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therealcocoshady · 7 months ago

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Hi coco!

Can you do a one shot about a younger actress reader?

There is a tiktok going viral about her saying that she likes older men and another where she is looking at marshall at an event with "fuck me eyes"?

Reader freaks out when marshall just slides into her dms but later they are spotted together at the paparazzi?

I just find it cute and awkward 💀

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI 🍝

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

Synopsis : You are a young actress whose crush on Eminem becomes public. You are mortified about it… until he slides in your DMs.

Author’s Note : I absolutely LOVED this request, I had to give it a go ❤️. I was inspired and I swear I never wrote anything that quickly. It is short and sweet and I hope you enjoy it. ☺️

You thought you were done being publicly embarrassed. Yet, life was proving you wrong. As an actress who had her start in her teenage years, you weren’t a stranger to embarrassment. From awkward casting calls to stupid deaths on TV, it was practically part of the job. However, as your career evolved, you thought it would go away. After all, you were now in a better position, able to choose the projects you were involved in and you had garnered the respect from your peers and the industry. Even the media had become more kind towards you. In a matter of years, you had gone from the awkward teen movie star to well-respected actress, and you were able to look back fondly to your early years. You even joked about how awkward you were, back then. The last thing you expected was for it to start all over again.

You were walking the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie, your biggest project to date. It was truly the highlight of your career : a role created specifically for you, a movie directed by someone you admired, a beautiful story told on the big screen… You had gotten your fair share of praise in the past, but you knew this was going to be your « big break ». Behind the scenes, everyone had praised your performance and told you it was « Oscars material ». You didn’t know if that was true or not, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. When you walked the red carpet at the premiere, in a custom Elie Saab gown, everything felt right and you weren’t even stressed out when you answered the questions of a few journalists present.

You look truly amazing, tonight, one commented. Who are you wearing ?

Thank you ! This is a custom Elie Saab, I feel like a princess. I sort of had to dress up for this beautiful event, you replied as you tried to shift the focus on the movie.

This is your biggest role to date, another said. How do you feel about the movie ? Have you seen it ?

I’ve seen bits and pieces. But I’m going to discover the whole thing tonight, you said with excitement. I’m very confident. Filming with such a director was an honor and I know that the result will be great. I can’t wait for everyone to see it !

One thing that everybody is really excited about is the soundtrack, too, a third journalist chimed in. Eminem was involved. Have you heard the theme song yet ?

I haven’t, you said. But it’s Eminem so I know it’s going to be absolutely fantastic ! I can’t wait to hear it !

You sound like you like his work. Have the two of you met ? They asked.

Oh, I’m his biggest fan, you said with a huge smile. His music’s the soundtrack to my life ! But no, I haven’t met him…

Tonight’s your chance, they joked. He is over there.

They pointed to him and Eminem was, indeed, a few feet away from you. He had been a celebrity crush of yours for years and you were absolutely starstruck. He was even more attractive than in pictures ! You couldn’t help but stare. This man was oozing charisma and commanding attention. You didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with « fuck me » eyes and licking your lips. For a brief instant, you completely forgot where you were, until you heard your name being called, signaling that you had to keep walking and enter the screening room. That night, you didn’t get a chance to meet your idol, though. As the lead of the movie, people kept on coming over to you and talking to you. It was probably for the best, too. You had been starstruck enough on the red carpet ad you did not trust yourself to have a pleasant exchange with him.

Of course, the video of you thirsting over Eminem went viral. It would have been kind of cute if other clips hadn’t surfaced. There were videos from years ago, of you talking about having a crush on him - God, you really didn’t have a filter, back then - and especially one interview where you were candid about being attracted by older men.

What’s your type when it comes to men and dating ? The journalist asked.

I like mature, older men, you said candidly. I’m not really attracted to people my age.

Any physical features you’re attracted to ?

Oh, it’s typical, you know, you giggled. Dark hair, blue eyes… I like a nice beard, too.

So basically… Eminem ? The interviewer playfully asked.

Oooof… You have no idea, you replied with a grin.

Isn’t he… Old enough to be your Dad, though ?

Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind calling Marshall Mathers Daddy, you giggled.

At the time, this interview didn’t make much noise. It was for an indie podcast and, seeing as you weren’t too famous at the time, it sort of flew under the radar. It was kind of a harmless joke and a nod to your thirst for him, which all your friends were very much aware of. However, the video resurfaced after the viral red carpet clip, and people were quick to make edits, soberly titled « Y/N thirsting over Eminem over the years ». Your friends jokingly forwarded them to you and you know they were being playful, but to you, it was everything but fun. You were absolutely mortified. Having a crush on him was one thing, but there was a literal video of you staring at him like you were in heat. So much for being a classy movie star…

The nail in the coffin came when Marshall was interviewed and asked to react to the video of you thirsting over him. He seemed genuinely surprised, leading to think that he wasn’t aware of the clip before the interview. All in all, he didn’t say much, he just described the whole thing as « flattering » and quickly went on to praise your performance in the movie : « We didn’t actually meet, but I saw the movie, which I worked on the soundtrack for, and she is really amazing in it. Really talented. ». Thank God, he didn’t add to your embarrassment. Your friends were going crazy over this « Come on, Y/N, he said he was flattered and that you’re talented ! That’s cute ! You should DM him or something », they encouraged you. However, you didn’t. He was clearly just being classy and not publicly embarrassing you - you did that on your own anyway.

A few days later, however, you had the biggest surprise of your life : a DM from him on Instagram. At first, you thought it was a fake account and didn’t pay it much attention but it was clearly him, verified account, blue tick and everything. You were nervous to open it and you almost didn’t want to. What would he say to you ? Most likely something along the lines of « Please don’t mention me ever again, that’s awkward, you’re awkward and your filmography is trash anyway». It actually took you a couple of days to muster the courage of opening it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything horrible. Quite the contrary, actually. He was in LA for the week and wanted to know if you’d have dinner with him. You were terrified and freaking out, but also excited. At first, you were reluctant - what if you embarrassed yourself ? But ultimately, curiosity got the best of you and you accepted. Surely, if he asked you to have dinner with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right ?

A couple of days later, the two of you went for dinner and joined at SoHo House in West Hollywood. Due to both of your fame, a members-only social club was a safe pace that allowed for privacy. You were nervous, at first, and some paranoid part of your brain was scared that it would be a complete disaster, but it was the contrary. He introduced himself as Marshall and was an absolute gentleman and a sweetheart. He mentioned he had seen a lot of your movies and described himself as an admirer of your work. The whole evening, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. He put you at ease and was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and funny as hell, too. You weren’t too sure, but it also seemed like he was subtly flirting with you, though you didn’t want to get in your own head and make assumptions. He was so chill that you weren’t star struck anymore, but you were still reasonably impressed and too scared to flirt, so you simply enjoyed conversation with him. You were usually scared to meet people you admired, afraid that you’d have a terrible interaction with them that would taint your perception of their work, but the whole dinner was heavenly and you were so glad he DMed you. In his company, time seemed like a foreign concept, so much so that you had to be kicked out of the club’s restaurant, since you were the only customers left and it was 2 in the morning.

I can’t believe we’ve been here for six hours already, you giggled. Time really flew by.

It did, he said with a smile. I’m really glad we did this, Y/N.

Me too, you said shyly.

You were in the lobby, about to part ways, and your heart was beating fast. The way he spoke your name had you feeling all the feels and you didn’t really want the moment to end. He was staring at you intently while you were nervously biting your lip, trying not to say something awkward that could ruin the night. « Don’t be that person, Y/N », you thought to yourself.

Thank you for coming, he said. When you didn’t reply to my DM, I thought you didn’t really want to meet. But I had a really great time tonight.

Yeah, sorry I… I actually took a few days to open your message because I was scared, you confessed. I mean, we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room tonight, but I did kind of make a fool of myself on the red carpet. And when you wrote, I was kind of nervous.

You didn’t make a fool of yourself, he said reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was kind of adorable.

No need to sugarcoat it, you said nervously. You’ve seen that video of me thirsting over you…

I have, he said as he got closer to you. I’m pretty lucky…

A-Are you ? You asked nervously.

Yeah… Thank God they didn’t catch me staring at you the whole night of the premiere, he continued. Because I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re gorgeous.

Oh ? Uhm… I mean… The glam team really did a good job, you babbled. And the stylists, too.

They really did, he said with a smile as he got even closer. You were stunning.

I mean, it was a lot of work for me to look good, you know ? I mean I normally look like tra-… I mean, not trash but you know it’s…

There you were. Embarrassing yourself. There was only so much time you could spend in his intoxicating presence without making a fool of yourself and, apparently, it was six hours. He was smiling and you nerves were getting the best of you. You didn’t drink too much at dinner and you couldn’t even blame it on the cocktails. Just your dumb brain making interactions awkward. Thank God the lobby was dimly lit, otherwise, he would have seen your face turn bright red. You cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

I-I’m sorry, you said. I’m not good at talking to hot people. I mean you’re… Oh my God, why can’t I shut up ? I’m sorry, it’s late and -

I’ll help you, he chuckled as he cupped your face and kissed you.

The kiss was soft and romantic and you could feel him smile into it. He had one hand stroking your cheek while the other one was on your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fully leaned into the kiss as your lips parted ways, allowing his tongue to caress yours. Thank God it was late and you were the only people there, having some sense of privacy while the kiss got more and more passionate. When he broke the embrace, Marshall grabbed your hand and pressed his forehead to yours.

Would you like to come to my room ? He asked with a smile.

Ok, you nodded - still a bit dizzy from the kiss.

In the elevator, you kissed hungrily and there was absolutely no doubt as to where this was headed. You usually weren’t the kind of girl to sleep on the first date, but your five-date policy was thrown to the fire. Marshall was way too hot, way too charismatic. Also, you’d fantasized about him long enough to make an exception. If every wet dream of yours he had inhabited over the years counted as a date, this was actually overdue. You made it to the room and quickly ended up on the bed with him on top of you, nipping at the sweet spot in your neck.

Marshall, you moaned.

You meant « Daddy », right ? He asked with a smirk.

You stared at him with your mouth open, almost embarrassed as you remembered your comment about how you wouldn’t mind calling him Daddy. Your shocked expression made him laugh and he didn’t give you time to reply. Instead, he captured your lips and ran his hands under your blouse. That night, you did end up calling him « Daddy », as well as screaming his name while he ravished you in every way possible until the both of you passed out from exhaustion.

The next morning, as you woke up in his arms, you weren’t too sure what to do or say, wondering if that was a one time thing or not. However, you weren’t confused for too long as Marshall asked you on another dinner date. You saw each other as much as possible for the remainder of his stay in California. It was meant to be casual, at first, but it quickly became more and, even though the two of you were busy, you tried to make it work. Whenever he came to LA to work with Dre, he would stay at your place and, as soon as you had free time, you flew to Michigan to spend time with him. It was only a matter of time until rumors started to emerge about the two of you, though you were careful not to be spotted together.

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI : Y/N SPOTTED IN DETROIT.

Oscar-nominated actress Y/N was spotted in Detroit last week. She was seen grabbing a takeout order from Mom’s Spaghetti on Woodward Avenue. Through the years, Y/N has been quite vocal about her love of Eminem, but it seems like she’s doing more than supporting the Rap God’s business venture. The hoodie she was wearing does look a lot like the one Eminem was wearing a few days earlier when he was spotted attending the Lions game. Last time she walked the red carpet, Y/N was seen thirsting over the Detroit rapper. Is there a chance they could appear at the Oscars together ?

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine

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wolvndmouth · 3 months ago

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Guys. I think about this shot a lot. Seven (7) times a day, minimum.

This is the exact moment Wade realizes that Logan looks at him, like really looks at him. Logan’s eyes have always been reading Wade in every way they can. Annoyed and scowling aside, he tries in earnest to understand who Wade is through his cracked humor and self-depreciation. No matter how angry he is, no matter how confused he is, he has eyes on Wade. When they’re staring at each other from opposite sides of a gun, when they’re sitting across each other in the diner, when they first fight in the Void, when they argue in the Odyssey; each one of these scenes have a moment where Wade is showing his cards and Logan, even through his rage and thirst to hurt, stills himself to listen and learn for as long as he can.

The man has no choice in the matter. Charles left him with the burden of knowing what it is to be loved, even at his most difficult. He’s felt the healing that comes from someone being able to look past his defenses and aggression and have the patience to plant compassion in the spaces of him that need it the most. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to unbury all the good he had before the bad, but it doesn’t stop him from having the guts to be gentle and kind when someone least deserves it. One of his gentlest moments is when he takes Juggernaut’s helmet off Cassandra to save her, and his wish to be the man that Charles thinks he is is what strengthens his ability to comfort the displaced and love-starved child that Nova really is. It is that same hope that allows him to take a chance on Wade. All Logan can do is hear him out and do his best to see the merc for who he truly is. It takes him some time, but from the moment they met in the bar, to joining Wade’s world, Logan’s gaze never wavers; it only changes as he grows to understand Wade more. He is able to look past Deadpool, and see Wade Wilson.

‘Never take your eyes off an enemy’ evolves into looking at a mirror to his own soul. Wade is everything Logan is, and everything Logan isn’t. They are yin and yang down to the very cores of their being, and for Logan, it’s a tough pill to swallow when he realizes just how easy it is for Wade to love. It’s not only consistently thrown in his face with Wade’s repeated reminders of what’s at stake, but Wade showing him the picture of everything he has left forces him to reflect on the walls he’s built around himself and why. He has made so many mistakes, and he can do nothing but examine his own failures as an X-Man and as Logan himself. He is astounded by Wade’s ability to survive with his heart so crudely stapled to his sleeve, and when he looks at that photo, there’s a piece of him that almost wouldn’t mind being a part of the portrait. He thinks of a world where Scott doesn’t have to beg him to put on the suit. Where Jean, Storm, and Beast aren’t dead. Where Charles is still there to remind him everyday that he matters. Maybe a world where Charles could meet Wade and remind him that he matters too. But “when they fix your world” becomes “if they fix your world”, I imagine in the bitterness of that, Logan starts off repulsed by Wade’s openness to overfill his cup and share what overflows. It’s a slow eventuality, but inevitable nonetheless; Logan learns how to let Wade pour into him. His eyes soften and steady towards Wade as their relationship progresses. When being introduced to Althea, it’s obvious that something inside him has calmed, and the soft nod he gives is the only way Logan knows how to say that actually wants to be there. He’s answered Wade’s call and didn’t walk away. Logan can finally look at Wade with a sureness that he’s not going anywhere.

[GIF by bettercallcohen]

And I think Wade can feel that. Wade is so open because his universe is so small compared to everyone else’s. 9 people. 9 people who make him feel seen, make his heart full, and that make him feel like he belongs somewhere. So when he’s presented with the chance to add #10 to the Polaroid, when someone can actually see him through his vulgarities, through the violence, through his cancerous mutation, it’s more than just surprising when it’s someone like Logan. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him like he’s home. No one has looked at him that way since Vanessa. And he probably felt like no one would ever look at him that way ever again. But then here comes Logan, all eyes on him, shredding him to pieces and picking him apart. Wade is the only person he knows in this world, and Wade is the only person in this world that knows him. Logan is forced to confront the idea of being seen and being needed by someone again. Wade comes to him in a crazy, desperate attempt to save the people he loves, and instead he finds one more person to violently stitch into the fabric of his existence.

It’s intense, probably for the both of them, but Wade only knows intensity. Maximum effort. Nothing is off the table, nothing is left behind. Wade’s eyes are as loud as his mouth and bear a burden of their own; a burden of honesty when it comes to conveying his feelings as being one of the only things the Weapon-X experimentation left true and untouched. He sees the truth and they speak the truth. He could see right through Logan from the moment they met. Where Logan could only see a traitor, the Worst Wolverine, Wade saw someone that could teach him how to be a hero. Where Logan could only see himself as the wrong guy for the job, Wade knew this man was the only one capable of saving everyone and everything he loved in this world. He just wasn’t expecting Logan to become part of that world.

Wade is a tractor beam for both the jaded and the gentle, and there is a softness in his eyes that is warm and inviting and penetrating all at the same time. For Wade, it’s not hard to look at Logan and see the tired parts of himself in him. He sees in him the familiar longing for death. He sees a world where he doesn’t have Cable’s time machine to make things right, where Vanessa and Peter are still dead, and he’s blowing out birthday candles alone. Logan is a mirror in his own right; a reflection of not only his failures, but his fears as well. The fear that there may be a day where his luck runs out, and being crazy isn’t enough to save his world.

Crazy is what Wade does best, and the two of them have more than enough instances where “your crazy matches my crazy”. But it’s not hard to see that the way Logan looks at Wade during those moments morphs from a sharpened hostility to a warm familiarity. Though the context of this last scene is Logan fulfilling his duty as a wingman, it is the very second Wade realizes that the other man’s gaze has lost its vitriol and conviction has taken its place. It’s the moment Wade figures out that Logan is serious about wanting to stay, serious about learning how to live in his universe, and serious about his change of heart towards him. It’s a Logan that has accepted his twin flame, and is comforted by the thought that he has someone now that can not only take everything he can give and more, but can bite back just as hard. It’s no secret that Wade holds a space for Logan, but he’s never been concerned with whether or not Logan has done the same. So the moment he’s met with a gaze that is as sure and true as Logan’s is, Wade knows there’s not only room for him to bare all, but now there’s someone that won’t shield their eyes and look away when he does.

#this movie got me fucked up honestly #all i can do is scoop up whatever is left of my brain rot and shove it back into my skull along with them #deadpool x wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #deadclaws #loganpool #wade wilson #wolverine #deadpool #wolverpool

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imfoive · 29 days ago

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2:14

Bang Chan x Reader (fem.) Genre: Established Relationship au!, Fluff Warnings: suggestive, somewhat proofread WC: 719 A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head all day! Inspired by my 6 billion alarms lmao Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

DRABBLE ──────────────────────────

It started out as a reminder.

A Valentine’s Day message.

The time felt romantic, the words even more.

It started as an alarm that was forgotten.

The first time Chan set it, he was kicking his legs in the air, giddy at the mere thought of the idea the following day.

Texting Y/N a simple message.

Words he hadn’t uttered yet, planning to do so on Valentine’s Day.

And the next day, when the alarm rang at 2:14, he grinned widely, his fingers flying across the screen. Typing out those letters. Words he would say to her in person later to watch her reaction in real-time. Words he would repeat throughout the night as he wined and dined her, special plans on this special day for his special person.

“I love you.”

Then the following day it rang again, waking Chan from a blissful slumber. They had spent all night, all morning tangled in each other’s limbs from their eventful Valentine’s Day the evening prior. And as Y/N prepared for the day in the bathroom, he stared at the ringing tune, his heart still full from their eventful celebration. He had realized he had forgotten to set it as just a one-time thing. Yet couldn’t resist as he reached over, his fingers began to type, sending a message. Watching her own phone screen come to life with the notification of a message from him just next to.

He grinned once more, wide. Just imagining her face as she opened the message. Reading three words he had repeated as he seared kisses onto her.

Of course watching her reaction was rewarding. Her smile bloomed as she fell back onto the mattress, playfully tackling him. Responding to his message.

And then it became a cherished routine.

Every afternoon at 2:14, the familiar tune of this one alarm jolted him into thoughts of her. Chan would reach for his phone, fingers ready to type the words he longed to whisper into her ears.

His friends would stare at him, wondering why he had such a specific alarm, such a specific task he had to do every single day. This new, peculiar thing that would soon turn into a habit.

He’d simply smile and shake his head, sending the message before returning to his work, awaiting Y/N’s response that never failed to brighten his day.

And he did receive a response.

He always received a response.

Watching his screen light up a few minutes later with those heartfelt words returned.

When he would huff and puff, rubbing at his face after an argument he had with her one morning over something he didn’t even remember anymore, his alarm would remind him that it wasn’t that deep. That it was something stupid they had gotten all worked up over, such a trivial thing that shouldn’t ruin their days. He would sigh, glancing at the lockscreen of their picture together, smiles and dimples, before guilt ate away at him.

His fingers danced over the screen.

“I love you”

And soon enough, her response would bring warmth back to his heart.

Chan would return home, and immediately go into Y/N’s arms, the two of them apologizing for whatever had made them bitter towards each other only hours ago. Melting into each other.

Then the messages evolved.

From simple, “I love yous” to “I love you, I’m sorry.”

“I love you. Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“I love you. Doctors appointment today, I’ll pick you up.”

“I love you. Baby’s the size of a peach pit now.”

At 2:14, his phone would buzz again, and knowing smiles would pass between his friends as he sighed, feeling the weight of his busy life. From the strenuous task he didn’t realize he was drowning in, he’d glance at the snapshot of the new picture on his lockscreen. His lips would thin into a sweet smile as he stared at the screen, at the love of his life, his daughter cradled in between their grasps, twinkling eyes staring into the camera.

And suddenly Chan felt extra fluttery. Those feelings he felt the first time he set the alarm, the first time he sent the message, surged back with its familiarity.

His fingers typed.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

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forhappysake · 11 months ago

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Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought.

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard.

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well.

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?”

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand.

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course.

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall.

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam.

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident.

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall.

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work.

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.”

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?”

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. “Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.”

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad.

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet.

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own.

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised:

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon. -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up.

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place.

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him.

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip.

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-”

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval.

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice.

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete.

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim.

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked.

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers.

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.”

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality.

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful.

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.”

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation.

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions.

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.”

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress.

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.”

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face.

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you.

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go.

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you.

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?”

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.”

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear.

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door.

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest.

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands.

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress.

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled.

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly.

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said.

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?”

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit.

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head.

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit.

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did.

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you.

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt.

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.”

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered.

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed.

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act.

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.”

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you.

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.” You agreed.

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him.

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?”

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice.

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged.

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt.

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle.

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?”

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

2K notes · View notes

stonerfromlesbos · 1 month ago

Text

We are meant to be. | b.e

summary: the truth, this comforts or scares you? perhaps she’s not the only one with dark secrets.

warnings: soft smut, suspense, plot, !toxic billie, !dom billie, !sub reader, graphic scenes, a lot of violence in general.

read part one here!

— 3:32am, in your shared apartament, LA.

“unknown number, 2 new messages”

what the actual fuck? you thought to yourself.. who could be texting you at 3 am?? as soon as you open the messages, your heart start beating fast.

she knew damn well what she was doing to you, but you decided to not give in so easily. you couldn’t just handle yourself to her after all that you did… it wouldnt be fair with all the sacrifices you did just for her. she wanted to play that game, but she didn’t even expected you to be ahead of her. you turned your phone off and tried to sleep, but how could you sleep if shes on your mind? her touch, her kisses, her gasps for air… god that was still pretty fresh in your memory.

she always been on your fucking mind.

but your blood was still boiling… and the reason had an name, Julie. she was that desperate to get attention that she almost jumped on billie knowing damn well that you had a crush on her? that was just too fucked up, and you’d make sure she knew that.

— the next day, 12am, LA.

You started hearing some noises coming from the kitchen, and a good smell of fresh breakfast.. you woke up in an baggy tee and just panties, going to check if julie was doing anything for the both of you.

As you’re going down the stairs, you start to notice there a few things are off… you can hear julie giggling uncontrollably, perhaps she invited some guy she was fucking to our apartment? you didn’t knew. As you peeked to look at the kitchen, you saw billie standing there, absolutely nonchalant while your friend was almost begging for her to gave her attention, to fuck her, or anything that the basic shallow girl wanted.

“billie? wtf are you doing here?” you say almost smirking.. you knew damn well what she was up to, you knew all this time. they both look at you, billie opening an side smirk a the moment she saw you only in a tee. julie was clearly getting pissed at this, she was trying so hard, and you got billie’s attention without even trying to.

“good morning princess…” she says playing dumb and ignoring the question as her smirk turns into an smile as she looked at you up and down.

“i asked you something, and how do you know where i live?” you said forcing an confused face as she smirked more at you.

“julie texted me, and i asked for your address, so she gave it to me.” she says, in a teasing tone. she was clearly trying to mess with you.

“why would you do that?” you say as julie just stay sitting in the balcony chair and stares at the both of you clearly uncomfortable for not being the center of attention.

“you didn’t replied to me properly when i asked you to come over to my place, remember? so i had to take another way honey…” she says getting closer to you, as you both forgot julies existence.. she start speaking.

“did you invite her to come over to your place…? you clearly forgot to tell me that.” she feels excluded and used as she takes her purse, walking towards the door, slamming it as she gets out of the apartment.

you were about to talk something, as you both hear an alarm coming from the tv, it was breaking news from LA.

“there was two bodies found in los angeles this morning.” until that part it was “normal” for LA… but as the presenter continues to speak, you two were left with your mouths wide open.

“one of them known as frank enastacio, a 67 old famous actor, recently envolved with multiples scandals evolving the s.a’s of minors. and the other was an young girl, mostly known by “drew” or just the ex best friend of the world famous popstar billie eilish.”

we were both staring at the news, thinking about drew and that random guy. until a picture of him appears on the screen, and you quickly recognized him.

“come on, do you know who i am, darling? i could make all your wishes come true.”

you could remember vividly her gross and suggestive tone, trying to get his hands all over you, trying to manipulate you, but he couldn’t do that. billie stopped him, she protected you, “you’d still wonder how she knew the exact moment that he would try something…” that was an fucking lie, you knew damn well how she knew that.

you thought of it.

you smirked.

as billie stared at the screen not believing that her childhood best friend was actually dead.. you wrapped your arms around her as she cried on your shoulder. burying her face on your chest… they weren’t close anymore, but she’d still in shock. the presenter continues…

“theres been an alarming increase in the violent homicide rate, the police states that it couldn’t be just one serial killer, but two of them. the circumstances and particularities of the murders are different.” billie start staring at the tv, watching it carefully to not miss anything.

“theres the most violent one, we’ve been speculating that this one only murdered young girls.. the list goes on odessa zion, found last week buried on the woods, quenlin blackwell found on the same grave as odessa, amelia dimoldenberg, found on a lake.. and lastly, drew starkley, found on a shallow grave a few cities away of the big los angeles.”

That broke her down, everyone knew that odessa and queen were billie’s best friends… odessa was more, she was the girl that billie thought she would marry. they never dated, but everyone knew that billie fucking loved her.

“the most ‘chill’ one murders murders only men, usually older and unknown men. the list of name’s wasnt published because mostly this men weren’t public figures, just one of them was known, frank enastacio.”

that was getting fucking interesting.

— 2 weeks later, 8pm, in billie’s bedroom.

“babe i don’t have anything to wear today.. i can’t go meet ur friends looking like im homeless.” you said with a pount face as she grabbed your chin giggling and giving a little kiss on your mouth.

“look at the closet babe..” she says smirking as she put on her tie.

You just rushed into her big closet finding an big black dress with an little bag on the side.. you opened the bag and found a lacy black lingerie, hearing her voice behind you.

“you’re going to use this tonight.” she says as she clicks on a little bottom on her phone and the underwear start vibrating. “just to let you know.” she smirked looking at you up and down.

“you’re evil..” you strip in front of her, putting only the lingerie on, after that you turn around and get closer to her.. “turn it on.” you say in a demanding tone as she smirks back at you.

“as you wish.” she turns it on, putting it on the max. you squirm so hard that you automatically close your legs, almost falling on the ground, but billie doesnt let you fall and carries you to her bed. “not that tough right now, huh?” she spoke mocking you

“i want you to hurt me. fucking hurt me.” you said between moans and squirms.. as she hear that, her smirk grows wider.

“oh yeah? you want me to ruin you babe? you’re such a greedy whore. hands behind your back.” she says as she stops the vibrations, making you gasp, you quickly turn around and obey her. she took her tie and tied your wrists together, and suddenly you knew that she wasn’t playing.

— 10pm, same day, at billie’s friends house, LA.

you were drinking and enjoying the party, but you looked really tired… it was billies fault for bending you over and fucking you brainless before this.

but she wasn’t chill at all, she looked almost.. you know, paranoid. it was unusual, and you did nothing about it… you just watched her as she walked, whispering things for herself as she dragged you into the car to go back home without saying a word. you were getting pissed.. because this time, you didnt knew what it was.

— 10:50pm, at billie’s place, LA.

she didn’t say a word to you since you two got home, you decided to take a shower and after that you would sleep. after the shower, billie was already on the bed, with an sleepy look, you lay beside her, getting cozy on her arms as usual. you slept like an angel.

until you woke up in the middle of the night, and she wasn’t by your side anymore… you heard a sobbing noise coming from one of billie’s rooms, as you got up and started slowly walking to see where it was.. you saw the only room that was locked by a key with the door wide open

You walked like a feather, trying not to make any noise. As you got almost in front of the door, you tried to see what was going on there… billie was on her knees on the floor, as the room was full of wallets, ids and even desmembered body parts of everyone you ever dated…

“how could i do that do her..? her friends know it i could see in their faces!” she was crying, sobbing…

“billie? whats this? whats happening?” you say as you try to understand her, backing off a bit when you saw she had a knife in her hands.

“i killed drew, odessa… even fucking amelia! i shouldnt’ve done that… i only do it for you.. to protect you, im a fucking monster.. go away i know you want to… you dont deserve you even a little bit… im so fucking sick…” she says as she starts crying and sobbing.. you gently took the knife off her hands, throwing it somewhere.

“we are soulmates, billie.”

“w-what did you just say?” she says finally looking at you, at your soft smile, it felt like you were comforting her for a bad grade… not for murdering people.

“you didn’t kill odessa, drew.. or amelia, i did… darling i know everything about you too, isn’t that crazy? i always saw you on the screens… i always knew we were meant to be.”

“we are meant to be, billie.”

“forever.”

SORRY FOR THE WAITT, i was trying to write smut but as you can see… it didnt worked outt, HOPE YA ENJOY ITT (ofc the plot is inspired by you

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princessbrunette · 3 months ago

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⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … HOT TO GO! ♡

5, 6, 5678!

the day had come — and of course, at the busiest hour of pizzadeliveryboy!popes shift. they still had this janky red landline phone from the 80’s in the kitchen of the restaurant, with possibly the most obnoxious ring one could fathom. like, really — it was no wonder these things weren’t household items anymore. the sound was ear piercing.

popes too busy sprinkling cheese to pick up — so you’re greeted with a disinterested thirty-something year old who barely got out his ‘you’ve reached HTG Pizza how can i help ya—” before you were blasting his ear off with—

“PUT POPE ON THE PHONE!”

you had broken up with your boyfriend. one year of toxicity, pain and torment all in the name of saving face. kook life was cruel, and appearance so often mattered more than feeling — and though your boyfriend treated you terribly… the life was safe and sweet.

maybe you were the cruel one for making pope wait. he’d been too patient for his own good— watching you try to uphold your perfect reputation whilst confiding in him on the side. he knew you were a sweet girl, simply making a bunch of not so sweet choices, and pope would never condone cheating — but soon the two of you started fooling around, which lead to you screwing around (which is just fooling around without dinner.) and just like that, he’d caught feelings.

he’d do anything to break the two of you up. no really — the term ‘praying on someone’s downfall’ was never something that the heyward boy was familiar with until he met you. it started off as petty things, reporting every instagram picture of the two of you together. this quickly evolved into sending you check in texts at angel number hours like 11:11, so that maybe you’d think some divine figure was trying to guide the two of you together. terribly enough, he even dragged kiara down to that crystal shop downtown so he could ask the nice lady with pretty feathers in her hair what crystal he could use to break you up with your boyfriend.

kiara told him in was bad karma to pray on peoples downfall.

but now he’s cycling to your house, your empty house might he mention and all but dumping his bike on your front lawn because for once it doesn’t matter who sees. hell, he even ripped off the uniform visor on his head and tossed it. you’re there at the door waiting for him under the warm porch light in just a skirt and bra like you’d already worked on getting your clothes off for him.

“i’m so sorry i had to finish my shift i obviously would have come as soon as—” he’s rambling before he’s reached you, but you’re shaking your head with a purely lustful look in your eye, breathing out a—

“— shut up.”

and as soon as he’s reached you you’re diving into his arms, legs round his waist — lips to his and you really, really didn’t care who saw. you fumble for the door anyway, the two of you bumping into things as you slam it shut behind the two of you. he takes his lips away just for a second to suck in a breath and whisper “i didn’t bring any pizza this time—” but you clearly didn’t care, stuffing your tongue back into his mouth. well, that settles that. it was never about the pizza.

every surface. pope heyward was doing you on every flat surface of that egregiously large house of yours — and soon, after much loud and bordering on aggressive sex, you’ve finally wound up on your back in bed, staring into eachothers eyes as he rolls his hips, little “ohhh, ah, ah…”’s leaving your sore and sensitive mouth.

“god i’m so glad to have you now. i can have you now, right?” popes brows furrow, looking desperate and urgent. the two of you had sweat so much he doesn’t even smell like stuffed crusts and garlic dip anymore.

“was always yours. m’sorry pope i’m so sorry!” you sob when the curve in his cock nudges your cervix because he can’t help but bottom out fully when you say it. he kept anticipating that he’d wake up to his alarm and this had all been a beautiful dream, reminding him to hang on just another day.

“you’re okay i— i’d wait forever for this. fuck.” he shudders, face dropping for a moment to press an earnest kiss to your collar bone.

“can i tell you something?” you grasp him, speaking in a hushed tone, saved for a vulnerable moment like this.

“anything!” he promises, back to eye level.

“i…i really don’t like the pizza you’d bring, i mean papa johns is just way better—”

“no yeah that’s completely understandable. i mean totally—”

you’re rolling him onto his back now. the undying urge to make up for lost time taking over and instantly you’re sinking down onto his length and grinding like your life depended on it.

“shit. oh my god.” he groans, dishevelled in your pink sheets. a hand comes to his forehead in disbelief at the sight of your naked body riding him like this, so different from your usual rushed encounters before anyone returns home or in the back of his pizza fan — and the other thumb grazes your clit, eyes glued to the way you’re swallowing him, leaving a creamy ring at his flushed base.

you follow his gaze, reaching down to spread yourself for him. quite the sight.

“who’s is it?” he presses your clit and you howl, clutching his wrist. “who’s baby? tell me please.”

“yours pope!” you cry.

“who’s?”

“s’all yours pope! it always was!”

perhaps he knew this already, but god did it feel good to hear.

#chicago mentioned….. iykyk #hotpizzadeliveryboy!pope #pope heyward prompt

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rs-hawk · 2 months ago

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Creeptober: Day One

Slenderman’s Forest

Slenderman x AFAB Reader (no gender specified)

CW: slight horror themes, stalking, dubcon/noncon, pain, manipulation, public, etc

You grew up on Creepypastas and horror chainmail texts. As a kid, you would find and devour all the CreepyPastas and scary stories you could before shakily watching cartoon theories on YouTube or getting on iFunny. As you got older, that evolved into an obsession with horror movies and stories.

That’s why you’re so mad at yourself when you play straight into a horror movie stereotype.

You decide to go for a walk in a nearby walk around dusk with your dog. You’ve been working so much lately that you feel like you haven’t been paying as much attention to him, which makes you feel terrible. So, you lace up your sneakers and get your dog’s leash.

The park near your house has a small patch of woods separating the playgrounds from the basketball courts, but you’ve never thought too much about it. There’s a well lit path, and even at night, there’s usually a few people wandering around the place. Why would you worry in a situation like that?

To your surprise, there seems to be no one there when you get there. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen that happen. Still though, the lights are on, and your dog is excited. Nothing is setting off alarm bells.

As you walk, your dog starts pulling and whining. You roll your eyes, thinking he just wants to run, so you indulge him. You pick up your speed, walking a bit faster than normally you would want to, then breaking out into a jog. Your dog can sense the strange presence now following you, but you brush off the goosebumps springing up along your spine. The hairs raising on the back of your neck.

The more steps you take, the more interested the creature lurking in the woods becomes. Eventually your dog yanks so hard on the leash that it rips out of your hand. Stumbling to a stop, you blink rapidly, surprised at the sudden outburst of your companion. However, it only takes a moment for you to recover, shouting his name and rushing after him.

When you break through the tree line, you realize you’re at the playground. Looking around, you start calling out your dog’s name again. Every time you shout his, you hear someone… whispering. It makes you pause. You shout his name. Someone whispers in your ear. It’s like the wind has gained its own voice.

A shiver creeps down your spine, dragging those goosebumps back up. There seems to be a chill in the air. Fumbling for your phone, you struggle to unlock it, your hands shaking so hard that it’s hard to type in your password.

Before you can still your fingers enough to type, a long black tendril snakes along the ground, curling around your ankle. Panic sets in. Your heart starts racing. Your stomach drops. Your chest tightens. Your lungs feel like they’re giving out. You can’t even part your lips to scream or cry.

Out of the darkness, a towering figure emerges. Your mouth goes dry at the sight. It’s like all feeling has left your limbs. The tendril trails up your leg, curling around your waist. As the figure approaches, flashes of nightmares you’ve had flicker through your mind. It makes it difficult for you to focus on whatever is in front of you.

It takes several moments through the haze of fear to see, but you realize what it is. Slenderman. A laugh almost escapes your dry mouth. You’ve seen the pictures. Read the stories. He’s just a creature created by some random dude in a photo contest. You were already double digits when this thing started making its way around online. You remember your friends, in hushed whispers, talking about how to summon him and how to protect yourselves if you had to be in the woods alone, even during the day.

Yet, over a decade later, here you are. Standing in front of him. As if he’s always been real. Is this what a tulpa is? Through the haze, you try to remember everything you can about tulpas. They’re like imaginary friends brought to life in Buddhism, right? You can’t remember. Pop culture references flooding your mind and fear clouding it makes proper thought difficult.

As you struggle to think, another tendril darts out, curling around your other leg. Then your arm, then your throat. That snaps you back to attention. Staring at the thing in front of you. He is featureless, as long renditions say. You wonder if hidden behind that is a large mouth full of teeth, ready to snap you in half. What was that from? A video game? Again, you can’t remember.

Eventually the thing has you so wrapped up in his long tendrils that you’re little more than a head sticking out of a mass of them. They feel strange. Almost like cold air being blown all over your body from a hair dryer. The creature is nearly face to face with you now. He reaches out, curling his fingers over the tendril that is wrapped around your neck.

It feels like your heart is skipping beats. Your blood is pounding in your ears. Your fingertips feel numb. Your lips are cold. You can hardly breathe.

He strokes your cheek, sending another onslaught of shivers down your spine. That voice like air is whispering your name again in your ears. That’s when, through the flashes of nightmares, you realize that he is what had been calling to you. How long has he been following you?

Despite your best efforts, you can’t speak a word. He seems to be regarding you struggling, but takes no mercy. Withdrawing his tendrils so he can seemingly gaze down at your clothed body, you feel a rush of heat to your face. His large hand cups one of your breast. You start struggling again, but it’s no use. He has your arms pinned behind your back, and in seconds, he has you on your knees.

When he starts shoving his fingers in your mouth, you bite down on them, expecting to taste blood. All you taste is… chlorophyl? It gives you pause, your jaw going slack. It tastes like grass and leaves. Sure, you know you’ve bitten him enough to break his skin, but not only does he seem not to care, it doesn’t even seem like he has blood. That thought only scares you more.

When you’re forced to swallow the chlorophyll like blood as he continues to pump his long fingers in and out of your mouth, the nightmares stop. You can even move your fingers, not that given the way he’s holding you it does you much good.

After what feels like hours but is likely only a few minutes, he draws back his fingers, a string of spit and green blood-like substance connects your lips and his fingers. You cringe at the sight of your teeth marks in his pearly white skin. Bringing his fingers up to his face, he seems to be looking at them. Looking at what you did.

You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting the worse. However, his tendrils throw you back on your back, adjusting and swarming around you until your arms are stretched high over your head, and your legs are spread apart. Struggling still does you no good. He’s still standing over you. Towering over you. All you can do is gulp, fear making your blood turn to ice.

He finally bends down, using one tendril to yank off your pants and underwear. A scream finally rips through your throat, but it’s silenced as he forces his fingers back into your mouth. Now you’re laid out on the ground, cunt exposed, with his fingers pumping in and out of your mouth in a public park. You know that there was no one here when you came, but someone could come at any minute. Someone could see this.

Slenderman, or whatever this thing really is, doesn’t seem to care about the possibility. With his free hand, he undoes his slacks, a huge cock springing from them. You try to scream again. Try to kick. Try to fight back from the thing you don’t want to be pushed inside of you, but it’s no use.

The whispering voice is trying to soothe you, but the cloud of fear is still smothering you. As you struggle, you feel the thick length being pushed into your cunt. Your eyes roll back in your head as you’re stretched almost impossibly wide on the staff of the creature. The whispers turn to airy grunts and moans, even though less than half the length is being pumped in and out of you.

The fingers in your mouth have stilled, just being shoved deep enough that you can’t scream. Despite the circumstances, your juices are leaking onto the large cock, slickening him. Letting him more easily push in and out of you. Letting him slide deeper into you.

The airy grunts quicken until you can feel a cool liquid being dumped inside of you. Slowly, he withdraws his cock, the cool liquid dripping down your cunt until you’re laying in a puddle of it.

And just like that, everything else is gone. The tendrils holding you down. The faceless monster with his fingers down your throat. All that’s left is the cum still dripping out of your cunt. Stumbling to your feet, you make your way back through the forest to your car. Your dog is asleep beside it, to your annoyance and appreciation. Unlocking the door, you get your gym bag out so you can put shorts on and wet wipes to clean up somewhat.

You wonder if he’s still watching you. An airy chuckle makes you think that he is.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕️ ❤️

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kleine-joost · 2 months ago

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Joost Dating Headcanons

a/n: who tf am i updating daily?? idk where this motivation has come from lmao

WARNINGS: there's some general smutty headcanons at the end, i'd appreciate no minors interact thanks xxx

SFW HEADCANONS

- Ok so first off, I’m so so so convinced that this man is absolutely the clingiest person EVER. Like anything you’re doing, he’ll happily join you, he asks you to travel with him., Basically everything either of you do will become a two-man job

- The only thing he’s tentative about with your relationship would be the overall publicness of it. The real fans (😎😎😎) have spotted you a couple times in photos and videos in the background of things and kind of just speculated, but mostly you’re unknown.

- But in private and with friends and stuff? Hangs on you all the time, bringing you into conversations he’s in so you can add more details to his stories.

- Also I have this picture in my head, like say you had to work late or you went out with some friends and he didn’t go, when you get home, you find him in bed, duvet up to his chin and just waiting for you to get home so you can tell him everything and you can go to sleep together

- He’s not a huge movie buff, but he’ll watch whatever you want because he just loves seeing you enjoy things, seeing you happy. Even if he’s not the direct cause of it, he likes to just be there for you

- And another thing, I think he’s probably really forgetful. So if you aren’t, I like the idea of leaving little sticky notes around to remind him of things like meetings, or even just to drink water

- So supportive too. He is your biggest cheerleader in everything you do, and always knows how to comfort you if you’re down

- I imagine you also being super supportive of him, like you’re always the first person he shows a new song to, and he genuinely favours your opinion on things and will fight Tantu to change things you think could be changed

- Big flower vibes. He loves buying you flowers, even when there’s no special occasion. Just because he thought they were pretty.

- I also think he would LOVE to do like coordinating outfits and stuff

- Just a stylish couple in general

- And if like your collar isn’t sitting right or something, he’d fixed it straight away

- On a similar note, he loves when your shoelaces become untied because it's his favourite thing to just do whatever he can for you

- He’s tried to cook you dinner a total of about 3 times, all of them resulting in an inedible meal. But it’s the thought that counts

- And when you’re out eating dinner somewhere, he’ll always beg for a bite of your food in exchange for a bite of his, because “your’s just looks so good, liefde”

- I also think he’s one of those boyfriends that’ll just walk up to you and start shadow boxing at you for funsies, complete with fake huffs of effort, until it eventually just evolves into who can hold each others’ arms down for the longest time (spoiler, he wins most of the time cause he just wraps his arms around your shoulders so you can’t move)

- Going back to the travelling thing, I like the idea that if you’re not able to go with him, he always buys you some kind of souvenir like a fridge magnet or like socks or something so you feel like you were there

- And so he feels like you’re with him, he always carries a picture of you with him in his wallet bc cute

NSFW HEADCANONS

- Guess what kind of picture it is teeheehee

- I can’t decide between just a picture of your tits or one that he took while yall were fucking and you didn’t even notice that he had his phone out and was taking a photo of your face all scrunched together in pleasure

- Boy would that have been an interesting day at wherever he got it printed

- ALSO travelling means….you guessed it! Phone and FaceTime sex!!

- Most of the time it doesn’t even start out sexy, you’re just telling each other about your days

- But Joost misses you so much, he can’t help get turned on even by just the sound of your voice

- He tries to be quiet but let’s get real, that man WHINES and WHIMPERS so even when he’s trying to hold it in as he’s palming himself through his jeans, you know what’s up

- “Baby?” He hums in response. “Are you touching yourself?” “...Maybe”

- And it just devolves from there

- Omg and REUNION SEX? Don’t even get me started

- ok do get me started, the SECOND he’s home it is shoes off, clothes off, carrying you to the bedroom

- It would be a perfect mix of tender and filthy

- He missed you and wants to tell you that, but he’s also just so pent up. He needs to get all his energy out

- When he gets horny, there’s nothing he won’t do get at you

- Like when he can’t sleep at night and he’s just really bored, wakes you up and eats you out

- Walks in on you in the shower, he’s getting in

- You guys go shopping and he’s watching you try on clothes, you have to tear him off of you

- You get my point.

- I think he’s an everywhere kind of guy

- Everything, Everywhere, All At Once lol

- Definitely pulled you into a club bathroom stall on more than one occasion

- Oh and one more thing, underwear goblin. After any time you guys fuck, there’s at least a 60% chance he’ll steal your panties as a memento.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost #joost fanfic #joost klein smut

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening

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lostsoulofdragon · 1 month ago

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some small headcanons I got for the forest god au by @llamagoddessofficial

Please note that all the things stated down there are NOT canon, but headcanons I made up as I aggressively scourged down every bit of information I found about this au, thank you very much :)

also I’ll be heavily focusing on my favorite boy Skull (I’ll just call him Horror for now because I can handle it better) here, because why not, I love him

Sans is not opposed of letting humans do their thing. If they wander his territory, they wander his territory. He’s even turned humans fae if they showed devotion to him. Some have started a cult about him, and he finds it amusing enough to let it continue. And hey, they even protect his forest FOR HIM, so all he really has to do is care for the fae and animals, not if trees get cut down or rivers get dammed. He can just sit back and relax, and have the enjoyment of humans running around for him. He doesn’t consider it to be selfish- heck, he never showed himself to them, he didn’t start the cult. That’s on them.

He viewed the cult as… family, to some degree. After all, he turned some into his kind. After the forest of a fellow deity was lost t the humans and then the deities wrath, he watched the cult fall apart. They left his forest, leaving him to feel abandoned by them. He TRUSTED them. He never showed himself to the most of them, but he still LIKED them. They were like the most of family he ever had. And now they were gone.

Red likes humans. We all know that. But over the centuries, as they evolved, he watched them closely. So closely, that when you are fortunate enough to enter his core domain, you are faced with ancient human machines. Old pictures of random people in surprisingly good health for being tucked away in a tree in the middle of a forest. If you want to get an item of yours back after loosing it in the forest, you must trade it with him (dipping into the fae aspect here, hehe). He allows humans to stay in his domain, at least at its edges. But those that live there whisper about how many things go missing regularly. That bird that grasped your hunting knife as you left it unsupervised? Sent by the local deity. The fox pulling a bag of different tools? Reds personal thief. The deer eyeing the self made pouch of multiple layers- you get the idea.

Horror wasn’t always a hulking multilegged creature that resembles beasts. Before his rage took over, he was a humanoid deity, like the others. He allowed humans to wander through his territory and hunt and forage to a certain extent, and those that exhausted their stay just wouldn’t find any more. No more berries on the sides of the path, no more deer trails to follow. Similar to Red, he finds humans intriguing, but in a slightly different way. While Red wants to know all about the human race, Horror is content with letting them into his forest without having them fear for their safety. He allows them to hunt and forage, but no one dares to set up a permanent home there. A camp for the night, sure, but anything that indicates a longer stay than a full moon cycle will be left without food or other resources soon enough, alongside great rain and extreme temperatures that only worsen the longer the human stay.

Anyone who dares exhaust their stay even AFTER he told his animals to evade the human, made the plants temporarily close their flowers when the human was around… they learn to never upset a god the hard way. Every step they take makes water seep into their boots that never dry again. Every plant they decide to pick, it either wilts before they can consume it, or it makes them sick. The animals they slaughter put up a vicious fight. Arrows don’t harm the animals anymore. The meat turns bad in a heartbeat, or it infects the hunter with diseases or parasites. Horror allows humans to redeem themselves if they move out when he tells them, but if you decide to exhaust his hospitality even after his warning signs? You have been cast out for your life.

Horror liked his fae-underlings. He allowed them to toy with humans, but only to a certain degree. He refrained from turning humans to fae, because they could get the wrong idea. But there are stories about a certain human who was granted a special connection to his forest, and his forest alone.

#utmv #Forestgod au #lol headcanons #Enjoy #my critters :)

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syoddeye · 3 months ago

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pricegaz x reader bit. ~900 words. cw: alcohol, chloroform, abduction, insecure reader

the man who bought your drink is out of your league.

soft and warm brown eyes. an easy smile. fit, but not imposing. he fills out his shirt nicely, firm muscle flexing and draping over the two-top you’ve been hiding at all night. he slides the glass next to your empty, introduces himself as kyle, then echoes your name with a grin. you’re afraid to take your eyes off him, scared he’ll disappear and you’ll wake up from a dream. you can’t remember the last time a man approached you like this, so you savor the attention. bask in his spotlight.

it escalates over a couple of rounds. it starts with an innocent comment about your hair and evolves into him pushing up your sleeve to admire your tattoo. his hand falls and rests on your knee, sliding up to squeeze your thigh. he cajoles you into trying to close your thumb and forefinger around his wrist, and when you inevitably can’t, the sound of his laugh makes an express trip south.

eventually, the three ciders catch up, and you excuse yourself. in line for the toilet, you allow yourself a little private smile. it’s happening. finally happening. you’ll ask kyle back to yours when you get back to the table, and break your dry spell.

your plan goes out the window when you return to find another couple at your table, and kyle’s nowhere in sight. you ask the strangers about him anyway, throat drying as they supply the answer you already knew in your gut: him? he said he was leaving.

a stupid shred of hope makes you linger at the bar anyway. each minute that passes drags you further down. your excitement fizzles into dejection. knowing your luck, his friends probably sent him over on a dare. go talk to the wallflower. the loser drinking alone.

you cut your losses and slip out to head home, fishing a cigarette from your bag. a smoke to take the edge off. you rummage for your lighter, cursing at the damn thing. at kyle. at yourself. you get so wrapped up in anger that when you glance up to gauge how far you’ve walked, you do a double take at the man who materializes in the mouth of an alleyway ahead.

his features clarify with every step. he’s got this grizzled sea captain thing going on. broad shoulders in a denim coat with an upturned collar, a beanie tucked over the tips of his ears, and a thick beard. the light of an ember casts a flickering glow across his face, giving him a glow. he leans against the brick with his hands shoved in his pockets. his lips quirk into a smile when he catches you looking.

“need a light?” he asks, gesturing at the cigarette between your fingers.

“yeah, thank you.”

cautious but polite, you glance into the stretch of darkness at his back, relaxing when you see nothing but the streetlamp at the other end. you edge closer, finding yourself drawn by his growing smile. you briefly wonder if this is your shot at redemption. maybe this time, you’ll do the flirting. kyle who? you inwardly laugh. this man’s a bit older, but perhaps that’s what you need. a man.

“sorry, i just had it…” he chuckles, cigar clenched in his mouth as he digs around his pockets.

“it's alright.”

you giggle, bat your eyelashes, and nonchalantly wet your lips.

his eyes follow the motion, then flick behind you. “like i showed you, now.”

your eyebrows pinch and raise, the very picture of confusion, but the obvious question doesn’t make it past formulation.

a mass of fabric appears from around your head, pressing and smothering your nose and mouth. a second source of pressure forces your face into it, cotton catching on your teeth and something sweet leaching onto your tongue. you reach up to yank it away and claw at a hand, but two burly arms wrap around your middle, and together, the men bully you into the alley.

they whisper as they drag you, fight flagging with every inch surrendered.

“solid work, gaz. ah, she's much prettier up close.”

“learned from the best, sir.”

a heavy, unnatural calm rolls over you. your limbs leaden, then collapse all at once as if their bones and muscles liquefy. they keep you from falling with one of them cradling your head. lips press to your temple to hush your pathetic, fading whimpers. they murmur praises as you fall limp.

when you come to, it’s in the back of a windowless van. you notice the gag first, but the ropes hooking you to the van’s wall is an immediate second. head throbbing, your stomach churning from whatever you inhaled, and the bleak swell of dread. it pitches into panic, gripping your heart and squeezing. despite the gag, a scream bubbles up, and—a pair of voices interrupt.

your teary gaze pans to the front of the vehicle. the man in the beanie sits in the driver’s seat and in the passenger seat...kyle. your chest heaves with shallow breaths, eyes widening to saucers.

“you were right, sir. that wrist move’s lethal.”

“gets them every time. riles them up and you get a feel for how they’ll fight back. works best with the desperate and the lonely.”

“yeah? which one do you reckon she is? desperate or lonely?” kyle chuckles. even now, your thighs press together at the sound.

the older man’s eyes find yours in the mirror. “well, dove? which are you?”

#pricegaz x reader #pricegaz x f!reader #stuck on my pricegaz x reader oneshot so here's something to help get me through it

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actuallysaiyan · 10 months ago

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I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part I)

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, office relationship, mommy and daddy relationship

word count: 1.1k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader

summary: as you're lost in thought about your life as a sorcerer and teacher at Jujutsu High, your work husband comes by to surprise you with lunch. and he suggests going to that little pub you enjoy for dinner...only to have Itadori-kun ask such a shameless question

a/n: This is very much inspired by the thirst and fic that @carnal-lnstinct sent in and wrote! I didn't think this would be a multiple part fic, but here we are! I hope to update this little story regularly.

Part two!

Your mind is clouded as you sit at your desk, paperwork forgotten in front of you. Despite the fact that you’ve settled in well at Jujutsu High, you were wondering where this position may lead you. You were wondering if things would evolve into something more than this. Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was tough enough as it is, but someone was always there to make you feel more at ease.

It started small too, just him being kind to you behind those stoic glances and authoritative words. You were beginning to tear down those walls and see the true Kento underneath it all. And all this because you had proclaimed he was your work husband. It wasn’t something he truly loved to hear at first, but as you continued to treat him kindly, Kento was beginning to love the special treatment.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your office door and you look up to see the man in question. He’s got a paper bag full of food for lunch and there is a tiny grin on his face as he sees you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s playing into this role more than you ever expected him to. You beckon him closer and he sits down on the chair that faces yours. The bag is placed on your desk and your stomach growls the moment you can smell the many scents of spices.

“I got your favorite, honey.” Nanami loves calling you pet names, but it’s always with that teasing tone.

“Awh I should have known my sweetheart would know just what to perk me up.”

He pulls out the boxes of take-out and hands you a set of disposable chopsticks. Your heart is full of love for a man who you know isn’t actually your husband. But damn, you can’t help but really be in love with him most days. You’d do just about anything for him to slide a beautiful diamond ring on your finger.

The both of you eat comfortably, Nanami inquiring about your day just as a good husband should. You ask about his day, smiling when he mentions Itadori-kun. The first years were so special this year. You knew that Gojo had asked Nanami specifically to take care of the young pink-haired teen, but when you saw just how much Nanami took the young man under his wing, you could tell that there was a strong bond forming there.

“So our little boy is doing well,” you tease the blond man in front of you.

Nanami blushes slightly but keeps his composure, “Itadori-kun shows promise. Despite the brash way he charges into battle, he is a kindhearted young man.”

Just those words paint such a beautiful picture. You can’t help but fantasize about family movie nights with Itadori coming over and snuggling between you and your husband. You coo softly at the way Nanami is describing the young sorcerer.

You finish up your meal, thanking the blond sorcerer in front of you. Nanami smiles, and this one is a genuine smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear you thanking him for dinner as well. He was planning on asking you out, strictly as co-workers of course. He doesn’t want you finding out about the feelings that are building so deeply inside of him. If it were up to him, he would have married you quite some time ago.

“I’ve got this paperwork to finish up, then I’m training Kugisaki-san.” You explain to Nanami, and you watch as he wipes his hands on the wet wipe provided by the take-out place.

“I’ve got to get back to training as well with Itadori-kun.”

There’s a silence that falls between you both. Your heart is racing in this moment. You just want to jump over this desk and pin him to the ground. You want to press kisses all over his beautifully chiseled face until there’s red lipstick prints everywhere. But you do no such thing. The two of you exchange a smile and a glance, and it’s almost the kind that suggests you’re both part of an inside joke that the whole world is excluded from.

“How about after work we head to our favorite pub for dinner?” Nanami suggests, praying his tone isn’t too hopeful.

You smile, “That sounds nice. It would be good to get out. It’s been a little bit since we’ve been out.”

He nods, “Yes, I was just thinking that.”

The two of you get up, and Nanami throws the trash from your lunch into the garbage can that’s next to your desk. As you come around the desk, he wishes he could just take your hand in his and walk you outside to the training ground. Instead you both walk side by side and chat lightly about work.

It’s a mundane feeling for the both of you, but it isn’t boring. It’s sweet and domestic, and everyone knows that you two are pretty much attached at the hip. But yet there always seems to be something keeping you held back from actually making this work relationship into a real one.

You spot Itadori and Kugisaki awaiting the two of you, the pair seem to be gossiping. You always loved the way those two had grown so close, and yet…you wondered if maybe they had something similar going on that mirrored your own relationship with Nanami. You looked at Kento, smirking playfully.

“You sure you won’t be too tired to take your poor wife out to dinner tonight?” You practically purr in his ear.

Nanami shudders, “Please, have a bit more faith in your sweetheart, dear.”

Just the sound of his voice calling you dear has you wondering if you should just confess right here and right now. You want to tell him how badly you have fallen head over heels for him, but you also wonder if that’s just not the right choice. You look at him once more, and you lean in the smooth the collar of his shirt and the lapels of his jacket. His heart skips a beat when you’re this close to him.

“Well, I suppose I have faith in an old man like you.” You rib him, laughing at his reaction.

“You’re three months older than me.” He says, a smirk spreading on his face.

You groan, “Please, don’t remind me.”

You two begin walking over to the first years you’re responsible for. With a final promise to go out for dinner, you part ways. It’s only then you hear Itadori asking your work husband.

“Nanamin, are you sure you and her aren’t actually married?”

#bacon.writes #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #Nanami Kento x you #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento x y/n #nanami x y/n #work husband!nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #Nanami Kento fluff #Nanami Kento imagines #Kento Nanami x reader #Kento Nanami x you #Kento Nanami x y/n

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nhlclover · 14 days ago

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DRESS JURAJ SLAFKOVSKY

pairing: juraj slafkovsky x fem!reader

summary: caught up in a secret romance with juraj, you find yourself toeing the line between desire and discretion.

warnings: owners daughter x juraj slafkovsky, heated makeout, sort of nsfw? but not really

wc: 2.07k

notes: loosely based on 'dress' & 'i can see you' by taylor swfit. first piece for my mannnnnz. also if you're curious about what dress i'm picturing, it's this dress!

Juraj Slafkovsky was bound to get you in trouble one day.

You knew it was inevitable. From the moment your dad tasked you with handing him his jersey when he was drafted, your fingertips brushing against each other, you knew that he was going to turn your world upside down.

And that he did. Your crush on Juraj burned intensely.

It started off innocently, as these things do — fleeting glances during short conversations after games, quick smiles when you would run into one another at the Bell Centre. It didn’t take long for those small, little interactions to evolve into something more. At first, you convinced yourself it was harmless. You were just being polite, maybe a bit friendly, but certainly nothing more. You didn’t want to get caught up in something you couldn’t handle, especially with him — someone so high-profile, someone who had the potential to disrupt the balance in your life completely.

But Juraj had a magnetic pull, an easy charm that made it impossible to stay away from him. There was something about him that made you feel noticed like you weren’t just another face in the crowd, but someone he genuinely enjoyed being around. You would catch yourself overanalyzing every single moment: Did he look at you a little too long? Did he stand just a little too close? It felt silly, but you couldn’t help it.

It didn’t take long before you both began to seek each other out in the arena after games, slipping into hidden corners or meeting up in quiet hallways, even just to have a short conversation and be in each other's presence. Those encounters felt charged, buzzing with an unspoken tension. Each time, you found yourself pushing boundaries, flirting just a little more boldly, and testing the waters to see how much you could get away with. And then, one night after a big win, it happened.

He caught you, standing next to your dad, watching Martin St. Louis's post-game speech in the locker room. Your eyes were not on the head coach, delivering an impassioned speech about the win they’d just achieved, but rather they were on the Slovak still sitting in his gear, sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead. Juraj alike was not listening to his coach, but instead staring at you, like you were the only person in the room. At that moment, something shifted. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the victory or the way your gazes were making you feel like the only people in the room. Either way, it felt like neither of you could wait a second longer.

As soon as possible, after media was done and Juraj was back in his gameday suit, you were pulled into a side closet. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was inevitable.

After that, there was no turning back. You fell into a rhythm that felt comfortable but thrilling, a secret only the two of you shared. You didn’t talk much about what it meant, and neither of you tried to define it. You didn’t need to; you were both content with the way things were. Stolen moments when you could finally be alone, sneaking out of the house to Juraj’s apartment, and even sneaking Juraj in one night in a dangerous attempt at just being together.

There was a softness in how he treated you that was at odds with his towering presence on the ice. He would brush a stray hair from your face, or wrap you in his arms with a gentleness that made you feel safe, cherished even. But the reality of your situation always lingered in the back of your mind. You knew you couldn’t stay in this secret forever; he was bound to attract attention sooner or later, and you couldn’t risk your dad finding out. Not yet, at least.

Tonight, though, was different. The grand, polished event left no room for any sort of private rendezvous. You were expected to play your part, mingling with sponsors and season ticket holders, smiling by your father’s side. But from the moment you arrived, you could feel Juraj’s gaze on you, the intensity of his stare almost enough to melt the composure you fought so hard to maintain. You didn’t dare look at him directly — not with your dad beside you, not with so many eyes around.

Juraj couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the deep purple dress that had a deep neckline, as well as a long slit up your left leg, exposing your thigh that Juraj kept imagining placing kisses along the inside of.

He didn’t know how he’d managed to keep his composure so far, how he could even focus on the mind-numbing conversations he was being pulled into by donors and sponsors when all he wanted was to close the distance between you. The way the dress hugged your curves, the delicate fabric resting against your skin, it was as if every detail had been designed specifically to drive him insane.

Juraj’s jaw tightened as he watched you laugh at something your dad said, the sound carrying to him where he stood only a few feet away, the closest he’d been all evening. He clenched his fists, trying to shake off the impatience gnawing at him. Finally, an idea sparked. He’d seen a stack of napkins on the refreshment table, and the thought struck him. He casually picked one up, borrowed a pen from the waiter passing by, and, hiding it in his palm, scribbled a note on the napkin. He took his chance when your father’s attention was elsewhere, moving to your side just long enough to slip the napkin into your hand.

Feeling the subtle brush against your fingers as he pressed something small and folded into your hand, you didn’t dare look, let alone react to his presence. As soon as he’d drifted by and back into the crowd, you turned and glanced into your hand: a napkin with a hastily scrawled message in his looping handwriting.

“Meet me in 10 in the locker room.”

A flutter of excitement rose up in your chest as you tucked the note away in your purse. It felt like an eternity waiting for the minutes to pass, pretending to be engaged in polite conversation while your mind raced, anticipation building with each second. Finally, you excused yourself, slipping away towards the benches and down the tunnel where you knew the locker room was. As you neared the entrance, the silence made your heart beat even faster. You entered slowly, the room dimly lit and empty.

You stepped in, glancing around. “Juraj?” you called out softly. The room remained silent as you ventured in further, the clicking of your heels muffled by the carpeting.

You wandered deeper into the locker room, glancing around at the space usually bustling with activity but now eerily quiet. The benches were pristine, the air filled with the faint scent of musky hockey gear that no amount of heavy-duty cleaning products could mask. The neatly arranged stalls bore the player's name above them, their personal items tucked into place with a casual order.

You stopped in front of Juraj’s stall, looking at all the items that filled it. Setting your purse down on the bench, you ran your fingers along the edge of his stall. Your gaze fell to a compartment below where his skates were kept. You nudged the compartment open and peered inside. A folded towel, some extra tape, and a single, stray hockey puck lay there.

“Looking for something?”

You jumped, dropping the lid to the compartment which slammed down. You whipped around, spotting Juraj leaning on the frame of the doorway with a smirk on his face. His suit was perfectly tailored, and his hair just the way you liked it — soft and slightly unruly. You couldn’t hide your smile as you took him in, your cheeks warming.

“You look incredible tonight,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his gaze trailing down the length of you before meeting your eyes. “Not as good as you,” he murmured, his eyes smoldering. His eyes trail your figure, and you can tell his mind is thinking a million thoughts that you are begging to hear. You need to hear all the things he’s thinking about saying and doing to you.

“What are you thinking right now?” you asked, unable to keep yourself from smiling despite your teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

“What am I thinking?” Juraj asked, you nodding. “C’mon y/n… don’t make me spell it out for you. You know I want you.”

You swallowed but kept your gaze steady. “Then come over here and do something about it.”

He didn’t hesitate. In one smooth movement, he closed the space between you, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you close, hands roaming down the curve of your waist. Every touch, every brush of his lips felt like a release of all the pent-up tension from the evening. His kisses grew deeper, hungrier, and you melted into him, feeling his warmth seeping into you.

As he pulled back slightly to catch his breath, his eyes moved over you appreciatively. “God, this dress,” he murmured, almost in awe, his hands tracing the outline of your waist.

You smirked. “You like it?”

He opened his mouth as if to speak but only managed a quiet exhale, seemingly lost for words.

“Well,” you continued, a teasing glint in your eye, “I hope you’re not too attached because I bought it just to watch you take it off me.”

A playful grin tugged at his lips. “That’s great,” he said, voice a little husky, “because I don’t like it, anyway.” His lips found yours again, his hands roaming down to the small of your back, where his fingers brushed against the zipper. You felt a thrill rush through you as he gently began to slide it down before you remembered where you were and let out a small laugh, stopping him.

“We can’t, Juraj,” you whispered, giving him a gentle push. “Not here. It would be basically sacrilegious if we had sex here.”

He groaned, dipping his head to press a trail of kisses along your neck. “It’s fine,” he murmured between kisses, “as long as we don’t do it on the logo.”

You let out a laugh, Juraj feeling the vibration against his lips as he worked his way down to your clavicle. You exhaled, fighting to keep your thoughts straight as his lips moved against your skin. “We really shouldn’t, Juraj,” you managed, your voice more breathless than you intended. “If we’re gone too long, my dad’s going to notice I’m missing.”

Juraj paused, his eyes glinting with a mischievous smile. “We can be quick,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a light kiss to the lobe.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Juraj, c’mon, the last thing we need is being caught having sex in the locker room. You’d never hear the end of it if we got caught.”

Juraj sighed, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his hands rubbing slow, warm circles on your hips. “Fine, fine,” he murmured, his tone playful but with an edge of disappointment. He reached back around and pulled the zipper back up as if nothing had ever been out of place. “But you’re making this incredibly hard, you know?”

You grinned, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before slipping out of his grasp. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched you, a flicker of frustration mingling with amusement in his expression. “We’re finishing what we started later.”

“Only if you behave,” you teased, walking backward toward the door, your eyes never leaving his. “Now go on, try to look like you’re not dying inside when you rejoin everyone.”

“Easier said than done,” he muttered, adjusting his tie, still watching you with a longing that made your heart skip. “But alright, I’ll try.”

As you walked back down the hallway, you caught his gaze one last time, and it was filled with a promise. Whatever had started between you was far from over. And tonight had only deepened the thrill of it all.

#juraj slafkovsky #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #montreal canadiens #js20 #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works

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