without warning.”

You tilted your head innocently. “Why not?”

“Because,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s… unexpected.”

You smiled. “So I can do it as long as I warn you first?”

He blinked, processing, then groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

You giggled, reaching for his hand. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he curled his fingers lightly around yours, tracing absentminded patterns against your skin. You swore you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles.

“I like this,” you murmured.

He glanced at your joined hands, then back at you. His lips twitched. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You don’t mind?”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “No. I’m getting used to you, I think.”

You beamed. “Getting used to me?”

He smirked. “That’s what I said.”

You pretended to think. “Does that mean I can hold your hand whenever I want?”

He gave you a dry look, but his fingers didn’t move from yours. “I suppose.”

“And hug you whenever I want?”

A pause. Then, quieter, “Yes.”

Your heart did a little flip.

You leaned closer, lowering your voice to a playful whisper. “And steal a kiss on the cheek every now and then?”

His face turned red immediately. He groaned. “Why are you like this?”

You grinned. “You didn’t say no.”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t make any attempt to move away from you. In fact, he let his hand slip down from the bench to rest lightly on your back, his fingers tracing gentle patterns there.

You felt your heart melt at the gesture. He was getting more comfortable with you, letting himself enjoy these quiet, affectionate moments.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his, playing with them absently. “You know,” you mused, “I really like being around you.”

Remus let out a breath, looking down at your joined hands. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhm. You’re my favorite person.”

He scoffed, but you didn’t miss the way his grip on your hand tightened just slightly. “Now I know you’re lying.”

You gasped dramatically. “Remus Lupin, do you doubt my affections?”

He smirked. “I don’t doubt that you like annoying me.”

You pouted. “That’s just a bonus.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “You really are something else.”

You beamed. “And yet, here you are, voluntarily spending time with me.”

He sighed, feigning exasperation. “Unfortunately.”

You gasped again, reaching out to shove him playfully.

Remus laughed, catching your wrist before you could retreat, holding your hand in his once more. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, his expression softening. “I do like having you around, though,” he admitted quietly. “Even if you are an absolute menace.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his voice. “You’re getting so soft, Rem,” you teased, nudging him.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ll ruin my reputation if you keep saying things like that.”

You grinned. “Too late.”

Remus shook his head, but there was a fondness in his eyes as he looked at you. The castle grounds were quiet now, the sky streaked with the warm colors of sunset, and for the first time in a long time, he felt… peaceful.

And it was all because of you.

His soft spot.

And it wasn’t just in the courtyard.

It was everywhere.

In the Great Hall, when you’d sneak bits of food onto Remus’s plate because you knew he wouldn’t eat enough otherwise.

In the library, when he’d rest his chin on his hand and watch you take notes, a small, soft smile on his lips.

During patrols, when he was tired and quiet, and you’d loop your arm through his and walk beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe—just maybe—Remus was getting used to having you around.

Like how, when you both studied together, you’d casually lean your knee against his, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like how, whenever you greeted him, you’d rest a hand on his arm or tug gently at his sleeve to get his attention.

Remus wasn’t the type to ask for affection.

Not because he didn’t want it—Merlin, he wanted it—but because he never thought he deserved it.

But you? You gave it freely.

And every time you touched him—whether it was an absentminded brush of your fingers through his hair, the warm squeeze of your hand in his, or the way you hugged him without hesitation—he never let it slip away too quickly.

If he could make it last forever, he would.

And right at this moment, it was exactly what he was doing.

The library was quiet that afternoon, only the occasional soft murmur of students and the scratch of quills breaking the silence. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patterns across the wooden tables and shelves. The smell of parchment and ink mixed with the faint scent of dust—old books, well-worn and well-loved.

At one of the many study tables, you and Remus sat side by side, books spread out in front of you.

Well.

You were studying.

Remus? Not so much.

He had started with the intent to read, truly, but then you had very absentmindedly begun to run your fingers through his hair, and—well.

That was the end of that.

He had gone still at first, unsure if you even realized what you were doing. But then you did it again, lightly twirling a lock of his hair between your fingers before combing it back, and Merlin help him, his brain just shut off.

His book—Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts—lay open in his lap, but he hadn’t absorbed a single word in the past five minutes.

Instead, he sat there, head slightly tilted toward you, absolutely enthralled by the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair.

He could get used to this.

(If he let himself, that was.)

You hummed softly, eyes scanning your own book as you gently tugged at a slightly tangled strand near the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you mused, voice absentminded and warm.

Remus blinked, trying to pull himself out of his daze. “Mhm.”

You chuckled, still playing with his hair. “Should I stop?”

“No.”

The word left his mouth far too quickly. His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean—uh—only if you want to.”

You smirked, closing your book and turning your attention fully to him. “So you do like it.”

Remus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I regret everything.”

“You should regret keeping this weakness hidden from me,” you teased, fingers resuming their lazy motions in his hair.

He grumbled something under his breath, which only made you grin.

“You’re like a cat, Rem,” you mused, thoroughly enjoying how flustered he looked.

Remus huffed. “I am not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally leaning into it.”

He immediately straightened, sitting up stiffly. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh?” You let your hand drop from his hair completely.

Remus froze.

And then, to your complete amusement, he shifted ever so slightly toward you, as if expecting your hand to return.

You gasped dramatically. “You are a cat.”

Remus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Shut up.”

You laughed, leaning into him just enough that your shoulder pressed against his. “It’s okay, Rem. I think it’s cute.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “…You’re mocking me.”

“Only a little.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move away.

Instead, after a long pause, he hesitated before mumbling, “You, uh… you can keep doing it. If you want.”

You bit back a smile, letting your fingers slip back into his hair.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

And if Remus spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to read while secretly basking in your touch…

Well.

That was between him and his book.

As the afternoon wore on, the quiet hum of the library surrounded you both. Remus had long given up on pretending to read, his book now serving as a convenient prop to cover his flushed face. His head tilted slightly toward you with each gentle motion of your fingers in his hair, and he couldn’t help the small, contented sigh that escaped his lips.

You, on the other hand, were completely aware of how much you were making him squirm, but you liked this side of him. The side that wasn’t so guarded, the side that didn’t try to hide how much he liked it. You found yourself smirking, amused by how easily you could get him flustered without even trying.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the silence. “What exactly did you think you were going to do in this library? Honestly, I thought you were here to study.”

Remus let out a small, embarrassed laugh, still not looking at you. “I was,” he muttered. “I had every intention to, but… I’m kind of distracted.”

You chuckled. “By me?”

He shifted uncomfortably, still not looking at you, though his shoulders were visibly relaxed. “Maybe,” he admitted. “You’ve got… you’ve got a way of making it hard to focus.”

You hummed thoughtfully, giving him a teasing look. “So I’m distracting, am I?”

Remus nodded, but it was almost as if he didn’t trust himself to say more.

You leaned in slightly, your voice turning more playful. “Well, I’m glad I can be of service.”

He turned his head just enough to meet your eyes, his own gaze full of warmth. “You’re always of service,” he said softly, as if the words just slipped out before he could stop them.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, the teasing atmosphere melted away. You kept your hand in his hair, now just running your fingers through it absentmindedly, unsure of what to say in response to such an unexpected confession.

After a long pause, you finally smiled, trying to keep things light again. “You know, if I keep doing this, you might start expecting it.”

Remus chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I already do.”

That answer caught you off guard, and your breath hitched, your fingers faltering for a second. You weren’t expecting such a direct response, especially not from him. But the way he was looking at you—vulnerable, yet trusting—made your chest tighten with something that you couldn’t quite name.

You swallowed, forcing a smile. “Well, tough luck, Moony,” you teased, pulling your hand back to flip open your own textbook. “You’re just going to have to settle for me occasionally distracting you.”

Remus smiled, a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes as he finally glanced down at his book, but his fingers reached out to brush against your own lightly. “I think I can handle that.”

For the rest of the time in the library, the two of you didn’t speak much. There was a comfort in the silence now—an unspoken understanding between you both that didn’t need to be voiced. You went back to your studying, and Remus tried, very half-heartedly, to focus on his own work, though the quiet moments of touch between you two lingered, unspoken, in the air.

Even without words, you both knew that something had shifted, that something between you had changed. It was subtle, small, but it was there. And in that moment, as you sat next to him in the stillness of the library, it felt like everything was perfectly in place.

Moony eyes.

At the Gryffindor common room, the boys and you were chatting. Sirius was sprawled on the sofa, while James and Peter were seated at the floor. Sharing a very small armchair, were you and Remus.

The boys have been teasing you for weeks now, and they certainly wouldn't stop. Maybe it was their own unique way to get both of you together.

"Merlin’s beard," Sirius groaned, dramatically leaning back against the couch. "Will you two just snog already and put the rest of us out of our misery?"

Remus choked on his own spit.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks. "What?!"

James cackled, smacking the table. "He’s got a point, mate. You two have been making moony eyes at each other all dinner."

Peter snorted, laughing so hard he actually let himself lay on the floor. "Moony eyes—"

Remus, who was still recovering from nearly dying via choking, cleared his throat. "I have not been making ‘moony eyes.’"

Sirius smirked. “Oh, but you have, Moony. Don’t even try to deny it.”

James nodded enthusiastically. “You should see yourself, mate. Every time she talks, you stare at her like she hung the bloody stars.”

You felt your face heat up even more, sneaking a glance at Remus. His ears were red, and he looked absolutely scandalized.

“I do not,” he insisted.

Peter, ever the instigator, grinned. “Oh, you definitely do. It’s almost poetic, really.”

Sirius leaned forward, grinning mischievously. “And don’t think we haven’t noticed you two sneaking off to be alone. What do you do when you disappear together, hm?”

Remus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Merlin, give me strength.”

You decided to join in on the teasing, turning to Remus with a playful smile. “Well, Rem, should we tell them?”

Remus peeked at you through his fingers, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare.”

That only made Sirius more interested. “Oh, now I need to know.”

James gasped dramatically. “Are you two secretly snogging? Is that what this is? Betrayal! I thought we were friends, Moony!”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, we’re not snogging, James.”

“Not yet,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

Remus gave him a deadly glare. “Padfoot—”

Sirius grinned. “What? Just stating facts, mate.”

You smirked. “You lot are awfully invested in our nonexistent love life.”

James scoffed. “Oh, it’s very much existent. Just painfully slow.”

Peter nodded sagely. “At this rate, we’ll all be graduated before you two finally get together.”

Remus threw his head back in exasperation. “You are all insufferable.”

Sirius nudged him with his elbow. “Oh, come on, Moony, admit it. You fancy her.”

Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not how I pictured my evening going.”

James grinned, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "We’re just saying, you two might as well get it over with before we all go mad."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "You lot are insufferable."

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. "You wound me!"

Peter snickered. "Pretty sure Remus is the only one wounding himself—what with all the choking and blushing."

Remus scowled at them all. "I do not blush."

James pointed at him. "Your ears are bright red, mate."

Remus groaned, covering his ears with his hands.

You decided to fight fire with fire. You turned to Sirius, an innocent smile on your lips. "Alright, if we’re playing this game—when was the last time you went five minutes without flirting with someone, Black?"

Sirius smirked. "Oh, deflecting, are we?" He wagged a finger at you. "Classic move. But it won’t save you, darling."

James laughed, nudging him. "To be fair, he’s got you there. You are terrible at subtlety."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, and you lot are subtle?"

"Of course," Peter said with a straight face. "We are the very definition of subtle."

James nodded solemnly. "Masters of it, really."

Sirius threw an arm over James’ shoulder. "Stealthy as shadows, my dear."

Remus exhaled sharply, dropping his hands from his face. "I hate every single one of you."

You grinned, nudging him playfully. "Even me?"

His expression softened immediately—traitorously. "Especially you," he muttered, though the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

Sirius groaned again. "See?! Look at that! You two are disgusting!"

James shook his head. "Unbelievable. Just snog already."

Remus groaned. “Merlin, just end me now.”

You, smiling brighter than ever, simply laced your fingers through his. He squeezed your hand, and though he was still flustered beyond belief, he didn’t let go.

Sirius gasped dramatically. “Oh, hand-holding! Scandalous!”

James pretended to faint.

Peter shook his head. “We’ve lost him to romance.”

Remus sighed, but there was a small, secret smile playing at his lips as he looked at you. “I really do hate them.”

You squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “I don’t know, I kind of love them.”

He exhaled, glancing at his friends—who were now reenacting some over-the-top, tragic love story in the middle of the common room.

He looked back at you, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Trying to protect you.

The change was subtle at first. Little things.

Remus stopped sitting so close to you, stopped letting his fingers brush against yours when you reached for something at the same time. He no longer rested his arm behind you on the couch or leaned into you when you laughed. The warmth you had grown used to—the easy comfort of having him near—was fading, like a candle slowly burning out.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then, he started avoiding you entirely.

You barely saw him at breakfast. He was quick to leave after class. When you sat beside him in the common room, he’d suddenly remember he had something to do—homework, patrols, an excuse that never quite made sense.

But the worst part? You didn’t change.

You were still as sweet as ever, still beaming up at him when you saw him in the hallways. Still sliding into the seat beside him in the common room, pressing a chocolate bar into his hand with a soft, “You look like you need this.”

You still reached for his hand when you laughed at something stupid Sirius said. Still looked at him with those bright, trusting eyes, like he wasn’t something to be afraid of.

It made him feel sick.

Because he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you.

And yet… he craved you.

Your touch. Your warmth. The way you made him feel like he was more than just scars and sharp edges.

But the full moon was too close now.

He could feel it—coiling in his gut, burning behind his ribs. It made him restless, short-tempered. His body ached, his appetite grew insatiable, his thoughts were muddled with something too sharp, too wild.

And you were still here, making everything harder.

One evening, after dinner, he was sitting in the common room, staring into the fire, trying to drown out the pounding in his head. You came in, looking as radiant as ever, your face lighting up the second you saw him.

“Rem!” you chirped, flopping onto the couch beside him without hesitation.

His jaw clenched. He didn’t turn to look at you.

Undeterred, you nudged his arm. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

He swallowed hard. “Just tired.”

You hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, you leaned against him slightly, just enough for your shoulder to brush his.

“Wanna help me with my Potions essay?” you asked, your voice light. “Slughorn is going to hex me if I mess up another ingredient list.”

Remus should have said no. Should have told you to find Lily or James or anyone else.

But instead, he found himself glancing at you.

And Merlin, you were looking at him like he hung the bloody stars in the sky.

His throat felt tight.

“I—” He forced himself to look away, pushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sure.”

Your smile was blinding, and something inside his chest ached.

He was being so selfish.

Letting you sit so close. Letting you touch him. Letting himself want you when he knew what was going to happen in just a few days.

But he wasn’t strong enough to pull away.

Not yet.

You didn’t seem to notice how stiff he was, or if you did, you didn’t mention it. Instead, you just grinned, pulling out your Potions book and parchment as if nothing had changed. As if he wasn’t trying to put distance between you.

Remus hated it.

Hated how easy it was for you to sit beside him, to nudge his knee with yours like you always did. Hated how much he liked it.

You were making this impossible.

“Okay,” you sighed, flipping through the pages. “Tell me why I always forget the difference between powdered root of asphodel and essence of dittany.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. “Because you have the attention span of a flobberworm.”

You gasped dramatically. “Rude.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. Stop it.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself back into the walls he’d been building around you. “Powdered root of asphodel is a sleeping agent,” he muttered, shifting away slightly. “Essence of dittany is for healing.”

You pursed your lips, scribbling it down on your parchment. “See? This is why I keep you around.”

A warmth spread through his chest before he could shove it down.

You always said things like that so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be in your life. Like you didn’t realize how dangerous it was to be near him.

He should have ignored it. Should have let the moment pass.

But when he glanced at you, you were already looking at him—chin propped in your hand, eyes soft and full of something he didn’t deserve.

He swallowed hard. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You blinked, surprised. “Like what?”

Like I’m worth something.

Instead of answering, he shook his head, looking back at your parchment. “Just… keep writing.”

You didn’t press him. You never did.

You just smiled a little, amused, and got back to your notes.

And Remus felt his resolve crumbling.

Because the full moon was closing in, and he was supposed to be pushing you away.

But you weren’t letting him.

And deep down, he knew—no matter how hard he tried—he didn’t want you to.

Someone who stays.

Now Remus was fully avoiding you.

At first, it was subtle—excuses about needing to study, leaving the Great Hall earlier than usual, disappearing between classes. But then, it became obvious. He stopped waiting for you after class. He no longer sought you out in the courtyard or library. He barely spoke to you.

And you weren’t having it.

So, when he slipped out of the Great Hall after barely touching his food, you followed.

Remus walked with his hands shoved in his pockets, head down, as he made his way toward the Astronomy Tower. You didn’t even hesitate to chase after him.

"Remus!"

He froze for a fraction of a second before continuing up the stairs.

You huffed, quickening your pace. “You are aware that ignoring me won’t actually make me go away, right?”

Remus exhaled through his nose. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“You are,” you countered, finally reaching his side. “You’ve been running off at every opportunity like I’m some horrible curse you need to escape from.”

He swallowed, still refusing to look at you.

"Rem," you tried softly.

His shoulders tensed.

You stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he muttered, glancing toward the night sky.

You frowned. “You’re isolating yourself, and don’t you dare tell me you always do this, because we both know that’s a lie.”

Remus exhaled, jaw clenched. “Maybe you should stop worrying about me.”

You recoiled slightly, but quickly narrowed your eyes. “Like hell I will.”

Remus rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Good,” you snapped. “You’re pushing me away, and I don’t know why.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You should.”

Your chest tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” Remus cut himself off, shaking his head. “You know something’s wrong. You know I’m not—” He inhaled sharply. “I just— I need you to stop.”

You blinked. “Stop what?”

Remus let out a humorless laugh. “Caring.”

Your stomach twisted.

“Because if you keep caring,” he said, voice hoarse, “you’re going to get hurt.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Remus…”

“I can’t—I won’t let that happen.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He clenched his fists. “I do.”

“No, you don’t,” you shot back. “Because I choose to care about you. I choose to be here.”

His expression faltered, pain flickering in his eyes.

You exhaled, voice softer. “Rem… why won’t you just let me be here for you?”

He turned away. “Because one day, you’ll hate me for it.”

Your heart ached.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. “You say that now.”

You took a deep breath, then—without hesitation—wrapped your arms around him.

Remus stiffened.

But you didn’t let go.

You held him tighter, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands trembled at his sides. “You should.”

“I won’t.”

He let out a shaky breath.

And slowly—so slowly—you felt his arms wrap around you, his grip hesitant, as if he was afraid you’d vanish the moment he touched you.

But you didn’t.

And neither did he.

Remus held you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t desperate, but it was cautious—like he wasn’t sure if he deserved this moment.

You weren’t having that.

You tightened your arms around him, pressing closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat was fast, too fast. You didn’t know if it was from nerves or something else entirely, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to know—really know—that you weren’t leaving.

His fingers twitched against your back. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you murmured.

He shook his head against you. “I can’t.”

You exhaled, running a soothing hand up and down his back. “Then I’ll wait.”

Remus stiffened. “You shouldn’t.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your arms still around him, refusing to let go. His face was guarded, carefully blank, but his eyes—those soft brown eyes—were filled with emotion.

“Why not?” you whispered.

His jaw tightened. “Because I’m not worth waiting for.”

Your heart ached. “That’s not your decision to make.”

He looked away, his grip on you loosening, but you refused to let him slip away.

“Remus.” You gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. His skin was cool beneath your fingertips, and he tensed under your touch. “You don’t get to decide what you’re worth to me. And right now? Right now, I’m telling you that you’re worth everything.”

His breath hitched.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to,” you continued softly. “You don’t have to explain why you disappear every month, or why you come back looking like you fought the bloody Whomping Willow. You don’t have to tell me why you think pushing me away will keep me safe.” You swallowed, thumb brushing against his cheek. “But just because you won’t tell me, doesn’t mean I don’t see you, Rem.”

His fingers curled into the fabric of your robes.

“I see you,” you whispered. “And I’m not afraid.”

Remus let out a shaky breath. He looked so tired, so torn. And yet, for the first time in days, he wasn’t running.

You watched as his resolve cracked—just slightly, just enough. His shoulders sagged, and before you knew it, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Your heart clenched as you felt his breath against your skin, uneven and vulnerable. You rubbed soothing circles into his back, holding him close, grounding him.

“Is it really so impossible to believe,” you murmured, “that someone could stay?”

Remus let out a bitter laugh. “For me? Yes.”

You frowned, tightening your grip around him. “Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

He let out a soft, shaky exhale. His arms wrapped around you fully this time, holding on like he was finally allowing himself to believe—even if just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, you meant it.

And you did.

You always would.

—— 🌙 ——

Notes from the author:

Hello my favourite people!

Made extra fluff for you, our Moony deserves some love! (Even though he doesn't admit it)

Also, did you notice that the reader, who always does amazing in potions, is asking his help with it? 🫢

And thanks for all the amazing comments, you have me smiling like a fool! 🤍

Hope you like this part as much as i did! (Probably is my favourite till now)

See you soon!

Taglist: @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @deathmybride @nerdbirdsworld @wolfstarsprongs @mischievousmoony @httpvomitello @sophie-0012 @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit @msfandomsblog @starofthedawn @malenk @diiyaa @theonyxstate (if you want to be included in the taglist, let me know!)

[amourquinn]

𝐋𝐃𝐑 ; quinn hughes ( drabble ) 𝟏𝟖+

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 622

genre : fluff, smut long distance relationship warnings : phone sex, cuss words

summary : separated by distance, you and quinn share an intimate charged phone call, expressing your longing for each other

「 author’s note 」 this is my first time writing smut im in heat Help

you lay in bed, the soft sheets cool against your heated skin, the glow of your phone screen illuminating your face in the dim light of your bedroom. quinn was propped against his headboard, shirtless, his hair tousled from his restless hands running through it. his eyes were dark, his expression unreadable as he watched you.

“i can’t stop thinking about you,” quinn murmured, his voice rough, thick with something you knew all too well.

you swallowed, shifting against the pillows. “yeah?”

he nodded. “every night. i hate sleeping without you.”

your lips parted, your pulse quickening. “me too, baby.”

quinn exhaled sharply, his gaze dragging over the screen, taking you in. the strap of your satin camisole had slipped off your shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of your collarbone. your hair was a little messy from tossing and turning, your lips slightly swollen from biting them.

“you look so fucking good right now,” he muttered, his voice lower now. “wish i could touch you.”

you let out a soft breath, warmth curling in your stomach. “tell me how you’d touch me.”

quinn’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with heat. “you sure, sweetness?”

you nodded, fingers grazing your stomach, teasing yourself with the anticipation of what was to come. “yeah.”

quinn let out a slow exhale. “i’d start by kissing you, real slow,” he murmured. “dragging my lips down your neck, sucking just enough to make you whimper for me.”

you swallowed hard, your thighs pressing together. “you know i would.”

he smirked, his voice dropping lower. “then i’d take my time undressing you. i’d lay you down and run my hands all over that pretty body of yours, make you shiver.”

a soft whimper escaped your lips, and quinn groaned in response.

“are you touching yourself, baby?” he asked, his voice thick.

you bit your lip, letting your fingers dip beneath the covers. “mhm.”

quinn let out a low, needy sound. “fuck. let me see you.”

you hesitated for half a second before tilting the phone slightly, just enough for him to see the way your fingers traced slow, teasing patterns over your skin. quinn’s breath hitched, his grip on the phone tightening.

“y/n…” his voice was strained.

“show me, too,” you whispered.

quinn adjusted his phone just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the way his hand moved over his stomach, lower, his muscles tensing beneath his touch.

the tension crackled between you, your breaths coming heavier, softer moans spilling into the quiet night as you guided each other through the distance. quinn’s voice was raw, rough, laced with need as he whispered exactly what he would be doing if he were there, how good he’d make you feel.

your pleasure built with every word, every sound he made, until the heat inside you became unbearable. “quinn,” you whimpered, teetering on the edge.

“let go, sweetness,” he murmured. “come for me.”

your body arched, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you barely registered quinn groaning your name as he followed right after.

the only sound left between you was your uneven breathing.

after a moment, quinn chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “i think i need a flight first thing in the morning.”

you let out a breathless laugh. “you say that every time.”

“yeah, well,” he smirked, “one of these times, i’m not gonna be joking.”

you smiled, eyes heavy with exhaustion but heart full. “i hope not.”

quinn’s expression softened, his voice turning gentle. “go to sleep, baby. i’ll stay on the phone.”

“promise?” you murmured, already drifting.

“always, sweetness.”

and with that, you fell asleep to the sound of quinn’s breathing, feeling closer to him than ever.

© amourquinn

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wer you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke a bit more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me for a bit” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to your house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heat stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night. 

[reidmarieprentiss]

First Time For Everything

Summary: Spencer is worried he isn't experienced enough for you; you're glad he hasn't made a move yet.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst, suggestive content (16+)

Warnings/Includes: virgin Spencer, talks of virginity, past of being used for sex, everyone is insecure, Derek being the best wingman

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: oh to not be used for sex ... i wish baby

main masterlist

"Hey, Morgan, can I talk to you about something?" Spencer asks as he slides into the seat across from Derek on the jet.

Derek puts his phone down, glancing up at him. They're the first and only ones on board so far. "Yeah, kid, what's up?"

Spencer hesitates for a second before shrugging. "Well… I started seeing someone."

"Aye, Reid, good for you!" Derek grins, leaning over the table to give Spencer a light punch on the shoulder.

"Ha, thanks…" Spencer chuckles, rubbing at the spot where Derek hit. His amusement fades as he shifts in his seat.

Derek immediately notices the change in his demeanor and furrows his brows. "Is there something wrong with her… or him?"

"No… it's just that—" Spencer exhales, hesitating before shaking his head. "No, it's fine. Never mind. Pretend I didn't mention it."

"Pretty boy, don't be like that," Derek presses, leaning in slightly. "Come on, talk to me."

Spencer takes a deep breath before starting again. "It's just… I think she's more… sexually advanced than me," he mumbles, his face flushing as he drops his gaze down the aisle.

Derek raises an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk. "Ohhh," he drags out the sound, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. "So, what, she got you out here feeling like a rookie, huh?"

Spencer groans and rubs his face with both hands. "I don't know, I just— I feel like she knows so much more than I do in that… department, and I don't want to disappoint her." His voice drops to a whisper, his fingers still covering his face.

Derek chuckles, shaking his head. "Reid, man, first off, if she's with you, she's obviously into you for more than just that. You think she's keeping score or something?"

Spencer peeks at him through his fingers before lowering his hands and sending Derek an unamused look. "Thanks."

"Come on, kid, you know what I mean," Derek says, rolling his eyes.

Spencer sighs, still looking incredibly uncomfortable. "I mean… maybe not exactly keeping score, but she just—she's confident. She's comfortable in her own skin, and I feel like… I don't know. I might not meet her expectations."

"Do you think she has expectations? Have you talked to her about it?" Derek asks, his tone calm but probing.

Spencer shrugs. "She knows she wasn't my first kiss."

"Alright, Reid." Derek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table between them. "You don't have to answer, but just know—I'm not judging."

Spencer shifts uncomfortably. "Okay…"

Derek tilts his head slightly, watching him. "Are you a virgin?"

Spencer's entire face ignites in a deep, burning flush. He feels the heat creep down his neck, his ears practically throbbing. He lets out a humorless laugh, looking away toward the jet window. "Yeah," he admits, his voice quieter than before.

Derek lets out a low whistle, nodding thoughtfully. "Okay, I hear you. You're worried you ain't got enough experience to keep up with her."

Spencer exhales, relieved that Derek actually understands. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Does she know that? Did you tell her you're a virgin?" Derek asks, his voice still even, not pushing too hard.

"No," Spencer mutters, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Derek questions again, still using that gentle tone, not teasing, just curious.

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's embarrassing, man," he grumbles. "I'm 27 years old."

Derek watches him with an understanding expression. "Reid, come on. Nothing is embarrassing about that. It's not a race."

Spencer waves him off, ready to drop the whole conversation, when Derek leans in slightly, his smirk softening into something more reassuring. "Listen, man, confidence doesn't come from experience alone. It comes from knowing what your partner likes and caring enough to make sure she's good. And trust me, if she likes you enough to be with you, she ain't thinking, 'Oh, I wish he had a little more experience under his belt.'" He pauses, then grins. "Pun intended."

Spencer groans again, looking like he wants to sink into the floor. "I walked right into that."

"You sure did, kid," Derek laughs. "But real talk, just talk to her. You're the communication expert, right? Women appreciate a guy who listens and actually cares about what they want. And besides, half of this stuff is about chemistry, not a résumé. You can't fake that."

Spencer nods slowly, considering his words. "Yeah… that makes sense."

Derek claps a hand on his shoulder. "Good. And hey, if you ever need some pointers, I'm happy to—"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Spencer interrupts quickly, shaking his head.

Derek throws his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! Just know I got you, kid."

Spencer huffs a small laugh, finally looking a little less mortified. "Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Pretty Boy. I'm always game to talk about your sex life." Derek smirks, grabbing his phone again.

Spencer groans, covering his face once more. "I never should have said anything."

"Said anything about what?" Emily asks as she and Hotch step onto the jet, both of them pausing near the entrance as they take in the scene before them.

Spencer immediately stiffens, his face still burning from the conversation. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the clouds outside the window.

On the other hand, Derek just smirks, leaning back in his seat. "Nothing, Prentiss. Just giving the kid some sage advice."

Emily raises a skeptical brow, exchanging a glance with Hotch, who looks equally unimpressed but chooses not to engage. "Uh-huh," she says slowly, clearly not buying it.

Spencer clears his throat, desperate to change the subject. "How was the debrief?"

Emily lets it slide for now, but the amused suspicion in her eyes lingers. "Long," she says, dropping into a seat across from them. "And now I'm even more curious about whatever it is you're talking about."

—

When the team returned from the case, the first thing Spencer did—before even stepping inside his apartment—was call you. He didn't care that he was exhausted, that the case had drained him in ways he didn't want to think about right now. He just wanted to hear your voice, to know you were there.

He barely let the door shut behind him before pulling out his phone and dialing your number without hesitation. The call barely rang twice before you picked up.

"Hey," you greeted softly, the warmth in your voice immediately settling something restless inside him.

Spencer let out a breath he was holding, his body sagging against the doorframe. "Hey," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. "I just— I just wanted to hear your voice."

You were quiet for a second, and then he heard the familiar sound of rustling sheets. "Are you okay?"

He huffed a small, tired laugh. "Yeah, just… long case."

"You want to come over?" you asked, and God, did he ever.

"Yeah," he admitted, already toeing off his shoes, his body running on nothing but muscle memory and the need to be near you. "Yeah, I do."

"Aww, Spence, you sound exhausted. Do you want to come over tomorrow instead?"

He knows you're probably just being considerate, that you're thinking about how drained he must be after the case. But he can't help how his stomach twists, quiet insecurity creeping in before he can push it away.

Maybe you don't want to see him. Maybe you're not as eager for him as he is for you.

His fingers tighten around the phone, and he swallows hard, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "Oh—uh, yeah. Yeah, if that's better for you," he says, trying to sound casual, but he knows he's not fooling anyone.

"Spencer," you say gently, and he hates that you can probably hear everything he's trying not to say. "I just don't want you running on fumes. You need to rest."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I just—I wanted to see you."

There's a pause, and then your voice softens even more. "Do you want me to come to you?"

His lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the offer. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," you cut in before he can finish. "But do you want me to?"

Spencer exhales, tension slipping from his shoulders. "Yeah," he admits, quieter this time. "I do."

"Then I'm on my way."

When you arrived at Spencer's apartment, it was as if the entire atmosphere shifted the moment you stepped through the door. The weight of the case, the exhaustion pressing down on him, the restless energy that had been buzzing under his skin—it all faded, dissolving in the quiet comfort of your presence.

Everything felt calmer with you around.

Especially when you were in his arms.

The second he pulled you close, it was like his body finally understood it could relax. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he let out a slow, tired breath. The tension in his muscles melted away, his heartbeat slowing to match the steady rhythm of yours.

"You okay?" you murmured, your hands running gently along his back, grounding him even further.

"Yeah," he whispered against your skin. "Now I am."

You held him a little tighter like you understood exactly what he needed without him having to say a word. And for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt like he could breathe again.

"How do you do that?" Spencer murmured into your shoulder, his voice soft, laced with something vulnerable.

"Do what?" you asked, fingers threading through his hair, gently combing through the strands. You felt him sigh against you, his body sinking further into yours like he was trying to memorize the feeling. He loved when you did that.

"Make the world seem less scary," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands stilled for just a moment before resuming their soothing motions. His words settled deep in your chest, wrapping around your heart, filling you with warmth and something almost indescribable.

You kissed the side of his head, letting your lips linger there for a second longer than necessary. "Because I'm big, bad and scary," you murmured.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before he could stop it. He pulled back just enough to look at you, still grinning, and was met with your own wide, goofy smile. The kind of smile that made his chest feel too tight, his heart pounding just a little harder than it should.

And then he realized—this was it.

This was the moment.

With your hips pressed together, your gorgeous smile beaming up at him, and your dreamy eyes shining with amusement and something softer beneath them, Spencer suddenly remembered the second piece of advice Derek had given him.

"You just gotta be confident, walk in there, and lay it on her."

For all his intelligence and ability to recall and analyze even the most minute details, Spencer had never quite mastered confidence when it came to things like this. But as he stood there, looking at you, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he thought—maybe he could try.

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against your waist before he finally spoke, voice just a little unsteady but full of intent.

"Then I guess I should just... lay it on you, huh?"

Your smile faltered for half a second, your eyes widening slightly, and that reaction alone made his breath catch in his throat. Because for the first time, he saw something shift in your expression—something knowing, something new, something that made him want to follow through.

He didn't overthink it this time.

The moment Spencer leaned in, the rest of the world faded away. The second his lips met yours, it was like a spark ignited between you, something electric and all-consuming.

The kiss started slow and hesitant as if Spencer were still testing the waters. But something inside him shifted, and his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer. 

Time became irrelevant.

The kiss deepened, turning from something careful into something desperate, something that felt like it had been waiting to happen for far too long. His hands moved up your back, fingertips pressing into you like he was afraid you'd slip away if he let go. 

Spencer was about to try something new—maybe slip his tongue past your lips, bite your lip, or something else entirely. The possibilities felt endless, thrilling, completely uncharted territory. But you pulled back just as he was about to take that step.

He blinked at you, still slightly dazed, lips parted as if he hadn't expected the moment to end so suddenly.

You sucked on your own lip shyly, your eyes darting up to his before dropping away again. Then you laughed—soft, a little awkward, a little hesitant. "Is that why you invited me over?"

Spencer furrowed his brows, still caught in the haze of what had just happened. "What?"

"Just horny, big guy?" you teased, but there was something off in your voice, something uncertain beneath the humor, something that made Spencer's stomach twist.

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. "What? No, no, Y/N, no. I missed you. Really." His voice was rushed, desperate to make you believe him. "I'm sorry—I don't know what got into me."

You nodded, lips pressing together as if trying to push down whatever you felt. "It's okay," you said lightly, though the weight in your eyes told him it wasn't just okay.

So much for trying new things.

Spencer let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling frustration—not at you, but at himself, at his own inability to navigate this without stumbling. "I didn't invite you over for that," he said again, softer this time like he was trying to erase any doubt you might have. "I just… I just wanted to be with you."

Your expression softened just a little, but the moment had already shifted, and the atmosphere no longer crackled with the same intensity as before. Spencer swallowed hard, unsure how to fix it or even if he could.

So instead, he did what he always did—he overthought, panicked internally, and, worst of all, let the silence stretch between you.

"You can go home if you want," Spencer sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor instead.

It felt like a knife twisting in your stomach. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, disbelief and hurt tightening your chest. "Wh-what? You want me to leave now? Because I wouldn't have sex with you?"

Your voice wavered despite the edge of anger creeping into it, but underneath it all was something much more painful—betrayal.

Spencer's heart dropped the second he heard the hurt in your voice.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with panic. "What? No! No, Y/N, that's not what I meant," he rushed out, his words tripping over themselves in his desperation to fix what had just gone wrong. Y/N, I swear that is not it," he said, shaking his head frantically. That's not what I was saying."

"Then what were you saying, Spencer?" You searched his face, your voice steadier now but no less wounded.

Spencer inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the words. He felt like everything was spiraling, like no matter what he said now, he had already made you feel like you weren't wanted here.

And that was the last thing he wanted.

"I—I just thought maybe you felt uncomfortable," he admitted his voice quieter now, tinged with frustration at himself. "I didn't want you to feel pressured or—trapped here with me."

You stared at him, and for a second, neither of you spoke. The weight of the moment hung heavy between you.

"Spencer," you finally said, your voice softer than before, "if I felt uncomfortable, I would leave. You don't have to tell me I can go."

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

"I want to be here," you continued, stepping a little closer, searching his face for any sign that you weren't completely misreading everything. "I just… I don't want that to be the only reason you want me here."

Spencer's head snapped up, his eyes wide, filled with something close to panic. "It's not," he said quickly, shaking his head, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach for you but wasn't sure if he should. "God, Y/N, it's not. I swear."

"Okay," you murmured, offering him a small, hesitant smile.

Spencer let out a breath, his hands still fidgeting at his sides. "So… you're staying?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head but smiling wider now. "Yes, Spencer. I'm staying."

And just like that, the tension in the room began to dissolve.

"But we need to talk about this again later," you said, your voice gentle but firm. This wasn't something that could just be brushed aside, and you needed him to understand that.

Spencer nodded quickly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly like he feared you'd change your mind and leave anyway. "Yeah," he agreed, swallowing hard. "We will. I promise."

You studied him for a second longer before sighing softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Okay," you murmured, letting the tension ease just enough to move forward, at least for tonight.

With that, the two of you headed to bed. Spencer climbed in beside you, hesitant at first, unsure if he should keep his distance after everything. But as soon as you nestled against him, your warmth pressing into his side, he exhaled deeply, finally letting himself relax.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just lying there in the quiet, feeling the rise and fall of each other's breaths.

And even though there was still a conversation to be had—still things to work through—at least for now, in this moment, you were here. And for Spencer, that was enough.

—

The next evening, after dinner, you curled up on Spencer's couch, your legs tucked beneath you as you turned to face him. He was clearly tense, hands clasped between his knees, and his eyes flickered toward you and away again.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before you spoke. "I just want to start by saying I do believe you," you said, watching the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. "I know you didn't invite me over just for sex. And I'm really grateful for you, Spencer. You have no idea."

His brows knitted together, his head tilting slightly. "Grateful?"

You nodded, your fingers twisting together in your lap. "I've been in relationships before where… that's all I was. Where the second I wasn't giving them what they wanted, I wasn't worth their time anymore." You swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting his gaze again. "So, to finally be with someone who isn't just using me for sex? It means a lot to me."

Spencer's face softened, something aching in his expression as he shifted slightly closer. "Y/N… I would never do that to you," he said earnestly, his voice thick with emotion. "I—I don't even know how to be that kind of person. I just…" He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I messed up. I moved too fast and made you feel like that's all I wanted, even when it wasn't true. And I hate that I made you feel that way."

You exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know you didn't mean to," you admitted. "But Spencer, sex is… complicated for me. I can't separate it from how I've been treated in the past. So when things escalated like that, I panicked."

His jaw clenched, guilt flashing across his face. "I should have been paying more attention to your feelings instead of just going with the moment."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the tension in his fingers before he relaxed against you. "I just need you to understand that it's not that I don't want you," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "I do. But I need to go at a pace that doesn't make me feel like I'm just… filling a role, you know?"

Spencer nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "I understand. And I—I want to do this right with you." He swallowed hard, his voice quieter now. "You're not just anyone to me, Y/N. I don't want to do anything that makes you doubt that."

You felt your heart swell at his words, at the sincerity in his voice, and at the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Spencer smiled softly, his fingers lacing through yours. "I just want to be with you."

Your chest warmed, and you felt completely, undeniably safe.

"I want to be with you too," you said softly, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you cuddled closer, letting your body melt into his.

Spencer exhaled, his arm tightening around you instinctively like he never wanted to let you go. He rested his head on top of yours, his breath tickling your hair. For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, after a brief pause, he spoke. "I need to tell you one more thing."

You tilted your head slightly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against his chest. "What's up, Spence?"

He hesitated, his grip on you flexing ever so slightly before he finally said it. "I'm a virgin."

You froze momentarily, processing his words, before you pulled back slightly to look at him. His face was already tinged pink, his gaze flickering away like he expected you to react a certain way—like he wasn't sure if you'd be surprised or disappointed.

But you weren't either of those things.

Instead, you smiled, gently kissing his cheek and guiding his eyes back to yours. "Spencer," you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, "that doesn't change anything for me."

His brows furrowed slightly. "It doesn't?"

You shook your head, your smile softening. "Not even a little. It just makes me feel even luckier to be the person you want to experience that with whenever you're ready."

Spencer swallowed, his throat bobbing as he took in your words, letting them settle into the quiet, insecure part of him that had been holding onto that secret for so long. Finally, he exhaled, a small, relieved smile ghosting over his lips.

"You really mean that?" he asked, almost shyly.

You nodded, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. "Of course I do."

And when you pulled back, Spencer was still blushing—but now, it wasn't out of embarrassment. 

It was love. And maybe a bit of lust.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee

[greengoblinswifey]

Off Limits

pairing— stepdad!in-ho x stepdaughter!reader

summary— since in-ho has married your mother, you’ve had him wrapped around your finger and your pussy wrapped around his cock—but lately, he’d been neglecting you in favor of her. you get his attention in the only way you know how, making him jealous.

warnings— minors DNI. age gap(19, early 50s) jealousy, spanking, face fucking, daddy kink, katoptronophilia, choking, hair pulling, cock worship, orgasm denial, begging, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— i feel like after this you guys can tell i have daddy issues but enjoy! requests for stepdad!in-ho are open.

You had spent the last few weeks feeling almost restless. Ever since In-ho started spending less time at home, and more with your mother at the request of wanting to hang out with her husband more, your usual interactions had been reduced to fleeting glances at dinner and quickies when he finally managed to slip away. He was distant and when he wasn’t with your mother—he was occupied with his mysterious occupation and you hated how much you noticed. How much you missed him. But you weren’t the type to sit around sulking. If he was going to ignore you, you’d make sure he regretted it.

Sure, you had no right to be jealous. He was your mother’s husband. No one told you to go fuck your stepfather, of course he’d start spending time with his own wife instead.

So when a popular frat boy from your university asked you out, again—you finally said yes. Not because you liked him, but because you knew it would get a reaction from In-ho.

Getting ready, you chose the skimpiest two piece outfit you owned. The fabric clung to your body in all the right places, the skirt riding just high enough to show your ass cheeks and your thong strings were on your hips. You knew exactly what you were doing when you stepped out of your room.

He was there, standing in the hallway, watching you with an unreadable expression. His gaze dragged over your figure, slowly, before settling on your face.

“Where are you going?” His voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath it.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a date,” you smirked, tilting your head.

His jaw tensed. “Go back inside and change that sorry excuse of an outfit. You aren’t going anywhere.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, not happening.”

He exhaled through his nose, something dark flickering in his gaze, but he didn’t say another word. You walked past him without looking back.

The date was fine. The guy was charming, a little full of himself, but he paid for dinner and made you laugh a couple of times. Still, your mind was elsewhere. And when he dropped you back home, you made sure to lean in and kiss him on the cheek before stepping out of the car.

As you turned to walk inside, you threw one last glance over your shoulder. “You know, you’re free to touch if you’d like,” you said playfully, knowing full well a certain someone would be watching.

The guy grinned, slapping your ass and biting his lip before driving off. He hadn’t gotten any pussy but he definitely scored that night.

You didn’t need to turn around to know In-ho was there, standing just inside the house, waiting. The door clicked shut behind you, locking you in with the storm brewing in his gaze.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe you had pushed too far.

“What the hell was that?” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it.

You rolled your eyes and moved to push past him. “Isn’t my mother waiting for you?” you said, asked.

Before you could take another step, his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful. “It’s just us right now,” he said, his voice heavier.

You tried to yank your arm away, glaring up at him. “Let me go.”

His jaw tightened. “You’ve been a brat all night,” he muttered. His gaze dropped briefly, taking in your outfit again, and his grip tensed just slightly. “And you really walked out of here wearing this? For him?”

You scoffed, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You think I didn’t see you? Letting that kid put his hands on your ass like that?”

You lifted your chin, crossing your arms. “And?”

That muscle in his jaw twitched. He let go of your wrist only to grab you again, firmer this time, pulling you toward the bedroom.

“Hey—” you started, trying to dig your heels into the floor, but he was stronger.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, kicking the door shut behind you. “You’ve been running your mouth all night.”

You shoved at his arm, cursing under your breath. “This is ridiculous.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you forward over his lap. You gasped, trying to push up, but his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“In-ho—”

“You went out with that little boy wearing nothing but a thong?” he asked, lifting the hem of your skirt, scoffing. “Figures.”

You squirmed. “Let me go.”

“You know the drill.” His voice was calm, almost amused. “Count.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sharp sting that followed had you sucking in a breath instead.

“One.”

Another.

“T-two.”

His hand came down again, this time a bit harder. “I’m sorry,” you whined.

He scoffed, smoothing his hand over your burning ass. “Sorry who?”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

It clearly wasn’t enough for him as his hand came down once more.

By the time he reached fifteen, your breath was shaky, and your ass tingled with heat.

He exhaled, running a hand over your ass before finally letting you go. You sat up quickly, glaring at him through glassy eyes.

He smirked, leaning back slightly. “That little stunt of yours was cute.”

You huffed, wiping your eyes. “S-shut up.”

Still, the way he was looking at you made it clear—he knew you weren’t going to pull something like that again.

You pouted, the look on your face making his resolve falter. “Can you hold me? Please daddy.”

He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and tell you all was well but you needed to learn. He tilted your chin, meeting your watery, pouty gaze. “When you’ve learned to be a good girl but you’re not there yet.”

He undid his belt, his hard cock springing free and you immediately knew what you had to do.

“Get on your knees, worship this cock and show me exactly how sorry you are.”

You nodded, getting on his knees to place a soft kiss on his tip, murmuring, “I love how perfect you are.” Your lips traced a slow path on his shaft, and you could feel his gaze on you. “So big daddy,” you whispered, your words a mix of praise and awe. You knew he liked hearing it, the way his jaw tightened and his fingers threaded through your curls told you so.

“Shut up,” he said, his tone more commanding now. “I don't need you to tell me, you're going to show me.”

Your lips parted, and you took him in your mouth, your gaze flicking up to meet his. His hand tightened in your curls, guiding you to remind you who was in control. “That's it, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Keep going, just like that.”

You continued, your focus entirely on him, feeling his quiet approval in the way his cock throbbed, though his hand remained firmly in your hair. He let out a soft moan, “You're doing so good for me,” he murmured, his words making your pussy throb. “Sometimes you can be a good girl.”

You glided your tongue along his length, your voice barely above a whisper as you said, “I love making you feel good, daddy.” Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his balls, adding to the warmth of your affection.

You took him deep into your throat, gagging as you did but it only turned him on. His grip on your curls remained, pushing your head down then thrusting when you got too comfortable. You swirled your tongue around his shaft, saliva and pre cum dripping down your chin, and you made sure your eyes looked up at him, full of admiration as he fucked your face.

“Such a beautiful fucking slut for your daddy,” he moaned. He began thrusting faster, ready to shoot his load down your throat. “Get ready, and you're going to swallow every drop.” You hummed in response, the vibration sending him over the edge and he pushed your head all the way down until your nose touched his pelvis. His cum shot down your throat and you swallowed every drop like the good girl you aimed to be.

He pulled you off him by your hair, his breath shaky, cock twitching.

“I’d eat your pussy but you don’t deserve that right now.” You pouted at his words. “Get on the bed. Face down, ass up. Move.”

You obeyed, biting your lip as you crawled onto the bed, positioning yourself as he instructed. Your heart raced as you glanced at the mirror in front of the bed, where you could see the reflection of the both of you. In-ho stood behind you, his intense gaze fixed on you as he pulled off his shirt, revealing the muscles of his torso.

He tore your skirt and your thong off, then your skimpy top followed. His smirk was almost cruel, his hands brushing along the curve of your now bare ass as he positioned himself behind you.

“You're going to behave now, aren't you, sweetie?” he murmured. “Or do I need to remind you who's in charge?”

You rolled your eyes and he slapped your ass in response, making you yelp. He didn't hesitate, gripping your waist tightly before plunging into you with a force that left you screaming. Your face buried into the pillow instinctively, but his low, commanding voice brought you back.

“No,” he growled, his fingers tightening around your hips. “Look at yourself. Look at what happens when you act out. Watch me punish you."”

You turned your head toward the mirror, catching sight of him in all his glory. His dark eyes met yours in the reflection, a look of dominance swirling in them.

“That's fucking right,” he said, slamming into you harder, making your entire body jolt. “Don't you dare look away.”

Your breath hitched as his pace quickened, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “Daddy, I'm sorry,” you cried, your voice trembling.

“Too bad.” he said sharply, his lips curving into a smirk. “You've been a brat and a damn whore all night. You don't get to apologize now.”

His rhythm didn't relent, his grip firm as he hit that spot inside you that made you tremble uncontrollably. “You're enjoying this way too much," he murmured, his tone almost teasing as he noticed the way your pussy soaked his cock.

He could feel the way you clenched around him and he grabbed your throat, pulling you back to his chest.

“You wanna cum for daddy? Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, daddy,” you sobbed. “P-please let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

He chuckled darkly, shoving you back down into the mattress, your face pressed into it. “Beg me, scream for me. Tell me how sorry you are.”

The overwhelming urge to cum was so much, you couldn’t hold back the words that tumbled from your lips even if you tried.

“Please daddy! Please, let me cum. I- I’m so sorry! I won’t be a brat anymore, I swear. Please, wanna cum s-so bad,” you cried, your voice breaking into a pathetic sob.

You could feel the way his cock throbbed inside you at your words. He pulled you back by your neck, your gaze locked on him in the mirror.

“You’ve earned it, baby. Cum for daddy, soak my cock.”

His words were all you needed, your body shook in his arms, and your orgasm took ahold of you. Babbling incoherent words, you squirted, the sensation so intense that his cum spurted deep inside your pussy. He pressed your face into the bed, moaning loudly as he fucked his cum into you and rode out his high. When he was satisfied, he collapsed onto the bed, laying kisses all over your face as he tried to ground you.

In-ho exhaled as he stood up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm cloth. He crouched down beside you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face, brushing away the dampness on your cheeks then cleaned between your legs. His fingers lingered for a moment, thumb grazing your cheek.

“What’s really wrong, sweetie?” His voice had softened now, no longer edged with frustration.

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You’ve been spending so much time with mom,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “I feel alone.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he sat beside you. “You don’t have to be jealous or seek attention from some little boy to get a reaction out of me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. “You’re the one I want. You know that.”

Your defenses crumbled at his words, and without thinking, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close, stroking your hair and your back.

“Good girl,” he murmured, running his hand down your back in soothing strokes. “You know I’m yours regardless.” His lips brushed the top of your head. “And you’re mine. My princess, my baby girl.”

You exhaled, finally relaxing against him as he held you, warm and a bit—fatherly, exactly where you wanted to be.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @chrisgetsmewetter @namsgyu @pillowtalk6 @namelesslosers @verouys @megangovier @torasgfreal @badasoneandonly @nicholaschavezslut69 @cathers-world @hisokasimp1 @matcham1lk @blushlaced

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Part III is here took it longer than i expected. Since this is modern setting i think Ambessa would likely be a rich ceo.

Part III (final)

“And… what exactly do you do, Miss Medarda?” your mom asked, her tone light but loaded.

You look at your mom with a pleading eye telling her to stop but she was totally ignoring you. Like you don't exist. Wonderful..

"Nothing much, Mrs. [Last Name] but I do own a business called Medarda Enterprises," Ambessa replied smoothly, as if it were nothing remarkable. "We specialize in international investments and infrastructure. If you don't mind, Y/N mentioned about your passion for cooking, so I brought you a little gift. I hope you'd be please.."

You swallowed, waiting. This was Ambessa’s way of extending goodwill, and you prayed your mother wouldn’t outright reject it. God! She sound so smart and formal.

But the room went dead silent. Even your cousins, usually glued to their phones, looked up. You saw your dad’s who was in the side, eyes widen slightly, realizing.

Medarda Enterprises.

Everyone knew it. Ambessa wasn’t just rich—she was influencial and wealthy. She owned one of the biggest enterprises, and their latest expansion had set its sights on your country. It was no wonder your family recognize it immediatly.

And the CEO herself? She had a reputation of her ruthless business deals and nonsense attitude they weren’t just office gossip they made headlines. And the owner of such, here she was, sitting casually in your family’s dining room, sipping wine like she hadn’t just sent the entire room into stunned silence.

Your mom cleared her throat, but her voice had lost a bit of its edge. “T-that’s… quite the achievement,” she said carefully. “I suppose running such an empire doesn’t leave much time for… personal matters? And beside you don’t seem to be the type of person who would date someone like my daughter.”

You flinched, opening your mouth to protest, but Ambessa placed a firm hand over yours under the table. She exhaled a quiet chuckle.

“And what type of person would that be?”

Your mother shrugged unsure, but now her voice was low. “A woman like you… Y-you have power, wealth, influence.You seems to have everything under your finger. You can have anything you want. So why my daughter? of all people..”

Your stomach twisted. Your mother wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. It show how against she was in the relationship.

Ambessa wiped her mouth with a napkin, taking her time. “Your child is a remarkable person,” she said, her voice cool and calm. “Independent. Intelligent. Capable of making her own choices.” She finally met your mother’s gaze, “Do you doubt that? What exactly do you think your daughter is lacking, Mrs. [Last Name]?”

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not about lacking,” she said “It’s about reality. People in your position don’t settle down with people like us. They take what they want and move on when it’s convenient.”

A muscle in your jaw tightened. She thinks this is temporary. She thinks you’re temporary. And worst of all, she thinks your relationship with Ambessa is just a phase—something fleeting, something Ambessa will eventually grow tired of.

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but Ambessa beat you to it. Her gaze flickered to you. She wanted you to stay put, to trust her. This was her fight, and she didn’t want you to bear the weight of it any longer.

Ambessa’s expression darkened just a fraction. If this had been anyone else, she would have shut them down without hesitation. Ambessa Medarda did not entertain opposition, especially from those who dared to speak ill of her. But this was different.

This was your mother, and despite your mother poor choice of word, Ambessa held herself back, maintaining a measured respect.

She deeply understood at your mother reaction.

Ambessa leaned back in her chair, “I understand why you would think that, Mrs. [Last Name]” she said, voice smooth but firm. “People like me… we don’t have the best reputation, do we? And i understood my past doesn’t inspire trust. But my intentions are not temporary, and neither is my love for your daughter.”

Your mother’s fingers twitched slightly, “And you expect me to just believe that?”

Ambessa tilted her head, considering. Then she smirked—not mocking, but with confidence. “No,” she admitted. “I expect you to watch and see for yourself.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “That’s a rather diplomatic answer.”

“I can be far less diplomatic, if you’d prefer.”

Your mother exhaled sharply through her nose, breaking contact first.. And continue “Let's just be honest here for once, Miss Medarda,” she pressed on “what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

Ambessa’s expression didn’t change, but you felt her grip tighten on your hand beneath the table, just slightly. “That depends,” she said smoothly. “Are you asking out of genuine concern or because you think I’m incapable of commitment?”

Your mother, for the first time in the entire conversation, didn't know what to reply.

But Ambessa, sensing the shift, didn’t let the silence settle for long. She exhaled softly, her grip on your hand grounding, steady. “Just to make one thing clear, Mrs. [Last Name],” she said, “Your daughter is an extraordinary person. She is intelligent, kind, and resilient in ways most people never have to be. She challenges me, surprises me, and makes me better simply by existing.”

Your heart clenched at the sincerity in her voice. It was the first time Ambessa had let down her defenses in front of someone else. And yet, here she was, speaking with raw honesty. You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

Ambessa’s gaze softened slightly. “Before I met her, everything around me was gray—predictable, structured, and… empty.” She glanced at you briefly before reaching out, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a sweet, tender caress. Your heart swelled at the touch and you felt yourself lean into it without thinking.

“And then she came along, and suddenly, the world had color again.”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly against the sting of emotion creeping into your eyes. Your mother was watching the two of you closely, her expression unreadable. The room felt impossibly still.

“I don’t take people lightly,” Ambessa continued, turning back to your mother. “And I don’t waste time on things that don’t matter. But your daughter? She matters to me. More than I can fully put into words. And i am expressing that i am truly genuine in our relationship. We didn't reach five years for nothing..”

Silence.

Your mother blinked. Then again. Her lips parted, coudn't believe what she just heard.

“Five years,” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “What Five years?”

This time, she turned to you, and all you could offer was a guilty smile, shifting under her intense stare.

Your mother’s gaze sharpened. “Wait—five years ago… that’s after one year you set foot on the States, isn’t it?”

You swallowed. “Y-yeah, Mom…”

She narrowed her eyes. “And Ambessa was…?”

You sighed, already feeling the weight of the explanation. “A-ambessa was actually become one of my clients.” You glanced at Ambessa, who simply smirked like this was all highly entertaining. She was entually enjoying this.. “That’s where it all started. And, well… as we spent more time together, we eventually started dating.”

Your mother blinked. Once. Twice. Then turned to Ambessa, eyes narrowing. “So let me get this straight—you were her boss?”

Ambessa, to her credit, met your mother’s scrutiny head-on, completely unbothered. “At first, yes.” She tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “And then, we became… more.”

Your mother looks like her jaw gonna drop at Ambessa's shameless agreement. “So you mean to tell me that while I thought my daughter was out there working hard, making a name for herself, and focusing on her career—”

“I was doing all that!” you protested.

“—She was actually started dating such person?! And for five years already?!”

The entire room fell into silence. Even the distant chatter from the remaining family members seemed to dim as your mother sat there, stunned.

She took a moment, as if trying to process this new reality. Then, finally, she turned to you, her eyes narrowing with accusation.

“How did you even manage that?” she asked, voice laced with pure disbelief.

Your shoulders dropped. You stared at her, deadpan.

“Seriously, Mom..?''

Beside you, Ambessa let out a low chuckle but eventually stopped when she noticed your pout, your expression clearly showing how upset you were. Why did people always ask that? Like it was some impossible thing? Well… they weren’t wrong exactly. You had caught a big fish—an impossibly big one.

Your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head like she was trying to reset her brain. “I mean, it’s just—this is a Medarda we’re talking about. She could be with anyone. Anyone.”

Ambessa, ever the amused spectator, took a slow sip of her wine before setting the glass down. “And yet,” she said smoothly, resting an arm behind your chair, “I chose her.”

Your mom blinked, glancing between the two of you. “But… why?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God, can everyone stop asking that?”

Ambessa smirked, tilting her head. “It is a fair question, little one.”

You turned to her, completely betrayed. “Not you too!”

Your father, who had been quietly observing the conversation from the sidelines, let out a low whistle. “Well… that certainly explains why you never brought anyone home before.”

Your mother held Ambessa’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. Debating and looking like there was so many thing circulating on her head—but then, finally, she exhaled a long, sigh of defeat.. loss of word.

You nearly gasped.

Your mother—one of the most difficult, most stubborn people on the planet—looked completely out of words.

You turned to Ambessa, barely suppressing a grin, and found her already looking at you. A slow, proud smirk tugged at her lips—one that said I told you so.

God, you loved this woman.

Mother inhaled sharply, rubbing her temples like this was giving her a migraine. Worry immediately surged through you, and you stood up without thinking.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

But she immedialy raised her head sharply pointing in your direction.

“You.. Young lady. We have so many things to talk about”

You froze.

"Five years," she repeated, shaking her head again. "Five years, and you never thought to mention this? Am i that distrustful for you to keep it that long.. Do I look like I can't handle it? I always thought you were alone and miserable, but clearly, that’s not the case." She let out a dramatic sigh.

"And gay? Listen, I love you honey but i have nothing against it, but..." She hesitated, gesturing vaguely as if trying to grasp the right words. "I always thought you liked men. Handsome ones! Those with big muscles.. The kind who look like Chris Evans or—"

She hissed, voice barely above a whisper “And then you’re telling me this whole time. She looks like she could even be your—”

“Mom, don’t,” You warned,. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your mom immedialty stopped. Completly understood and clearly deciding not to push that particular button.'' A-and Oh! I remeber..What about Henry Cavill?! You dreamed about marrying him.. Don’t you remember? You used to have a poster of him above your bed—''

Your stomach dropped. Where was this conversion even leading up?

“Mom—”

You darted a glance at Ambessa, and to your horror. Beside you, she was watching you with her signature unreadable expression, one brow arched in amusement.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“That’s enough, mom” you cut in, mortified.

It was bad enough that your mother was bringing up every embarrassing detail of your past, it wasn't on your bucket list for Ambessa—Ambessa hearing it for the first time about your past fascination on men.

You dared a glance at her once again, swallowing hard.

Ambessa took a sip of her wine, her smirk growing. “Cavill, hmm?”

You groaned, covering your face. This is the best and also the worst day of your life.

FIN

Thank you so much for reading!! (happy2 author!)

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 9

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

Also, this chapter is pretty much pure smut. So NSFW applies.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando bought her dog Ferrari Merch. No, scratch that. Lizzie’s boyfriend had literally asked Charles Leclerc, Il Predestinato himself, to get him Ferrari Merch for Mara.

It wasn’t like Lizzie hadn’t tried to get Ferrari Merch for her dog before…but it had always been pretty much impossible. Until Lando.

Until Lando brought home dog bandanas in rosso corsa, printed with that prancing horse symbol of the Scuderia. 

Lizzie's brain was still reeling from the fact that Lando had gone to such lengths for her dog. It was almost absurd, but also incredibly sweet and endearing.

And if Lando could get Ferrari Merch for her dog...maybe she should get McLaren Merch for him.

The plan had come together in her mind quite quickly.

And when he came home from Imola...she was waiting for him.

Waiting. Wearing a shirt that hailed from sometime before her birth…at a time when F1 cars were still plastered with cigarette advertisements. 

Lizzie had expected a reaction.

She hadn’t expected Lando to practically lose his mind the second he stepped through the door.

The plan had been simple. Subtle. Wear the vintage McLaren hoodie she’d spent way too much time hunting down, let him clock it immediately, and then sit back and enjoy the reaction. Tasha had been convinced this would send him feral—“You wanna break a man? Wear something that combines his two greatest loves: his job and you.”—but Lizzie hadn’t been prepared for this.

Because Lando didn’t just react.

He stared.

Completely frozen in the doorway, his bag slipping from his shoulder, mouth slightly parted like his brain had short-circuited. His eyes tracked every inch of her, taking in the way the hoodie swallowed her frame, the way the sleeves draped past her hands, the way she was curled up on the couch like she’d always belonged there.

And then, just when she started to smirk—

“Oh, you fucking menace.”

Lizzie barely had time to blink before Lando was on her, his body pressing her into the couch cushions, hands already gripping at the fabric like he needed to convince himself it was real.

“You—” A kiss to her jaw. “—are—” His hands slid beneath the hoodie, fingers tracing the bare skin of her waist. “—so—” His lips moved to her throat, warm and insistent. “—fucking cruel.”

Lizzie's heart raced as Lando suddenly came alive, his hands roaming over her, his lips on her skin. She'd expected a reaction, but this was...something else entirely. She let out a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her with an intensity that ignited a fire within her.

Lizzie let out a breathless laugh, tilting her head to give him better access. “It’s just a hoodie, Lando.”

Lando pulled back, just enough to look at her, his expression somewhere between wrecked and unbelieving. “Just a hoodie?” He scoffed, hands sliding up her sides, thumbs teasing the edge of her ribcage. “No, see, if you had worn my hoodie, I would’ve lost my mind, but this?” He shook his head, voice rough with something dangerously close to reverence. “You planned this.”

Lizzie bit her lip, deliberately toying with the hem of the hoodie. “Maybe.”

Lando’s gaze darkened, tracking the movement of her hands, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Definitely," he corrected her in a low hum, his breath hot against her collarbone. "You did this on purpose, you little minx."

"Is it working?" She challenged back, her voice an innocent contrast to the gleam in her eyes.

Lando’s hands fisted the hoodie—his team’s hoodie—the possessive move making Lizzie shiver.

He looked at her, his expression wild and wanting. “You have no idea,” he growled in her ear, the sound sending a jolt of lust straight to her core.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," she murmured back, arching into him, pushing the fabric up on purpose. She could see how it was affecting him, the way his breath caught and his gaze darkened. She knew exactly what she was doing to him...and it fueled her own desire.

“You’re such a tease,” he breathed out, his hands roaming up the heated skin of her sides, his fingers toying with the edge of her bra almost lazily. Lizzie shivered at his touch, arching into him with a quiet moan.

Lando’s mouth latched onto her throat in response, his teeth sinking into her skin just enough to make her gasp. His hands continued their torturous exploration, sliding under her body and lifting her against him.

"Bed," she gasped.

Lando needed no more instruction.

In one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms, his grip tight as he headed towards the bedroom. It was a whirlwind of sensations, his hands hot and urgent, his body pressed firmly against hers.

They reached the bedroom and he deposited her on the bed, his body following, pinning her down. He loomed over her, his eyes wild and dark, his breathing ragged.

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" He rasped out, his lips brushing against her jawline.

Lizzie grinned, her hands wandering to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it with a playful edge. "Oh, trust me, I have some idea."

He leaned back, stripping his shirt off in a quick, practiced motion, and then he was back on her, his body heavy and hard against hers.

He kissed a path down her throat, his hands roaming over her curves, the feel of him against her, the smell of him overwhelming her senses. Lizzie let out a low moan, her hands gripping at his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer.

One of her hands buried in his curls, pulling him into another kiss.

"As much as I like this sweater..." Lando whispered

"...it would look better on the floor," Lizzie finished, tugging at the fabric of the hoodie. 

Lando's eyes darkened even further at her words. "God, you're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his hands slipping under the hoodie and pulling it up over her head.

Lizzie was left in just her lace bra, vulnerable and wanting under Lando's gaze. His eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her bare skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous, love," he breathed.

Lizzie arched into him, his words sending a shiver down her spine. "I could say the same about you," she replied huskily, her hands roving over his chest, feeling the firm muscles under her fingertips.

Lando's breath hitched as her fingers traced over his stomach, his hands tightening on her hips. He leaned down, his lips finding her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "You drive me insane, you know that?" He murmured, his voice low and rough.

Lizzie let out a soft moan, her head tilting back to give him better access. "I have that effect on you, huh?" She teased, her hands wandering lower, fingers tracing the waistband of his jeans.

Lando groaned, his hips pressing into her touch automatically. "More than you realize," he murmured, his lips finding her collarbone. "You're like a goddamn addiction. I can't get enough of you."

Lizzie's breath caught at his words, the raw honesty in them almost too much to handle. She ran her hands over his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of him. "Then take more," she challenged, her voice a whisper in his ear. "I'm not stopping you."

Lando needed no more invitation. His mouth was on her, his teeth scraping across her collarbone, his tongue soothing the skin. His hands roamed, possessive and rough, as if he needed to touch every inch of her to convince himself she was real.

Lizzie gasped, her body arching into him, her hands gripping at his shoulders. She'd never known lust like this, had never felt so desired, so consumed. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel more, to have all of him.

Lando's hands were everywhere, his touch igniting flames in her veins. He hooked a finger under the strap of her bra, sliding it off her shoulder, his mouth following the path his finger had traced. A moment later, the scrap of lace joined the discarded hoodie, leaving her completely bare beneath him.

He pulled back to look down at her, his eyes roaming over her naked form like he was seeing her for the first time. "God, Liz," he whispered, his voice hoarse, reverent. "You're so goddamn beautiful."

Lizzie's heart did a little flip at his words, a mix of arousal and affection flooding through her. She reached up, pulling him back down to her, her lips finding his in a hungry kiss. His body pressed against her, his skin on hers, and it was like electricity shooting through her veins.

Lando responded eagerly, his lips moving against hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth. His hands continued their exploration, mapping every contour, every contour, every sensitive spot, learning what made her gasp and shudder.

He kissed down her neck, down over her chest...his hands sliding down her sides, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He kissed her stomach, just above her hipbone, his lips tender, almost reverent. Lizzie let out a shaky breath, her fingers digging into the sheets.

Lando moved lower, kissing a path down her stomach, his breath hot against her skin. He reached the edge of her shorts and paused, his eyes flicking up to meet hers, a silent request for permission.

Lizzie met his gaze, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted. She nodded, her eyes darkened with want, her body trembling with anticipation. Lando's expression darkened, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly, tortuously, slid her shorts down her legs.

He dropped them on the floor, his gaze roaming over her newly-exposed skin. His hands ran up her legs, from ankle to knee to thigh, his touch electrifying. He bit down on his lip as if to suppress a groan, his eyes dark and hot.

Lizzie felt exposed and yet so wanted under his gaze. She couldn't help but squirm a bit, her body needy and desperate. She wanted more, needed more. Her fingers fisted the sheets, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Lando's hands continued their journey, his touch teasing and light as he kissed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasped, her body arching towards him instinctively. His mouth found the spot just below her hipbone, leaving an open-mouthed kiss there, his teeth scraping gently.

Lizzie's breath hitched, her head tilting back as pleasure coursed through her. His touch was setting her ablaze, every kiss, every graze of his teeth sending fire shooting through her veins. She couldn't remember the last time she'd want anyone this desperately, needed anyone like this.

Lando moved lower, his lips finding the juncture between her thighs, his tongue tracing a lazy pattern. She let out a strangled moan, her hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was very much enjoying it.

His mouth found her, hot and wet and so unbelievably good. Lizzie's brain short-circuited, her hands flying to his hair, grabbing at his curlsdesperately. She let out a strangled cry, her body arching off the bed, her toes curling. Lando groaned against her, the vibration sending another jolt of pure pleasure through her. 

Lizzie gasped, her hips instinctively bucking against him. "Oh god, yes..." She managed to get out, her voice strangled and weak. Lando's hands held her in place, his grip firm, but not rough, as he continued his ministrations. 

The sensations were overwhelming, bordering on too much. Lizzie felt like she was drowning in him, in this moment, in this feeling. Her body was alive with it, her skin on fire, her heart pounding out of her chest. Every touch of his tongue, every graze of his fingers sent sparks through her, like electricity through her veins.

He pressed one finger into her, and she couldn’t help but clench down onto it. Lando's grip on her thighs tightened as she started to shiver, her breathing rough and ragged. He could feel her teetering on the edge, and he didn't ease up. His tongue continued its rhythm, relentless and precise, pushing her closer and closer… He slid two fingers in, deep and slowly started to fuck her with them.

“Yes.” Her breath hitched, and she shuddered against his hand. “Yes, that’s so good.”

Lizzie was lost, completely lost in him, in the pleasure he was wringing from her body. She was on the precipice, teetering on the edge, her body quivering with the need for release. She gripped at the sheets, her fingers white-knuckled, as she fought for control.

And then...she tipped over the edge. Her body spasmed, her back arching off the bed, her vision going white. Lando's name fell from her lips like a prayer, a broken, breathless moan that seemed to echo in the room. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her boneless

Lizzie's mind was still spinning, her body thrumming with aftershocks, as Lando pulled away, his eyes dark and satisfied. He crawled back up her body, his hands roaming over her skin, his lips finding hers in a rough, needy kiss.

She could taste herself on his lips, the familiarity and intimacy of it sending a shiver through her. She could feel him, hard and strained against her hip, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers roaming down his back.

Lando groaned into her mouth, his hips instinctively grinding against hers. He was losing his composure, his touch becoming more impatient, more desperate. He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough and hoarse. "Lizzie," he whispered, his fingers digging into her hips, "I need—"

“Condom,” she gasped. “Bedside table.”

Lando's eyes darkened, his expression turning almost predatory, as he shifted off her, slipping out of the sweatpants he wore. 

He reached over to the bedside table, his eyes never leaving hers, and grabbed a condom from the drawer. His fingers trembled slightly as he ripped open the foil, his movements jerky with impatience.

He had it on in record time, Lizzie watching him, her breath catching in her throat. He was glorious, all coiled muscle and heat, and he was hers. He pushed her legs apart, settling between them, his body covering hers.

Lizzie was already on edge again, her body still sensitive from her orgasm. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him to her, wanting him as close as possible. Lando groaned, his forehead dropping to hers as he rubbed against her, his breathing uneven.

"I need you," he mumbled, his voice raw, and Lizzie couldn't help but shiver at the sound. "Need you so much." She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything else fell away.

Lando's breath caught as he looked into her eyes, as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He shifted his hips, his tip nudging at her entrance, and a gasp fell from her lips. They were so close, so close, and yet he still hesitated for a moment, his face a question.

Lizzie knew what he was asking without words and she nodded, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes," she whispered, her voice a ragged plea. "Please. I need you, too."

That’s all he needed. With the sound of one sharp breath...he pushed in. It was like nothing she’d ever felt. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only feel him. 

A moan slipped from her lips, deep and rough, as he began to move, slow and gentle at first. Every slide, every thrust sent a jolt of electricity through her veins, and she could feel him—every shudder, every sound, every tremble… He was moving slowly, almost tortuously, his eyes on hers, his teeth gritted in restraint. His breath was coming in harsh gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Lizzie reached up, her fingers tracing his jaw, her touch both soothing and arousing. 

"Harder," she whispered, her voice a plea, her nails digging into his skin. "Please, I need—I need you."

His control snapped. Lando's hands slammed down next to her head, gripping the sheets, the muscles in his arms straining. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, deeper, rougher than the last. 

He leaned down, his breaths hot against her neck, his hips moving relentlessly against hers. He was everywhere, surrounding her, consuming her. “God, Lizzie...” he groaned, his voice raw and guttural. “You’re so fucking perfect, so goddamn beautiful, I can’t—I can’t—"

She could feel him coming undone, every movement, every word, every ragged gasp was a piece of him breaking off and falling into her. She arched against him, her body meeting his with every thrust, seeking more, always more, scrabbling for purchase on the sweat slick skin of his back. "Don't hold back," Lizzie gasped, her fingers sliding into his hair. "Let go, let me see you."

That was all it took for the last vestiges of restraint to snap. Lando lost himself completely in her, his body driving into hers without restraint, one hand gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. 

She could feel him spiraling, coming undone, and she wanted to see it, to feel it, to be the one to undo him. She pulled him closer, her legs tightening around his waist. "Come for me," she gasped, her voice a pleading plea. "Please, Lando, come with me."

He let out a rough, guttural moan as if the words were a command he couldn't refuse. He was so close, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, to prolong this moment. She could feel him teetering on the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, more erratic. "Lizzie...f-f-fuck..." he managed to get out through clenched teeth, as if those were the only words he could remember.

She pulled him down, her fingers gripping his hair, "Let go," she gasped, her voice rough and broken. "Let go, Lando. I've got you, I promise."

He drove into her again, and her Orgasm slammed into her like a sucker punch. 

It was like a switch was flicked. He buried himself in her, a gasp torn from his lungs as he came undone. It was like nothing she'd ever felt, the power and the beauty and the absolute trust in it. She held him through it, her hands mapping his skin, her lips finding his, kissing him with everything she had. He was shaking, trembling, vulnerable, and all she wanted to do was hold him close and never let go.

He collapsed against her, his body boneless and heavy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His head was tucked into the crook of her neck, and she could feel the rapid thump of his heart against her chest. She held him close, her fingers stroking his hair gently, as if he was something fragile.

They stayed like that for a while, the minutes ticking by in silence, the only sound in the room their breathing and the occasional beat of the clock. Lando's breaths were slowly returning to normal, his body relaxed and sated. Lizzie's heart was still racing, her mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just happened.

Lando eventually raised his head, looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "You...okay?" he whispered, his voice still a little rough.

Lizzie nodded, a small smile on her lips. "More than okay," she said, her voice soft and sated. "That was..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to describe it.

Lando let out a tired, but satisfied chuckle. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, his eyes roaming over her face with a possessive glint. He propped himself up on one elbow, running his free hand over her curves, as if unable to keep his hands off her.

She shivered under his touch, her body still sensitive from their encounter. She reached up, her finger tracing his bottom lip, her eyes mapping the features of his face. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Lando's gaze softened, something almost like awe in his eyes. He caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing her knuckles. "You're the beautiful one," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and sincere.

She couldn't help but blush under his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her chest tighten. She couldn't believe he was looking at her like that, as if she was the only person in the world. 

It was intoxicating, and beautiful and she found herself wanting to drown in it, in him. 

[kashverse]

dad!choso with baby cho at gymnastics practice?

another request sent earlier in feb…i'm sorry for the delay, please enjoy. choso family was first introduced in this post :)

raising four kids was no joke, but you and choso had somehow mastered the art of controlled chaos. your two sets of twins—yes, two, because the kamo genes clearly had a thing for balance—were the living proof of that. the older twin boys were forces of nature, a perfect blend of talent and unshakable confidence, while the younger twin girls had inherited their father’s quiet intensity, which made them intimidating by default.

gymnastics had been a surprise addition to the list of sports your boys excelled at. not that you doubted their ability, but with how aggressively they tackled every other sport—basketball, ice hockey, track—you hadn't expected them to have the grace required for floor routines and balance beams. yet, there they were, flipping through the air with the same ease they had when dunking a basketball.

"not gonna lie, i'm impressed," you mused, watching one of your sons land a perfect double backflip off the vault. "naturally," choso nodded, arms crossed, looking every bit the proud father. "they have the best genes."

"bold statement for a man who can barely do a somersault," you teased.

choso frowned. "i can do a somersault."

"can and should are different things, babe."

meanwhile, the younger kamo twins sat a little ways off, watching their brothers with unreadable expressions. while their brothers were all about high-energy sports, the girls had taken a different approach—more calculated, more deliberate. people had learned quickly not to underestimate them.

"you guys wanna try gymnastics too?" you asked, leaning down slightly. one of them—your youngest by exactly three minutes—gave you a look that could only be described as unimpressed. "no."

"why not? your brothers seem to enjoy it."

"because we like winning," the older twin stated plainly, as if that explained everything. 

choso nodded approvingly. "makes sense."

"that doesn't explain anything," you pointed out.

"we like sports where we can directly beat other people," the younger one elaborated. "team sports. combat sports. gymnastics is great and all, but it’s about individual performance. there's no opponent to crush."

ah. that explained the ice hockey and basketball obsession.

your boys, overhearing the conversation, skated over (yes, skated, because they had been on the ice rink earlier and hadn’t even bothered taking their skates off yet). one of them draped an arm over his sister’s shoulders. "you guys don’t know what you're missing. gymnastics is dope."

"dope, but not violent enough," the older twin girl deadpanned.

"not violent enough? did you miss the part where i could break my neck doing this?" he gestured wildly to the high bars.

"self-inflicted injury doesn’t count," she replied smoothly.

choso covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough to hide his laughter. you, on the other hand, had no such restraint.

"they got you there, bud."

your son scowled but didn’t argue because he knew better. instead, he turned to his brother for backup. "bro, back me up here."

"nah, they got you there."

the betrayed look on his face sent you into another fit of laughter.

"anyway," the younger twin girl continued, unfazed, "i think it's cool you guys do gymnastics. but it’s not for us."

"fair enough," your son conceded, ruffling her hair.

and just like that, the topic was settled. no dramatic arguments, no bickering. just the kamo siblings doing what they did best—being ridiculously talented, slightly terrifying, and an absolutely unstoppable force together.