#also the button up + strap(s) across the chest.

[boobookiss]

Are you guys seeing my visions

[allbark-no-bite]

Maniac || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: she’s dancing in the kitchen while Rafe’s falling in love

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ smut

author’s note: inspired loosely by Macklemore’s ‘Maniac’

He's laughing now, low and attractive, his pearly teeth on display. His crossed arms bounce against his chest as it rumbles. From the radio sat on the counter, music bounces through the expanse of the kitchen.

"I am not dancing with you."

"C'mon! Get over yourself, Cameron!"

Warm, lemon yellow light slowly creeps across the white kitchen walls, and it makes her hair flash a rich golden color as she twirls through the sunbeams.

Rafe remembers exactly when he fell in love with her because it was a moment similar to this one. She's half dressed, dancing in the kitchen in her tube socks. Her hair is a mess, falling out of the already sloppy bun it's been thrown in, and he's not even sure she's wearing anything under the billowy mass of his shirt. The buttons are misaligned and he's half hoping it will fall further down her shoulder just so he can prove his theory.

God, does she get on his nerves. "Of you? Or looking like an idiot?" Rafe braces himself against the countertop, his lean body relaxed.

Right now he's just content to watch her, socked feet sliding against the white kitchen tile as she does what he has to admit is a fairly decent impression of the moonwalk. Thankfully he doesn't speak too soon because she stumbles over her own feet at the end, catching herself just before she hits the floor.

Rafe just shakes his head, blue eyes shining with a light that only she can put in them. "You're a maniac." His heart hurts. He wishes this wasn't so complicated.

Rafe met (y/n) through Topper, his best friend since grade school. Consequently, Topper was also (y/n)'s older brother. Now, he wants to make this point clear, he never set out to fuck his best friend's kid sister. Shit just happens. He had always liked her, of course, but everyone did. She didn't rat out anything they did at parties, and she was always down to hang out and do... other things. His favorite of those things being the time they had sex in the backseat of Topper's jeep. They'd emerged an hour later, faces hot and clothes rumpled, and returned back to the party as if nothing happened.

Rafe is sure Topper knows he's doing less than decent things with his little sister — they did leave his car reeking of sex for the whole next week — but for the most part, they keep whatever is between them under wraps. She says it's because she doesn't want to hurt her brother if things go south. Rafe knows it's because she's seventeen and doesn't want to commit to anything she doesn't have to.

"We aren't dating, Rafe. You know that."

He's just proposed that they go with Kelce and his girlfriend to the golf club tomorrow.

"Bullshit," he laughs, grinning from ear to ear. She was bad for him, her and her flighty indecisiveness, but so were a lot of other things he did. Rafe figured there were worse things that could kill him.

"You'll get over me eventually. I promise."

He's really grinning now because he knows she's all talk. "Sure," he relents, playing along for the sake of the conversation. "And when I don't?"

She's rolling her eyes now but still smiling as he takes her hand and twirls her around, her toes twirling delicately across the kitchen floor. "You're just like my brother. You'll find another Sarah Cameron and move on with your life."

He actually scoffs at that. "I'd rather not think about the things your brother does to my sister."

"I'm sure Top feels the same way," she refutes, sidling closer to Rafe until they're nearly pressed chest to chest. The collar of the shirt has slidden off her shoulder, well below her collarbone, and still there's no bra strap in sight. He swallows, a hand sliding up the back of her bare thigh to cup the curve of her backside and pull her closer to him.

She must notice his tentativeness because she offers him a cheeky look, cupping her hand over his own. "No need to be shy. If you're going to touch me then get going with it."

Rafe's blue eyes flit to hers, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a shy smile, as if he's been caught contemplating and she read his mind. His other hand glides up her shirt, reveling at the warmth of her skin before sliding home. The bud of her breast pebbles under the swipe of his thumb and she shivers.

"What's wrong with being shy?" he mumbles, his head ducking to mouth at the cavern of her collarbone. Her body is warm and impossibly alive in his hands. There are often times like this one that he cannot fathom the fact that like him, she is a living, breathing person. He can feel her heart thumping under the weight of his palm, almost unbearably alive.

The tent in his pants must betray him because she laughs. "Rafe Cameron, you have never been shy a day in your life." Her hips grind up into his and he muffles a groan into her skin. He would say she knows him too well but really there's no hiding what's happening in his pants.

His fingers tug down at her shirt as he cranes his neck lower to mouth at the tender swell of her breast. A pleased sound escapes her. Before she can grip him through his shorts, he swiftly grabs her wrist, placing it instead on his waist. "Later," he huffs. His dick can wait.

When her hand again slips past the waistband of his boxer, his teeth catch her skin, reprimanding her. "Later, dammit," Rafe scolds, but there's no bite to his voice. He's smiling again as he kisses the welp better. His hands are on her waist, thumbs digging in below her hipbones to pull her body into his. Her fingers are in his hair, tickling his scalp and making him sigh into her skin. Rafe smoothes his tongue over the hickey forming on the top of her breast, making sure to attend to the other side as well.

With her hands still in his hair, Rafe drops to his knees on the kitchen tile. He is very, very pleased to find that she is not wearing panties. Narrowing his blue eyes, he shoots her a knowing glare. "You're nothing but trouble, kid."

Her hands tangled in his hair push his head back down. "You sound like you're trying to catch a case calling me that."

Rafe laughs at her impatience. At first he had been painfully aware of their three year age gap. She was Topper's litter sister for god's sake — practically a baby when he was a senior in high school. That number has faded over the years but it doesn't mean he doesn't like to tease her.

Grinning, his nose drags along the tan of her bikini line. She smells like sun tan oil and something he can't quite place. He would like to linger a while longer to figure it out but he's afraid she'll get too impatient with him.

Palms griping the backs of her thighs, he licks through her folds. The contact makes her body jump, but her fingers tighten as much as they can in his cropped hair, forcing his face closer. He just knows his jaw is going to ache tomorrow. Is it actually good head if it doesn't? He doesn't think so.

Rafe drags his tongue up to her clit before sucking at it. She squeaks at this, legs quivering beside his head. Just when he thinks she's going to lose her balance, she thankfully grabs on to the counter behind her before they both topple to the floor.

"Holy..." she begins, but doesn't even finish her sentence.

Grunting, Rafe has to force his wide shoulders in between her knees to keep them open as he laps at her. His tongue dips further into her, causing his nose to nudge her clit each time his mouth explores her further.

Eventually he becomes more insistent with his actions, lapping at her clit until she's whimpering, sensitive to the point that he doesn't know if she's more keen on shoving his head towards her or pushing it away. She comes with a cry, squirming in his hands as his tongue finishes the job properly.

"Oh god, I love you. Please. Fuck, you're— Right there."

Rafe pulls away just a fraction to breathe. "What'd you say?"

He's sure she can still feel his hot breath against her weeping cunt. There's arousal leaking down her thighs and he can feel it dripping down from his chin to his neck.

Panting, her cheeks are flushed as she looks down at him, but he has a feeling it's not from him. "What?" she stammers. "Nothing."

He grins cheshire-like up at her. His hands rub the backs of her thighs soothingly before squeezing her calfs. "You said the "L" word," he accuses.

Her eyes widen in realization. "No. No, I didn't," she protests.

Rafe rises to his feet, hands trailing up her body as his smile grows wider. She's trapped between his body and the counter and has no choice but to try and dodge him as he tries to catch her eyes. "What was it?" He taunts, laughing. "Say it again, baby?"

She tries to cover her face with her hands but with Rafe's overpowering strength, the attempt is useless. Even hiding halfway behind her arms, he can tell she's smiling. "I didn't! I didn't say anything!"

"C'mon! Baby. Baby, look at me." Rafe pulls her her rigid arms away from her face and holds them out to either side of her head. "Hey, I said look at me."

Leveling his gaze with her, they lock eyes for a moment, neither saying anything. Although her expression is fairly calm, if not a little pensive, he can tell she’s searching his face for a reaction. Timidly, he presses his lips to hers, stealing a chaste kiss before pulling away again.

“I love you too.”

[reelovesfictionalmen]

An Eternity Together Vampire!John Price x f!reader

My first dance with kink/spooktober. Smut will be under the cut! Also reader is in her mid 30's. Sorry kiddos.

Cream-Pie and Vampire

You had known John was a vampire from his files in the military, you were just a human who took care of the Armory and requisitions. You met with him regularly supplying his gear. Eventually he had asked you out and now 12 years later the two of you were stronger than ever. The problem with dating a vampire as a human is that you age and your partner does not. As you entered your mid 30's, this was something the two of you discussed at length and had decided that you marry each other. On your wedding night he would turn you during the throes of passion of your first time making love as husband and wife.

So here the two of you were in your wedding finery retiring to the hotel for your wedding night. You both were nervous, John more so, but he was good at hiding it. He knew turning you would not fail but at the same time there was a slight nagging thought in the back of his head that worried it would fail and he would lose you forever, long before he would have if you died of old age.

Once you both entered your room the two of you stood there awkwardly for a few moments, it was very unlike the two of you. You steeled yourself, stepping close to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling his chest. His arms quickly came around you and held you tight to him, planting a kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly and grinning wildly down at you, the points of his fangs showing "Hello Mrs Price" he purred. You leaned up and kissed him softly "Hello Husband" you murmured against his lips.

The soft kisses soon turned heated, needy and desperate. You ran your hands up his chest and pushed at his suit jacket to signal you wanted him to take it off. He pulled away from you slightly flinging off his suit jacket, taking off his tie and pulling his dress shirt open and off with the buttons flying across the room. John fixed you with another toothy grin "Lets get you out of that dress, my love" gently turning you around, pulling the zipper down and then pushing the straps off your shoulders causing your dress to fall to the ground. Turning you to face him again he put his hands on your waist, stroking your sides before pressing kisses all over your face "I cant wait to spend the rest of eternity with you, Sweetheart. I never knew love before you and imagining myself spending my immortal life without you now seems worse than all the torture in the world" You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, running your tongue against his lips seeking entry, once granted you ran your tongue across his fangs and grinned "Well we had better get working on that, hmm?" With speed you unhooked your pretty lace bra, kicked off your heels and rid yourself of your panties before running to the bed, jumping on it, rolling on your back and sitting up smiling at him and his surprised face. "Come make me yours forever, John. Make love to me as your wife and make me like you" you beckoned with a hand stretched out to him. John let out a predatory growl that was far from human, toeing off his fancy shoes and essentially tearing his pants and tighty whities off his body.

He stalked towards you like a predator before standing in front of you and stroking your face "Lay back for me, My Love. I need you to cum on my face and stretch you open before we start. I don't want to rush this, we have all night" Laying back on the bed with your legs handing off the edge, you gingerly opened your legs for him, showing your already damp center of curls to him. You had wanted to shave bare down there but John for some reason liked when you had a bush. John kneeled at the edge of the bed, hooking arms around your hips and pulled you into his face. John took a deep breath against your center and groaned at your sweet scent. His heightened vampire senses thrummed at the heady scent, he dove in, licking a stripe between your lips and pressing his tongue and face in deeper to lap at your entrance where your wetness was oozing from. You moaned softly and relaxed bonelessly against the bed with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of your beloved feasting on you. Your bonelessness only lasted so long as John moved a hand down from your hip to start circling and flicking your clit in quick motions. Your body jolted and you cried out John's name but he let out a beastly growl, pressing you back down with the hand he had been using on your clit before resuming his fast circling and flicking of your clit. It didn't take you long to cum and John had no intentions of slowing down, he was starved for you. The fact he was now married to you and was about to turn you made him feel a primal surge he had not felt before. He moved his mouth from your entrance to your clit, sucking on it hard, flicking it with his tongue, before he could move his hand down to start fingering you you had already cum again. You were pulling at his hair and begging him to slow down. Looking up at you and your teary eyes he released your clit and murmured an apology and started to finger you slowly. As your body relaxed he added another finger and then another until 3 of his thick fingers were knuckle deep inside you. He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a reserved speed until you came around his fingers. John pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and rising to his feet. His hard cock bobbed in the air as he stood before you. "Move up the bed, Sweetheart" asked as he climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of you, caging you in with his arms and knees on either side of you.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, John had never been so intense with your love making before, he held a glint in his eyes that was befitting to his vampire nature. It should have scared you but it honestly turned you on more than anything. Now you were here under him, his cock leaking precum on your stomach and him staring down at you and licking his lips like you are the finest meal he has ever seen. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pulled him down and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips, both of you groaning into the kiss. "Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want me to turn you? Theres no going back from this" He asked as he brushed strands of hair stuck to your sweat from your forehead. His heart thumped in his chest with nerves. "John, Sweetheart. We've been together 12 years. I cant imagine a future without you, I want to stay by your side for as long as you will have me and more. Please." you stroked his cheeks and kissed him again. To make sure your point was driven home, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you. John grunted as his hips fell into you, then chuckling and kissing you again.

Even though he had stretched you out before hand, when he pressed himself into you it was a stretch as always. Once hilted inside you he started to move, going slowly at first, drawing out completely before pressing back in. The moans he drew from you and his own moans spurred you both into a feverish pace, it wasn't long before you came on his cock and became even wetter around his cock. "'m not going to last much longer, Love. When I put my wrist to your lips, drink deep" He made sure to look you in the eyes and get your confirmation, a moan and a nod. John rolled his hips in a way that caught your g-spot with every thrust he could feel himself nearing his peak and knew you would too. He bit the vein on his wrist, pressing it to your mouth as he pounded into you hard. He felt you drink from him, he bit your neck and drank deeply from you. The sensations causing you both to erupt into an orgasm that felt like your body was aflame. John filled you with more seed than he knew he even had. His balls hurt from being so empty. The vampiric poison in his blood started to work, your body started to seize, you struggled to breathe. He pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of you all over the bed and his thighs as he cradled you in your arms as your human life came to an end. He laid you both down on your sides and held you tightly to him, stroking your hair, pressing kisses all over your face. Your body soon started to grow cold in his arms, your body was changing inside, you were becoming like him. After a few hours, where he kept you in his arms he heard your heart restart again. He whispered praises to you while stroking your body, your arms, your hair, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.

With a gasp you regained consciousness, flailed in panic before being soothed by John. "It.. Did it work?" you asked staring up at him "It worked, My Love. How do you feel?" he offered smiling down at you with his signature smile, his fangs poking past his lips. "I feel.. I can feel, hear, smell.. so much. It's.." you shuddered feeling overwhelmed john stroked your head, pressing his lips to your forehead "mmm I know, Love. I'll teach you to get control of it all. Don't you worry" you reached between your legs and felt around, feeling the mess and the huge load he left inside you "Hey, can we have kids?" you asked "We can, but theres a lot of things that have to be done and the timing has to be right. We can focus on little kidlings in time. We have eternity, remember?" he sighed happily, drawing you back closer into his arms where the two of you remained cuddled up all night while you discussed anything and everything.

It was a wonderful wedding night and the beginning of a long long long life together.

wefjkwfejkwef I've never taken on a writing challenge before. I cant say I'll manage every day nor that they will all be COD characters. But I hope you guys like them. I worked hard on this one.

Tomorrow will be Friday the 13th and Against a Wall. Dunno who with yet lol.

[thepenultimateword]

Star Bright

Rather than in bubble wrap or parchment paper, the package came in cuffs. Great thick ones that barely seemed sound against the burnished, blazing skin of the person in front of them.

“Excuse me,” the human said stopping the delivery driver as they started back down the walk. “What is this?”

The driver checked the address on their clipboard. “You bought a star, right?”

The Human had done that yes. They had done so more than once on Earth as donations for different astronomical causes. They got blurry pictures once, maybe a card with its name and basic info. “Yes, but I wasn't actually expecting anything?" When the driver look at them strangely, they added hurriedly, "It was supposed to be an envelope of dust or a hunk of rock or something. It wasn’t supposed to be…be… What even is this?"

"A star," the driver said dryly, and without another word swung into the driver's seat of his vehicle and revved away.

The human watched him go with rising panic clawing at the walls of their stomach. When they finally looked at the stranger, their Star, they were glaring.

"So, um, I'm [Human]."

The star looked them up and down from bedhead to worn slippers, curling their bronzed lip with a glare before sweeping into the house. As they passed, heat brushed the Human's bare arms.

They rushed after them. "Wait, wait. You can't stay here. I was allowed an immigration trial by the skin of my teeth. Which means approved housing. Which means here. Which means rules. I'm not allowed pets or roommates, and there's a very strict "no overnight guests" rule, which I'm pretty sure...are you even listening?"

The star peered around the one-bedroom apartment as if it were the most curious thing they'd ever seen. The cuffs kept them from separating their wrists, but their fingers remained free enough to pick up the Human's empty coffee mug, turning it over in their fingers, before moving on to the plate of half-eaten breakfast.

They bent in half and sniffed at the fake egg on fake toast. A synthetic earth diet for his unaccustomed--his coworkers would say delicate--stomach.

"Oh. Uh…hungry?"

The Star cocked their head, long hair glittering over their shoulder,

"You know," The Human pointed to their mouth and mimicked chewing. "Hungry? Food?”

The Star made a noise like grinding steel and nails on a chalkboard mixed together. If that steel and chalkboard were also strapped to a whining aerial firework on the verge of explosion.

The Human clapped their hands over their ears with a sharp wince. "Ok, ok! I'll, uh, make you something."

Before they could move, the Star awkwardly picked up their toast in both hands and took a large bite.

"Or I guess you can just have-- Holy cow! What is happening?"

No sooner had the Star swallowed did a gush of molten something rush from their mouth, burning holes in the dingy wood flooring.

The human's hands tangled anxiously in their hair. "Oh, no, no, my deposit--" The Star hurled the toast into the wall as if in betrayal. "No!"

The human marched across the room, snatching the bread crust from the ground and shaking it in the Star's direction. "Don't throw! We do not throw here!"

The Star only glared, never breaking eye contact s they wiped their mouth on their shoulder.

The humans gaze went to their cuffs. “Can those—” they began, taking a step forward, but the star immediately stepped back. “Wait. I just want check something. They inched with raised hands until they were close enough to touch the warm surface of the cuffs. They ran their fingers around the sides until they found a panel, working under the edge with their fingernail to uncover the button underneath. “There we are!”

The Human pushed the button and the cuffs immediately demagnetized. The Star pulled their hands apart, but then manacles still held around opposite wrists.

“That’s strange usually they unlatch too. Let me look a little—”

The Star pressed their palm to their chest, pushing them away lightly with a small head shake.

“No, don’t do it or no, I can’t do it?”

The star merely shook their head a second time folding the manacles under their arms.

"Well... alright. But I still can't keep you here. Apparently, you can't eat food, and I have no idea what you do eat. And...and.. is it normal to just be delivered a person? Because where I come from, that is ethically questionable.

The star was not listening. They were in the midst of testing Human's couch, bouncing up and down on it a couple times before curling up on their side. They watched Human out of the corner of their eye as if expecting them to stop them.

"I, er, suppose you can stay there for now. As long as you don't stay overnight I'm not breaking any rules by having a...friend...over at my place. Er...I'll ask around about this sort of situation...if I figure out what you eat I'll bring some home. ER...sound good?"

The stare flipped over on their other side so that their back faced Human.

Human sighed. "Alright. Sounds good."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin

@ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotesthetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @tauntedoctopuses

[mangoisms]

like the part of the song where it falls ━ miyuki kazuya

━ part six: dogfish / read part five

━ wc: 7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterpost

━ a/n: hi! this is the final part of this fic, thank you all for reading! i hope you enjoy <3

(21:31) Have an obligation with the team on saturday (21:31) fun! what kind? (21:31) Party at one of the guys’ house (21:31) Though it’s more of a gathering than a party which is a relief (21:32) It’s just that the guys have been bothering me to meet you (21:32) LOL (21:32) oh shit wait you’re being serious???????

“Is this really a good idea?”

“What are you so worried about?”

“It’s your team,” you stress, your eyes taking in the sprawling properties of Del Mar Heights. A neighbor to Carmel Valley, houses here are not houses, but mansions instead, perched on sloping ridges that overlook the ocean and the rest of San Diego. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You managed to become friends with me. So, you’ll have no problem with them.”

“Not what I meant… please tell me you aren’t getting a house here.”

You had to go through a gate to get here. A gate. Seriously. Your finances are in a better state now with your pay raise but it wasn’t too long ago you were struggling to buy fresh produce. 

“No way. Too stuffy.”

“Nice views of the ocean, though.”

“You and the water,” he says, shaking his head. Fond. 

You look away, glancing at your reflection in the window. The sun is starting to set. Today’s endeavor isn’t a party but you were instructed to dress a little more formally than usual. Kazuya looks heartachingly gorgeous in a deep blue long-sleeved button-up and jeans. 

You’re in your nicer stuff, too, in a warm ivory satin midi dress with a front tie at the bust and short fluttery sleeves. You traded your Docs for champagne velvet platform ankle-strap heels with bows. 

But just because you’re wearing lighter colors than usual doesn’t mean you’re trading in your standard dark lip look. Today’s lipstick is mulberry, with a glassy finish to it. Your nails are freshly painted a matching shade, dark enough to look black. 

You look… nice, Kazuya had said when he picked you up. 

Your heart had leapfrogged to your chest and you stammered out that he did, too, and barely managed to stop yourself from saying that he always looks nice. Gorgeous, really. Just unbearably gorgeous. So gorgeous, it should be illegal. 

Ugh.

Your sister’s advice from last week is still bouncing around inside your head. 

You don’t think she’s wrong. Not at all. But the days wear on. Your guilt increases. It’s wrong, maybe. Selfish, to just think about yourself. 

Like she said. 

What about him?

You aren’t kidding yourself. This is both the easiest and hardest decision you could ever make. 

All that you could want is sitting to your left, humming along to the radio idly, fingers tapping on the leather of the steering wheel. 

You don’t have time to think about it any longer as you come upon a busy section of the street, tons of cars parked in the driveway of a mansion and on the street. All of them are luxurious sports cars. Kazuya’s Audi is probably the least expensive here. 

He expertly parallel parks between a Maserati and an Aston Martin across the street from the mansion, which is two stories, done in the typical Spanish revival style of California. Low, pitched roofs covered in red tiles, adobe exterior walls, numerous oversized windows, carved entry doors, multiple balconies, and high arches. 

The inside is just as nice. Mosaic tiles, wood beams, arched doorways, and stucco walls. 

It is also busy. Very busy.

“How many people are on this team?” you whisper desperately as the two of you shuffle inside unnoticed (for a short period of time, you’re certain). 

“Gonzales probably invited some of the staff, too. But generally, this is how many we start out with. Spring training decides who ends up on the starting roster. Oh, look. There’s Wendy.”

“Tee, it’s good to see you,” she says, giving you a warm smile. 

“It’s good to see you, too.” More than good. You’re so glad she’s here. You aren’t sure if you can shadow Kazuya all night. Not with the eyes that are noticing you, no doubt dying for a piece of him. You at least have someone to fall back on if he gets pulled away. 

Though, truthfully, some part of you doesn’t want that to happen. Wants to keep him here with you. But you don’t get to do that.

“Kazuya!”

A tall, stocky older man shoulders his way through the people, grinning widely. Wendy moves out of the way. 

You know who this is — Raul Gonzales, the Padres’ star pitcher. Also one of the oldest among them, at thirty-nine. A true veteran of the game. He and Kazuya and a handful of the other pitchers helped take the Padres all the way through the playoffs to the World Series. There’s plenty of talk in the press about their battery, so you aren’t that surprised to hear him calling Kazuya by his first name. 

A heavy hand claps his shoulder. “It’s good to see you. You should answer your phone more often.”

“I’m busy.”

“Ha! I bet you are! With this little lady, I’m sure.”

“You —”

“As friends.” Gonzales holds up his hands, smirking. “Relax, man. Hey,” he turns to you, offering a big hand, smile lines deepening in russet skin, “it’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard a lot.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You have a beautiful home.”

His grin widens. “Thanks. Interior design is an offseason passion. My wife, Sandra, is around here somewhere. She’s in a blue dress. If I’m not around, you can ask her if you need anything.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Yes, very kind, but we’ll be together most of the night,” Kazuya says. “Don’t want to leave her to the sharks.”

“No, I don’t imagine you do. Come on. Most of us are out back.”

“What do you mean, leave me to the sharks?” you whisper as the two of you follow him. Your voices are easily drowned out by the chatter and the Spanish music playing. 

He shoots you a wry look. “Like I said. You’re friends with me. Plus, with everything going on in the press… people areinterested in you, tomcat. But as you can tell… a lot of them think we’re together.”

“Oh.”

He misunderstands the smallness in your voice, shaking his head. “I told Raul to spread it around that we aren’t. But, well. You know how this stuff is.”

“Right. Yeah.”

The backyard is humongous, with a large pool on one end, then a grassy area beside it. The grill is going in the outdoor kitchen, several people manning it, with a large fire pit near it, helping to fight off the January chill. 

It’s a whirlwind of introductions from there. Lots of questions about you and Kazuya (that is, how you ‘deal with him,’ which quickly gets old), lots of questions about your head, whether you really are okay (you are, for the most part; remains to be seen whether you’ll suffer the effects as you get older), and then a few jokes about your relationship, too. Raul, despite his earlier tease, shuts them down. He’s one of the oldest on the team and he’s been on it for the past decade. You can tell his words hold weight. 

“Kind of your worst nightmare as a catcher,” Kazuya whispers to you in a brief moment of reprieve, a steadying hand on your back, trying to ease the tension in you. “To be significantly younger than him, for one, and for him to be seen as something like a captain. A real veteran.”

“But you two did it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.”

You exhale a quiet laugh, shaking your head. 

He surveys the scene in front of you. The sun has set but the lights are on outside, the fire pit keeping you warm, the smoky scent of burning firewood pleasant. There’s food, too. Burgers, hot dogs, steak. He has a bottle of beer in his hand but hasn’t drank one sip of it. You stick with water. 

“You wanna step inside?” he asks, hand sliding to your shoulder blades. “Just take a sec. I can hold these guys off.”

Insane to realize that you are the hot commodity tonight, not him. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be there too long, though. I can be chivalrous for only so long.”

You smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The look in his eyes is warm and so is the feeling in your chest. Heat from the fire whips at you. 

You turn. 

Most of the people have moved outside by now. A few younger kids play in the living room, with the older ones sprawled out on the cushioned sofa on their phones, earbuds in, a few of them dozing; the eighty-inch flat screen TV plays some movie you don’t recognize. 

Little footsteps reach your ears. 

“Excuse me?”

You turn forward, blink as you find air, then lower your eyes, where a little girl, no older than seven, stands. 

You soften quickly. “Yes?”

She lifts a plate with a thin slice of steak on it towards you. “Can you cut this please?”

“Well, sure.” 

You take the plate and she tugs you by hand around the couch, to the low coffee table where a few other plates are sitting. 

You kneel, careful of your dress, and start cutting it into smaller pieces. 

“Thank you,” she says. “Dad said to have Mom do it, since I don’t know how to use the big knives. But then Mom said she’s busy, so I should ask him. And I can’t ask my big brother because —” she nods to one of the sleeping teenagers. 

You smile. “I see your predicament. What’s your name?”

“Penelope. What’s yours?”

You tell her. “But you can call me Tee. Most people do.”

“Why?”

“Well, y’see, I run this show on the radio. Me and my friend, Jerry. You know Tom and Jerry?”

“Oh! You’re Tom.”

“Yep. Or Tee. And Jerry is Mouser.”

“Mouser?” she asks, wrinkling her nose with an incredulous smile on her mouth. 

“Tom’s the cat and Jerry’s the mouse.”

“So, shouldn’t you be called something else?”

“Well, one of my friends calls me tomcat.”

“Is it Miyuki?”

You blink, surprised. “Yes, it is.”

She nods. “That’s good. It’s better like that. That way you’re the cat and your other friend is the mouse.”

You smile. “I agree.”

She springs up from the fluffy carpet under the coffee table suddenly. “Wait here. Please.”

You let her do her thing, glancing down at your work to finish cutting it up into pieces suitable for her. 

Penelope returns a minute later with a Capri-Sun. “Can you open this, too, please? I can never get the straw in.”

“Sure thing. Is this okay?” You nod to the plate. 

She nods. “Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.” You take the Capri-Sun, pulling the straw loose, pulling off the wrapper, then poking it into the hole. 

Penelope watches you. “I like your nails. And your lipstick.”

You smile. “Thank you. I like your shoes.”

“They light up.” 

She stomps one for demonstration. You ooh accordingly. 

You linger there, more relaxed now than you’ve felt for most of the evening. 

But, just to take the edge off a little further, you’ll try to find someplace else. A little more quiet, you think. 

“You know your way around here?” you ask. 

Penelope nods matter-of-factly. “The kitchen and movie theater is that way. The bathroom is this way.”

Jeez. Movie theater?

You shake your head a little. “I’ll be in the kitchen, then, if you need anything else. And don’t worry about it, either, alright?”

She nods. “‘Kay. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You stand, smoothing down your dress, and head to where she said the kitchen was — to your right. Down a hall, where you pass a large and ornately decorated dining room, then you come upon the equally large kitchen. Really a beautiful piece of interior design. You’d want Raul to be your designer if you had the money to afford anything other than your little apartment. 

You pause in front of the empty kitchen, looking down the rest of the hall hesitantly before deciding you are curious about this home theater Raul has. 

You find it easily, a little sign above the door signaling it, and poke your head in. You are being very nosy, you know, sticking your nose into places you are probably not allowed but — home theater, man. Home theater. 

You find a light switch — it’s actually a touchscreen display embedded in the wall and a clumsy fumble of your fingers somehow manages to turn the lights on — which illuminates a large room. Bigger than your own bedroom, if you think about it. Large white screen at one end, with a few rows of plush loveseats facing it. You spy a popcorn maker and oodles of candy stocked on shelves in the wall. Even a… is that an Icee machine?

“If you want to hide in here for the rest of the night, I don’t mind.”

“Holy shit!”

You whirl around, a hand flying to your chest, but it’s just Raul, looking torn between guilt and amusement as he holds up his hands in a placating motion. 

“Sorry, sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“No — um, I should be apologizing, I was… snooping —”

He snorts, waving a hand. “Snooping. Don’t worry about it, kid. If Kazuya trusts you, I trust you. Snoop all you like. Well. Within reason.”

You laugh. “Still. I shouldn’t have —” you gesture to the theater, stepping away from the door. “It’s, um, really cool, though.”

“Kinda obnoxious, though, isn’t it?” he asks, chuckling and leaning in to look. “It’s mostly for the kids. Sandra and I still like going out to the movie theaters.”

“I would think you run less of a bill here.”

“True. But I also appreciate how movie theaters let total strangers come together to watch something. Something about collective action, don’t you think?”

“That… Yeah. Yeah. I agree. Like with concerts.”

Raul nods quickly. “Exactly. It’s nice. The kids just think it’s cheesy.”

You chuckle. “They’ll come around to it when they get older.”

“That’s what Sandra says, too.” He leans in to turn off the light and close the door. “So, I’m guessing you came in to escape.”

“Just a small break.”

The two of you start for the kitchen. Raul nods. “I get it. Kazuya had a penchant for doing that, too, when he first got traded. He still does it sometimes these days.”

“Sounds like Kazuya,” you chuckle. 

“He likes his space. Solitude. So, I was pretty surprised to keep hearing he was out and about this offseason.”

You wince. “I, uh, commandeered probably too much of his time.”

“I don’t know,” Raul says, stepping into the kitchen while you pause at the counter. “He probably wouldn’t agree with you. And I’m not sure I do, either. It’s good to see him getting out.”

He opens one of those fancy wine refrigerators under the island. “I try to convince him to hang out with me or Sandra, even if it’s just errands or something. Just to get him out. He’s much more willing with you, which is better. You’re a good influence on him.”

Something about that makes your heart ache. You try to brush it off. 

“Wine?” he asks, two glasses now in hand, along with a wine bottle. Something French. A rosé. 

“Just a little. Thanks.”

“Sure. It’s much preferable to beer, but some of the guys can be weird about it.” He rolls his eyes as he says that. 

You laugh. 

“Anyway, I just came in to check on you. Doing my host-ly duties. Plus Kazuya was a bit worried.”

“About —?”

“Who else?”

He passes you the glass and you take a sip. 

“Everything’s fine,” you say. It really is. You should be ready to head out soon. But you’re curious about something. 

“You know… I hadn’t realized you two were so close. I mean, they talk about it in the press but…” This is something different. 

“He’s a good kid. Spent a lot of time with us when he moved.”

“He never mentioned it.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to. It’s a casual thing. Meaningful but casual.” 

“That’s nice. I was worried he'd been alone this whole time.”

“We do what we can. Seems like you cracked the code, though.”

You smile and shrug. “All it takes is a baseball to the face.”

He laughs. “You’re funny. I can see why he likes you.”

“Huh?”

Raul raises a brow. “As a friend, kid.”

“Right.” 

An awkward silence takes hold. He takes a pointed sip of his wine. 

 You groan. “No, I just completely revealed myself, didn’t I?”

“Not now. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see it. But yes. It was an official confirmation.”

“So embarrassing,” you whisper. 

“I think it’s nice. The only thing I’m wondering is — why aren’t you two together?”

You smile tiredly. “You aren’t the first person to ask that question.”

He shakes his head. “I ask out of his interest. To protect him. You seem like a nice person but… Kazuya so rarely allows himself to feel these things. To let people in like that. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I can tell. And truthfully, you do seem like a good person. You do. But sooner or later, we’re going to be packing in it to go to Arizona for spring training. And from there, it’s six months of baseball. Do you really want to wait that long?”

“I mean, I don’t… I wasn’t…”

“You should. They said that hit you got was real serious. Serious enough to kill you, if things had gone differently. Regrets are inevitable but is this one you want to keep, if you can do something about it?”

You don’t say anything, staring down at your wine glass, where your lipstick has left a mulberry mark on the rim. 

“That’s all I ask,” he says gently. “Just don’t hurt him. Please.”

“Hey, tomcat! There you are… Was worried you got lost in this place — oh, hey, Raul.”

“Oh, hey, Raul. So disrespectful of your elders.”

Kazuya laughs and you find yourself relaxing at the sound of it. 

“Not my fault I prefer to see her face over yours,” he says, smirking. 

Raul rolls his eyes and you smile, ducking your head as your face warms. 

“You two coming in here to sneak in the good stuff?” Kazuya asks next. “Seriously. This beer sucks. I mean, all beer sucks, but this one sucks extra.”

Raul laughs. 

“Shouldn’t have let yourself be peer pressured into it,” you say, scooting him your wine glass. “Finish it off. I’m good.”

“I’ll be outside,” Raul chuckles, picking up his wine glass. “Help yourselves. There are some wine coolers in the fridge.”

He steps out. Kazuya finishes your wine, then puts the glass in the sink, starting to wash it; now that you know he and Raul were closer than initially conveyed, you can see the ease with which he moves here. 

“So, what happened?” he asks.

“Well… I met one of the kids. Penelope. Nice girl.”

“Funny kid.”

You chuckle, only imagining what his and her interactions must be like. He isn’t… terrible with kids. You imagine with his profession, he can’t be. A tad awkward with the little ones but better with the older ones. 

“What else?”

At the sink, he sponges the inside of the glass, the soft side of the sponge squeaking a little against the glass; soapy bubbles spill over from his palm. 

You cross your arms as you lean back against the counter, giving him a bashful smile that makes him raise an eyebrow. 

“I snooped.”

“Can’t take you anywhere, can I.” 

You pout until he chuckles. “Alright, fine. What’d you snoop on?”

“The home theater.”

Kazuya starts laughing. 

“It’s crazy. I mean… What?”

“I know,” he laughs. “It’s ridiculous, right?”

“It’s… an interesting choice. Although I don’t know if I can judge. If I had the opportunity for, like, a free room…”

“You’d want a studio?”

“What? No, I’d make Batman and Robin a bedroom.”

He laughs, shutting off the water, setting the wine on a drying mat, and grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands. 

“Raul’s nice,” you say. 

“He’s not half bad.”

You smile and roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“He has a habit of making people introspective,” he adds. “He just can’t help himself. But I guess old people are just like that.”

“Old people. Please. He’s only thirty-nine. Besides… it’s not so bad.”

“No? Well, it did look like you two were having a pretty serious conversation,” he says casually, turning to lean against the counter beside you. The heat of his body is palpable in the few inches between your bodies. 

Serious is an understatement.

You’re still thinking about it. 

About everything you’ve been told.

By your sister, by Hector, by Raul. 

A few things stand out.

One. He deserves to know. By this point, it isn’t going to blow over, not since you know how he feels, too. There is a hole in your heart that he carved out and no one but him can fill it.

Two. He deserves to know now because in a little over a month from now, he will be heading to Arizona, not to return until March thirtieth. 

Three. You have the opportunity. The chance. Right in front of you. Why not take it? 

Maybe this will end in heartbreak. Maybe you’ll walk away with that hole in your heart and it’ll never be filled, not by anyone, not by him. But you said it before.

You can’t live your life closed off to protect yourself. And you can’t close off now, realizing how much he means to you. Scared at how much he means to you. But also in the position where you know you likely mean as much to him. 

Enough for him to say something.

“I was given the shovel talk,” you say at last. He let you stew in your silence for a minute. Maybe he can tell. 

He grimaces. “Sorry. He doesn’t — they don’t —”

“No, no… it’s okay. I’m glad you have people looking out for you like that.”

“Yeah, but you’re not…” he struggles for a second, lips pursing, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “One. They worry too much. And two… you aren’t going to do that.”

But you did. But you will. But just because it might hurt right now, to know you didn’t say anything, doesn’t mean the rest of it will hurt, too.

It swells inside you with a hurricane force. You want to spill it all, tell him everything. 

“Can we talk? Somewhere… private? Please?” You’re this side of desperate.

He can tell, a little alarmed, a little… scared?

It flabbergasts you as he nods quickly and takes you by the hand. You can’t even enjoy the feel of his hand in yours because of the confusion.

It hits you quickly, though, as you climb the stairs to the second floor.

How must it sound — for you to mention your shovel talk, then for him to say he believes you won’t hurt him, and for you to ask to talk. Quite urgently. 

Does he think you want to go back on your agreement to be friends?

This is… it’s not that. It is, in a way, because you hope you can be more than friends but the core of you, that stays the same. 

He is one of your best friends. 

You’ll always want that. 

You don’t say anything until you find the both of you inside one of the many guest rooms — a spacious thing, with a four-poster King-sized bed not unlike his own, with a large set of windows that overlook the backyard and the ocean. 

“I still want to be friends,” you say as soon as the door shuts behind him. 

He turns, blinking at you.

“I mean… you don’t have to worry about that. But the truth is, I’ve made a mistake. Not about being friends with you after… after. You know. But more in that… I didn’t say anything when I should’ve.”

He tenses, saying your name.

“It’s true,” you say, words forming faster than you can say them. “It’s not just you, it was never just you because I… I really like you. I have for a while, I think.”

Miyuki Kazuya, you think, is speechless. His eyes are wide, too, looking at you like…

You look away. Keep talking. You can’t stop. You have to explain. He has to know why.

“You just caught me off-guard. You’ve never… I didn’t expect that to happen. Not from you and it’s not bad, it wasn’t, it still remains… one of the nicest moments I’ve ever had but I was… stupid. I didn’t say anything when I should’ve and then the time kept passing and I kept thinking you didn’t deserve for my words to just be some kind of afterthought when they should’ve been spoken there.

“But then I realized that kind of thinking was useless. The time keeps passing. It always will and for me, it hasn’t changed anything. My feelings are still as they are, maybe stronger, after everything. I was just so…” you slide a hand down your face, smiling faintly. “Surprised. I mean, in what universe…”

“In this one,” Kazuya says, looking determined then, a ferocious kind of passion you’ve only seen in clips of him playing, but never directed at you. As though you are something he is passionate about.

But you should know better. You are passionate about him. You know, then, that he is passionate about you, too.

Two-way street. 

What a stunning kind of absolute. 

It’s the kind that makes you want to reach for him, pull him into your arms. 

He takes a step toward you. Your heart speeds up.

He says your name. “It’s this universe. This one. And if my multiversal selves have any kind of common sense, they’d find you, too.”

“Kazuya…”

Another step. His face is a shade hesitant now. Uncertain. It makes him younger.

“Do you… You mean that.”

“Every word,” you whisper. “I understand if you’re… upset I held back this long.”

“I had a feeling,” he murmurs. “That you were feeling it, too. It… it gave me hope. I would’ve waited.” 

“You don’t need to.”

His hands cup your face. The brush of his warm calloused hands against the softness of your face is dizzying. The look in his eyes is tender. You feel like you might buckle from the weight of it.

“Can I ask you something else?”

A nod.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and in the next moment, his lips are on yours. 

You turn into a puddle of goo in his hands, everything inside you shivering at the touch of his lips to yours, so warm and so soft. 

The first press is exploratory. A discovery in the making. 

Everything after that is so much more certain. A promise, a vow. 

His hands leave your face, one coming to your waist, the other sliding around to the back of your neck, keeping you there as he kisses you, pressing, insistent. Like he’s trying to take in as much of you as you can. 

You shiver, sliding your arms around his neck, one of your hands finding its place in his hair. Silky soft strands glide through your fingers. He tugs you closer. Closer and closer until there is no space between you, until your very atoms might be intermingling, too. 

The heat of him bleeds into you. The smell of his shampoo overwhelming. 

The fact that you’re here, that this is him. 

Your lips part. He shivers this time. 

A sound. 

“Miyuki, you can’t just hide — Jesus Christ!”

The two of you wrench apart, heads snapping to the source of the voice. 

Wendy stands in the doorway, her eyes wide. The shock leaves her quickly. “Oh my god, look at the state of you two! Stay here. Do not go back out. I’ll be back.” 

The door shuts before you two can say anything else. 

Look at the state of — you two can’t look that bad. You didn’t do much. Your hands did find their way to his hair but that’s —

You look at each other at the same time. 

“Oh, god,” you say. 

His lips are tinted mulberry, more smeared around his mouth. 

Kazuya starts laughing. “You, too!”

You join his laughter, listing into him. His body shakes with it. 

You laugh and laugh and laugh, arms wrapped around one another, and it’s like a puzzle piece sliding into place, the last one of the set, a masterpiece before your eyes. 

Considering you know a thing or two about puzzles… you know what you’re talking about. 

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:15 — 1/16/2023]

[Metric’s “Eclipse (All Yours)” plays] Tear me down, they can't take you out of my thoughts Under every scar, there’s a battle I’ve lost Will they stop when they see us again? I can’t stop, now I know who I am

Now I’m all yours, I’m not afraid And you're all mine, say what they may And all your love, I’ll take to the grave And all my life starts

[Off-air recording starts] Mouser: I guess that explains that? Tee: I love you, Mouser.  Mouser: [Laughing] I love you, too, Tee.

“Oh, but we have to get on Batman! Batman and Robin would want me to!”

Kazuya hoists the backpack with your belongings on his back, eyeing you. 

“You know, if they could talk, I don’t think that’s what they would say.”

Pop music plays faintly from the speakers. A Bastille song, you think. Dominating over it is the sound of thrilled screams and the mechanical rapid fire click of rollercoasters. 

Despite being late January — exactly three months since your concussion — Valencia, California is unusually warm, the sun shining down on you, a cooler breeze accompanying it. Nothing uncomfortable, though. You whipped out your jean shorts for it, along with a black t-shirt with the Batman symbol on the breast. Your crew socks match. You’re just wearing a pair of comfortable sneakers, though. No Docs. That’d probably kill your feet, with all the walking you’re going to do today. It’s finished with your usual black cherry lip lacquer. You’ve gotten several compliments on your outfit. You’re pleased. 

Six Flags Magic Mountain is busy but not as busy as it gets during the height of the summer. The warm temperatures teased out a few more people but it’s still an awkward time of the year and an awkward time of the week — a Wednesday. 

Not that it matters much to you. Kazuya bought both of you the FLASH Pass add-ons for your already-expensive tickets, that way you don’t have to wait in line for too long. You can’t say you disagree. Lines can be two hours long or more sometimes. It would be disappointing to walk away having only ridden, like, five rides because of that. 

No, the only way you’re walking out with such a low number is if your head starts bothering you. 

Which, several hours into this trip, a couple rides under your belt, is fine. 

Even Kazuya is a good sport about all of it. He resolutely refuses to open his eyes on any of the rides, as well as let go and generally make any noise, but that’s fine. You can tell he’s actually having some fun, even with that. 

“No,” you say, taking his hand and starting for Batman: the Ride. “They would say, like, thank you for everything you have done for us, Tee, we love you. And then they would say that.”

“Well, let’s still not pretend like going on Batman isn’t this trip’s primary purpose.”

“True!”

Valencia is only a three hour drive from San Diego. Well. Four with traffic. 

Still, you’d decided it would be best to spend the night here instead of making yourselves brave the drive back. 

Everything is perfect, regardless. He’ll be leaving soon, but you aren’t so worried about it anymore, now that you’ve talked and settled everything. Peoria is only about five and a half hours from San Diego. You don’t mind making the drive for a weekend trip or something. Plus, they have a Waffle House there, and you’ve always wanted to go. 

“So, you’re going for Waffle House. Not for me. You know. Your boyfriend,” Kazuya had said when you mentioned that. 

You’d just laughed and said, “I can go for both things! They are not mutually exclusive.”

And despite his blustering, he would never say no to you visiting him during the time that he’ll be gone, so, it’s settled. You’ll visit for Waffle House and your boyfriend. 

Even now, a few weeks after that night at the house, thinking that way about him sends a pleasant zing up your spine. Your hand tightens on his before you let go so you can hook your arm in his, sides pressed together. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, head tilted up with a smile as you pass the archway with DC UNIVERSE written at the top, marking your entrance into this themed sector of the park with all the superhero rides. 

You explore the themed buildings a bit, finding a statue of Batman at one point, which you need a picture with. 

“Hey, we passed a Wonder Woman one. You didn’t want to take one with her, too?”

“It would be a disservice to stand next to her with my Batman merch,” you say. “Make sure you get my socks, please!”

He backs up accordingly. “I thought Batman and Wonder Woman were friends.”

“As much as anyone can be friends with Batman,” you snort, then beam as he lifts his phone. 

“Batman and I have that in common,” he says. 

You laugh. 

“Don’t laugh!”

He pouts about it all the way to the entrance to the ride, which is an archway that says Gotham City Park. It should really be Robinson Park, if they wanted to be accurate, but you guess the notoriety of Gotham City needs to be emphasized more. The wall near it has a carved stone Batman emblem, with THE RIDE underneath. You make him take another picture of you in front of it, then enter the queue. 

“You know, it has me thinking,” he says. 

The queue is outside, snaking through a park. Since you’re in the FLASH pass line, you easily bypass the long lines of people. Soon enough, the queue enters into a fake sewer tunnel. 

“What has you thinking?”

You run into a small line near the stairs. Voices echo, bouncing off the cement walls. No one notices you two. Kazuya is ‘incognito’ with a black ballcap with the Wonder Woman logo on it. You bought it for him when you got here and he faithfully exchanged his Padres cap for it. 

Funnily enough, by the point you two realized you were not just going to be friends, the press had started to let go of those dating rumors, turning their eyes onto something else. 

It gave you some peace but it also meant you two had to be careful how you acted when going out. And that got tiring pretty quickly. 

Tomorrow, they’re planning on releasing a statement breaking the news about your relationship. So, today, you get to be as affectionate as you’d like. Any questions would soon be answered. 

“So… for you and Jerry, you say he’s the Donna Troy to your Dick Grayson.”

“Yeeees?”

He looks a tad petulant as he asks, “Well, what about us?”

You smile. “That’s easy. You’re the Lois Lane to my Clark Kent.”

“What about Batman and Catwoman? Talia?” He stresses the last name knowing how much you like her, and her and Bruce’s dynamic. 

“Bruce and Talia are more like a divorced couple. And Bruce and Selina aren’t much better.” You pat his shoulder. “Batman has no healthy romantic relationships. No healthy relationships, period, to be honest. That’s just how he is.”

Kazuya thinks about this for a second. “You know… yeah. Yeah. That’s fair. Why am I Lois Lane, though?”

“Do you really consider yourself Clark Kent?”

He laughs. “Fair enough, tomcat.”

[Night Owl Transcript — 20:04 — 1/27/2023]

Tee: Wheeew, the switchboard is going crazy. Guys, take a chill pill. Now, instead of hundreds of you asking questions about my love life, why don’t we focus on the fact that it’s romanticize-your-life Friday? Everyone, have a great evening. Let the romanticizing commence. 

[Florence + the Machine’s “Dog Days Are Over” plays] And I never wanted anything from you Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that

The dog days are over The dog days are done Can you hear the horses? 'Cause here they come

“You want to blindfold me? I’m not against the idea but we’ve barely gotten to third base. I feel like we should wait a little longer before we start exploring that stuff…”

The tips of his ears turn red. He pinches your cheek. “That’s not what this is for.”

“Okay, so, what is it for?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Well, you could’ve guessed that, considering you’re sitting in his car in front of your apartment and not, you know, in the bedroom. You’d just wanted to give him a little bit of hell. 

“Is this a Valentine's thing?” you ask as he wraps the blindfold over your eyes. 

Kazuya pauses. 

You grin. “You just realized it’s in three days, didn’t you?”

He coughs. “In Japan, men don’t do anything for Valentine’s. The women do. White Day, March fourteenth, is our time. So.”

“Well, we don’t have to do anything regardless. I know you’re leaving the day after.”

“No, it’s fine. This is… Yeah. Guess it’s a gift. Sort of.”

“Sort of. How romantic.”

He pinches your side. You laugh. 

“Brat,” he mutters, pressing a fleeting kiss to your mouth. 

Your hands come up to his shoulders. 

“Hm,” he says as he pulls away. “You know… maybe —”

“Don’t start. It’s too late for that. Show me the surprise.”

“Later?”

“Focus, Lane.”

“I’m very focused, Kent.”

You grin, grab his hand to press a kiss there, then sit back in your seat. 

“Let’s see what this is all about, then.”

“Right.”

A nervous kind of energy fills the car. You hear him shift back into drive, then you’re back on the road. One of your playlists you shared with him plays from the speakers. You hum along to it, tapping the beat on your thigh. 

You drive for some time. Twenty to twenty-five minutes. But eventually, he’s pulling the car into park, shutting it off, and telling you to wait. 

His door opens and closes. A second later, yours opens. 

You take his hand, carefully pulling yourself out of the car. Hard ground meets your Docs. He tugs you further away, then shuts the passenger door. A cool breeze skitters across your skin. A car passes somewhere behind you. You sniff the air. It smells like —

Fingers tug at the knot at the back of your head. The blindfold loosens. 

You blink the blurriness out of your eyes. The pink and orange sky greets you, the sun starting to set. In front of you is a two-story condo. The exterior is painted a soft shade of blue. More homes sit on either side.

He pulls you up the set of stairs that lead to a tiny porch, fishing out a key from his pocket. 

“Wait… is this yours?”

You knew he’d been house-hunting. He never said much about it, other than that he was still considering his options. 

The inside is open and spacious. A set of stairs lead up to the second floor. Everything looks new. 

“Needed to get a place eventually,” he says. “But, yeah. Had it furnished. Needs decorations, though, for the walls and stuff. Thought you could help with that…”

You smile, knowing he’s talking about the puzzles. “Of course.”

It’s a three bedroom, three bath. He doesn’t lead you upstairs, but further in. 

A dining room is set off beside the kitchen, which shares an open plan with the living room in front of it. A bay window sits near the dining room. A sliding glass door leads outside, to a —

The door opens. The saltiness of the ocean hits you immediately. 

You follow him out, shoes thumping against the wooden deck, which has an outdoor grilling area, a table, and then a pool. 

It overlooks South Mission Beach. Just sprawling sandy beaches and foamy tides, waves crashing against the shoreline. 

“Kazuya?”

You aren’t sure. Did he really…

He shrugs, smiling a little. “You said beachfront properties were the best, especially if they had a pool deck, since the ocean was cold most of the year. And if anything, you get nice sunsets. I thought about it for a while and I think you were right.”

So it isn’t a coincidence the sun is starting its descent right this moment. 

“Kazuya…”

His arms come around you, pulling you into his chest. “You can stay here while I’m gone. Enjoy this stuff since I won’t be here to. I’m not asking you to move in yet but… it’s yours, too.”

You duck your head, hiding your smile in his collar. “But do you like it?”

He rests his chin on your head, hand stroking up and down your back. 

He says your name, syllables wrapped in warmth. “Truthfully, at the risk of sounding cheesy, as long as you’re here, anywhere is fine. I would even be okay with your crappy little apartment.”

You laugh.  

“But I don’t know…” he presses his lips to your head. “Maybe next year, Batman and Robin will get to see their home.”

You smile. The two of you are swaying a little. Back and forth. Back and forth. You can hear the waves from here. 

“Hopeful for the future?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

Yeah. 

You do. 

[Hozier’s “All Things End” plays] And all things end All that we intend is built on sand Slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Won't change our plans When we begin again

Dogfish ━ Mary Oliver

Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing kept flickering in with the tide and looking around. Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly.

If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin, which was rough as a thousand sharpened nails.

And you know what a smile means, don’t you?

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song     where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;     I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was

alive for a little while.

It was evening, and no longer summer. Three small fish, I don’t know what they were, huddled in the highest ripples as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body one gesture, one black sleeve that could fit easily around the bodies of three small fish.

Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all know how that one goes, don’t we?

Slowly

the dogfish tore open the soft basins of water.

You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen

to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.

And anyway it’s the same old story-- a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive.

Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason.

And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world.

And look! look! look! I think those little fish better wake up and dash themselves away from the hopeless future that is bulging toward them.

And probably, if they don’t waste time looking for an easier world,

they can do it.

[adaru32]

The Red Devil's Chronicles' Devil May Cry January 2024 News Updates: Peak of Combat, Dense Capcom, etc.

Hey there, how's it going? Here are January 2024's Devil May Cry news updates that I've come across:

1. Pressslee on Twitter/X is continuing development of a Devil May Cry fan game about Dante's and Vergil's childhood.

2. Capcom is holding another creator collab contest (for USA and Canada only).

3. DMC1 Dante gets featured on Capcom's new promo art of their Trip Tokai.

4. Capcom is getting more strict with their no mods policy.

b) Only to reconsider after fans give their feedback.

c) And pull DMC3 and the original DMC4 off of Steam.

5. More exposing of the company Nebula Joy behind the Peak of Combat game.

b) And what happened with its development.

c) And more.

d) And how the developers are trying to make themselves look good by removing negative criticism and other backlash (also false advertising).

e) And how the developers will ban anyone who asks for a refund of the game (scroll up for more context).

MY THOUGHTS ON THESE UPDATES:

1. Pressslee's game is looking great! Looking forward to what else they have in store for it.

2. It's great that Capcom's holding another creator collab. But I feel bad for those outside of Canada and USA who can't participate, and for those that definitely deserve a spot that don't get accepted. I would love to enter these contests myself, considering how much of a Devil May Cry, Resident Evil, and Ace Attorney fan I am.

But what sets me back are how busy and distracted I am where I can't keep a consistent schedule to make content relating to those games often. And the fact that I'm more of an observer than one who participates in discussions, and such.

3. Awesome how Capcom continues to feature Dante in their official promo arts. I find it hilarious (and hot, NGL) that the straps on Dante's chest look like they're ready to snap off 🤭

4. It's really disappointing what route Capcom's going through...Nice that they sort of reconsidered, but to pull DMC3 and DMC4 off of Steam? Eesh...And it's coincidentally on the time of DMC4's anniversary, and close to DMC3's....At least DMC4 Special Edition's still available, and you can still play DMC3 in the HD Collection.

Another thing that baffles me is Capcom's approach with the Peak of Combat game. I understand there may be contracts and such, but it's still shocking how they've been pretty quiet about the backlash from the fans of it, how they haven't done anything about Nebula Joy's scamming ways, and Itsuno's been reposting the ads about it on his Twitter/X profile...

5. Speaking of Peak of Combat, it's amazing how far down the rabbit hole goes about the ridiculousness of this game's developers, Nebula Joy...Yes, Capcom is taking part of the development of this game by supervising, but Nebula Joy's the one pulling the strings on what happens with it.

I've got a story as well. So yesterday I went to get gas for my car. The clerk notices my Devil May Cry buttons I have on the strap of my purse. He tells me he got the Peak of Combat game. It costed him $100, he only unlocked 2 characters, and he was one of the top players in the 1st week of its launch. His thoughts on the game though? He dislikes it, and regrets paying $100 for it.

One of my friends/followers on Twitter/X RealNerored/Neroredgrave is gonna make a video exposing things he and other fans' experienced with the game and its developers.

** So Devil May Cry V's anniversary is coming up as well. I would love to make a celebratory piece of it, but I can't really think of anything to make. I've got a few unfinished pieces of DMCV fan art in my folders, but I don't think they're worthy enough to be shared as a way of celebrating its anniversary. We'll see, though. **

[astra-galaxie]

“Hey, Hemlock! Is this your card?” - Oberon Douglas

Biographical information

Full Name: Oberon Indigo Douglas

Alias(es):

Midsummer (codename)

Ronnie (nickname)

O (nickname)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Status: Alive

Age: 36 (season 3)

Birth: 1980

Race: Human

Nationality: Australian

Origin: Melbourne, Australia

Residence:

Melbourne, Australia

New York City, USA (formerly)

Concordia, USA (formerly)

Profession(s): U.N.I.T. Agent

Past profession(s): Firefighter

Family:

Nathan Pandit (husband)

Avi Douglas (son)

Lars Douglas (brother)

Namgung Angela (ex-sister-in-law) (incarcerated)

April Douglas (niece)

May Douglas (niece)

June Douglas (niece)

Poppy Douglas (mother)

Ryan “Digger” Douglas (father)

Devi Pandit (mother-in-law) (incarcerated)

Léon Toussaint (father-in-law)

Affiliation(s): U.N.I.T.

Profile

Height: 6’0” Age: 36 (season 3) Weight: 175lbs Eyes: green Blood: A+

Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Oberon Douglas is a tall man with a lean build, shoulder-length dirty blond hair, a short beard, and emerald green eyes. His fair skin has whitish, pale pink burn scars; the most obvious ones are the scars around his right eye, the left side of his neck, across his chest, his arms, and the back of his right hand.

In his suspect appearance, Oberon wears dark-wash jeans, a dark gray tank top under a purple button-up shirt that he rolls up sleeves, and dark brown work boots. He has a black leather necklace with three fake fangs and four small hoop earrings on his left ear: two on the lower lob and the other two on the shell.

Since Oberon sustained hearing loss from his older U.N.I.T. days and the fire, he has hearing aids. He can hear without them, but it sounds hushed and mumbled. He wears standard hearing aids but insisted on the casings being bright purple, his favourite colour.

In his U.N.I.T. uniform, he wears tight black pants tucked into calf-high black boots with purple straps, a fitted black leather jacket, a dark purple belt, and slim, dark purple protective gloves that can withstand the impact of his explosive cards. He also wears his U.N.I.T. equipment, including his gauntlet, headphones, communicator (built-in to his gauntlet), sonic choker, and a handgun kept in his waist holster.

As a Bureau agent, Oberon wears fitted black pants, black boots with purple laces, a light gray shirt, and a dark purple leather jacket with a Bureau badge pinned to the left side.

Per his suspect appearance in United in Ashes, it is known that Oberon knows chemistry and is a musician (he plays the drums).

History

The younger brother of Lars Douglas, Oberon hails from the land down under. He grew up in the city of Melbourne with his parents and Lars. He was raised listening to his father's army stories and his mother's tales of her time as a rock star.

When Oberon was young, he decided to join the military as his father had. But Oberon never imagined that recruiters from U.N.I.T would be watching the applicants that day. He had impressed them with his initiative and creativity so much that they offered him a position. Oberon accepted the offer and began his training to become a U.N.I.T agent.

He grew close to Director Kavi Pandit and became a trusted agent and friend. This was even before he met the Director's grandson, Nathan Pandit. Oberon was Kavi's first choice for high-security missions, like the mission to take down Switch Labs.

Oberon's contact inside Switch Labs was Nathan, who had reported the laboratory to his grandfather after discovering their illegal experiments. The two got along well (too well, in Kavi's opinion), and Oberon volunteered to become Nathan's partner after the younger joined the agency to avoid going to jail.

The two became some of U.N.I.T's best agents with one of the highest mission success rates. The two eventually developed a romantic relationship but kept it a secret from the agency. However, Kavi claims to have always known about the couple's feelings for each other. The Director knew they would never let it interfere with their work, so he saw no reason to break them up.

After years of working together, Kavi sent Oberon and Nathan on an undercover mission to Concordia. While away from the control of U.N.I.T, they decided to get married. Oberon proposed using a silver ring with black gems. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Nathan, and to his delight, his boyfriend felt the same.

The couple eloped with Kavi, who was now retired from U.N.I.T as their witness. They knew they wanted a proper wedding with their families and friends after leaving the agency, so they began dreaming and planning the event together. They documented their ideas in a scrapbook with plans to finalize the details once they retired from U.N.I.T.

To Oberon's surprise, one day, Nathan approached him, asking if he wanted to try having a child together. They had talked about having kids one day, but the topic of trying to have biological children was a touchy subject for Nathan. Oberon would have loved to have a child that shared the two's DNA, but he would never force his husband to do something he wasn't comfortable with.

But Nathan was the one who offered to try and get pregnant. He told Oberon that after thinking about it for a long time, he wanted to have a child with his husband. But if he couldn't carry the child to term, he wasn’t sure if he would try for a second time.

Oberon respected his husband's choice and helped Nathan transition from hormone supplements to prenatal medication. It took the couple several tries, but eventually, they had a positive pregnancy test confirming the conception of their child.

It was nine long, hard months before they welcomed their son into the world, but Oberon stayed by his husband's side the entire time. He got and made everything Nathan craved (no matter how strange) and handled the ever-changing mood swings.

He also nearly got his hand broken during the labour and delivery.

But it was all worth it to hold Avi for the first time. Oberon fell in love when Avi looked at him with his matching green eyes, and he swore to treasure and protect his son every day for the rest of his life.

Like his brother Lars, Oberon is a natural father. Nathan always says his husband is the fun parent because Oberon knows how to interact with kids. Oberon argues that Nathan needs to give himself more credit regarding his parenting skills. While he may be awkward around other children, Nathan has a special bond with Avi; he always knows what his son needs, even when Oberon is at a complete loss for what the boy wants.

A couple of years after Avi was born, Oberon and Nathan began planning their life after leaving U.N.I.T. They decided to move to Australia since they would be closer to Oberon's family, and Avi would be able to see his younger cousins more often. They designed the type of house they wanted to buy, the area they would live in, and even what careers they would pursue. Oberon still wanted to be an emergency responder but was considering becoming a paramedic. Meanwhile, Nathan was looking into getting certified to be a veterinarian.

And then the fire happened.

Oberon and Nathan woke up in the middle of the night to their house nearly engulfed in flames. Oberon sent Nathan to get Avi while looking for a way out of the house. The stairs were unusable, and there was no other exit from the second floor. The only way out was for them to go out a window and climb down the tree that grew beside it.

Oberon was about to head to the window when the ceiling collapsed on top of him. He was pinned under a support beam as the fire grew more intense. Nathan returned carrying Avi and tried to move the beam, but it wouldn't budge. Oberon begged Nathan to leave him so that he and Avi would survive, and after a parting kiss, Oberon watched the two run through the fire to freedom.

After the two were gone, Oberon continued to try and free himself. As the fire burned around him, it weakened the support beam, and he could crawl out from under it. He couldn't use the window he thought Nathan and Avi had gone through, so he went into the room beside it and climbed down the tree. Once outside, he found firefighters and paramedics arriving to help, but he saw no signs of his boys.

Oberon feared that Nathan and Avi were still inside and tried to go back in and save them. But the firefighters stopped and wrestled him to the ambulance, where he passed out due to smoke inhalation. He was brought to the hospital, where doctors placed him into a medical coma to help his recovery.

A few weeks later, he was awakened from his coma with Lars and their parents sitting beside his bed. He wanted to ask them where Nathan and Avi were, but he couldn't talk due to his intubation tube. His family was so happy to see him awake, but no one even mentioned his husband and son's conditions.

It wasn't until later that night after his parents and brother left, that Director Kovac came and told him the "truth" about the fire. He said that Nathan and Avi got trapped in the nursery when trying to escape and were burned to death. Oberon couldn't believe that his boys were gone and demanded proof, but Kovac claimed their ashes had long been sent to Kavi in India for burial.

Oberon fell into a severe depression after that, and while he started recovering physically, his mental health was deteriorating. He couldn’t bring himself to contact Kavi or Léon because of his survivor’s guilt, and he feared travelling to India to find his boys’ graves. His family never knew how deeply he was hurting, and it wasn't until one day, Lars found his brother overdosing on his pain meds that Oberon finally started to get the help he needed.

After this incident, Oberon told Lars about Nathan, Avi, and his secret life. Lars was shocked to find out there had been a brother-in-law and nephew he never got to meet, but he understood why Oberon had to keep them a secret. They eventually told their parents and Angela but decided to wait and tell the triplets about their lost uncle and cousin when they were older.

With the support he needed, Oberon slowly recovered mentally and emotionally from the fire. While improving his mental health, he travelled to Australia (at the time, he and his parents lived with Lars, Angela, and the triplets in the USA) and noticed a house for sale in the area he and Nathan wanted to move to. It was the size they wanted, had a large yard, was in a great school district, and the commute into the city was reasonable. The only downside was that the house needed a lot of renovations.

But Oberon needed something to do with all his free time, so he bought the house, moved back to Australia and began renovating it into the home he dreamed of living in with his family. He knows his parents and Lars were concerned about him making a home for the family he no longer had, but the work seemed to be helping him, so they supported him. And about a year later, his parents moved to Australia and bought a home near their son.

As Oberon renovated the house, he slowly began moving in the stuff he had in storage from Concordia. When he and Nathan decided to leave U.N.I.T and move to Australia, the couple put their important and irreplaceable items into a storage unit. Oberon was the one with the key, and U.N.I.T told Nathan that he could only access the storage unit after his mission in Grimsborough, so unknown to Nathan, Oberon had the stuff shipped to Australia.

Even though Oberon believed his boys were gone, he never felt closer to them than when he worked on their house. The only things of theirs that he never parted with were Avi's stuffed Koala, Lala, and Nathan's hair comb. Both items were gifts from Oberon that Nathan and Avi treasured dearly.

The hair comb was a welcome gift after Oberon and Nathan became partners. Oberon knew the other man liked snakes and saw that Nathan (who had yet to start transitioning) always struggled to keep his hair out of his face. So when he found the snake-themed hair comb, he thought it was the perfect gift.

Oberon hadn't planned on Nathan cutting off most of his hair right before he could give him the comb.

Thankfully, Nathan saved the man from dying from embarrassment by taking the comb and sliding it into his hair, commenting, "I have thick hair." Nathan loved the hair comb and wore it whenever and wherever he could.

As for Avi's Koala, when Oberon and Nathan told their son they would be moving to Australia, Oberon got the toy to celebrate. Avi fell in love with the stuffie and the idea of moving to his dad's home country. But since the boy was so young, he had difficulty saying "Koala," so he called his new friend Lala.

Oberon didn't know if he could move on from losing his husband and son, but he was coming to terms with his life. So even if he couldn't see himself finding a new partner or starting a new family, he knew he would be alright with the rest of his family helping him, and one day he would see his boys again.

Events of Criminal Case

Season 1

Nathan and Avi mention Oberon throughout the course of Grimsborough. However, he isn’t mentioned by name until the end of The Ways of Death after Adalet and Jones find the Douglas family scrapbook, and Jones begs to know Nathan’s husband’s name.

Season 2

During Pacific Bay, Oberon is mentioned again when Nathan reveals that he and his husband work for a spy agency called U.N.I.T. Nathan continues to explain that Director Kovac ordered the fire, which “killed” Oberon. But unknown to Nathan and Avi, Oberon freed himself from under the support beam, escaping the house from another window and climbing down the tree growing near it. But sadly, Nathan and Avi had already been taken to the hospital by U.N.I.T agents, so Oberon believed they were still trapped inside.

Oberon was referenced once more during Adalet and Fili’s wedding. Nathan commented that the two had eloped because of their undercover mission. But the couple planned to have a proper wedding with their family and friends once the mission was over, and Oberon was so excited to introduce Nathan and Avi to his family.

Also, during Pacific Bay, Oberon was the agent who rescued Fili from SOMBRA after the man had been captured in Melbourne. Even though he was on medical leave, Oberon still monitored the radio waves for emergencies in his area. He intercepted Fili's distress signal and decided to rescue the MI6 agent.

After Oberon had rescued Fili and staged the scene to make the kidnappers think the Irishman had been killed, he brought the younger to a U.N.I.T-protected hospital for treatment. Oberon stayed with Fili until the man was discharged but never told him his full name. Fili only knew the man as "O" and "Midsummer" for secrecy reasons. That's why Fili never made the connection to Nathan's husband.

Season 3

It is revealed that Oberon hadn’t died in the fire after Carmen and Jack found his lighter on their crime scene during United in Ashes. After confirming that the lighter belonged to Oberon, Lars informed his teammates that his brother had been through a lot in the past years and asked them to be gentle during their questioning. The agents promised to honour the request, and they went to Oberon's house to ask him about being at the crime scene.

Oberon was stunned to hear that his boss had been murdered, but he wasn't sad that the man was gone. He respected Nicolas but never liked how the Brit had supported Director Kovac's unethical ideas when he was Assistant Director. But other than that, he had no reason to kill the man, nor could he think of the most likely potential killer out of Nicolas's enemies.

But the team later discovered that Oberon did have an excellent motive for possibly killing Nicolas. Nicolas supported the plan to "kill" Nathan and Avi and was the one who started the fire. Oberon had seen Nicolas standing outside the house that night but had no proof to incriminate the man. But despite having motive, means, and opportunity, the Bureau found Oberon innocent of murder.

In the additional investigation following the case, Lars invited Jack to meet his parents and check on Oberon at his brother's house. When they arrived, they found Oberon running around his house looking for something while Digger and Poppy tried to calm him down. After Lars got his brother to take some deep breaths, Oberon explained that he'd lost his husband's hair comb. He knew he had it on him when he visited the park, but now he couldn't find it.

Lars and Jack offered to search the park for the comb. They managed to find the accessory but discovered it covered in dirt and soot. Lars brought the comb to the plane, and Jonah used a special cleaner to clean silver. Afterward, Lars and Jack returned the hair comb to Oberon.

Oberon cried when he saw the cleaned hair comb. He explained that the only thing U.N.I.T salvaged from the fire was Nathan's dirty, soot-covered hair comb. Oberon had never been able to bring himself to clean it after the fire, feeling like if he did, he would be destroying the memories of his husband.

But after holding the cleaned comb, Oberon felt like it was Nathan's way of telling him it was time to move on, but that Oberon didn't need to forget about him and Avi. Oberon thanked his brother and Jack for finding the comb, and Lars stayed to help his family set up for the cookout in Oberon's backyard.

But that cookout would need to be put on hold because a SOMBRA mind-controlled Fili threatened to attack the team and their families. He and his family rushed to the Bureau's plane, where he was met by someone he hadn't seen in years: Léon Toussaint. Oberon immediately began apologizing to Léon for failing to save Nathan and Avi, but to both men's confusion, Léon says he thought Oberon had died in the fire.

The conversation was soon interrupted by Avi, who had exited his seat to see who his grandfather was talking to. He was so happy to see his father that he barely even questioned how his dad was alive. Even though he was stunned to see Avi alive, Oberon wasted no time embracing his son, crying tears of joy as he held the boy.

A few moments later, Nathan arrived to find his husband alive and hugging their son. He nearly tackled Oberon as he pulled him into a kiss, both momentarily forgetting about everyone else in the room.

It wasn't until they were reminded about the threat at hand that the couple decided to put the reunion on hold.

Oberon later helped the Bureau take down Fili and bring the Irishman to a hospital to make sure SOMBRA hadn't left any other "surprises" inside the man. He was later present when Nathan updated the Bureau on Fili's condition.

When it was time for the Bureau to resume their hunt for SOMBRA, Oberon and Nathan said that they would be helping Fili recover while he was in Australia. They also promised to search the Bureau's plane for SOMBRA bugs and give its security system a U.N.I.T/G.I.A upgrade. Once the plane was ready, Nathan volunteered to fly it to wherever the team was while Oberon stayed with Fili.

While in Australia, Oberon helps Fili recover from SOMBRA's control and practice his new powers. It was a challenge and dangerous at times, but Oberon wouldn't abandon his new friend, especially not when he needed him most! Oberon also got to spend time with his son Avi after spending years thinking the boy was dead. And when he was offered the position of co-pilot for the Bureau, Oberon immediately accepted, and he, Fili, Avi, and Dean rejoined the Bureau in Antarctica.

Oberon continued making appearances throughout the final two regions of Save The World. Most often, he was with Nathan as he helped his husband bring the bodies of murder victims to the plane for autopsy or simply wanted to be with Nathan. When he wasn't with his husband, he could be found either in the cockpit with Fili or spending time with Avi when he wasn't working. He also spent time getting to know the rest of the team, and he and Jonah became good friends as they bonded over their shared interest in weapons.

During The Darkest Hour, Oberon was hospitalized alongside Jonah after the two had been caught in the explosion from the bomb Angela had planted on the plane. His hearing aids exploded in his ears, and while the doctors managed to remove the pieces, Oberon's hearing was damaged even further. He was angry at Angela for trying to kill the Bureau and taking away more of his hearing. Still, he knew she would be punished for her crimes in an even higher security prison once Natasha's murder was solved and the US president was saved. After the case had been closed, Oberon and Jonah were discharged from the hospital and returned to the team.

Oberon was sad that Dupont was lost in the fight to defeat SOMBRA. He knows that death is always a possibility in his line of work, but he never thought the historian would be the one killed. But at least Dupont was able to see SOMBRA be defeated and the award the Bureau received from the UN before he passed away. Oberon knows that Dupont died proudly and that no one will forget about what he did to help destroy SOMBRA.

Following SOMBRA's defeat and Dupont's death, the Bureau was joined by their families in New York. Oberon was happy to see his parents even if his mother fussed over him and his injuries, but Nathan assured her he would be able to hear once his ears had recovered and he could be fitted for new hearing aids. And as they celebrated the defeat of SOMBRA and buried Dupont, Oberon looked forward to his future with his husband and son as they planned to move to Grimsborough and take the time to be a family again before thinking about the next chapter of their lives.

Organization(s)

U.N.I.T.

Rank: Agent

Bureau (disbanded)

Rank: Co-pilot

Story Information

First appeared: United in Ashes

Trivia

Lars references his brother during Rest and Relaxation. When teaching Jack how to play the guitar, he mentions the drummer of his band who is Oberon

Oberon is right-handed, but after the fire burned his right hand, he forced himself to learn how to use his left hand for certain things so he wouldn’t strain his right hand

The support beam which he got trapped under burned his back. He still struggles to lie on his back for extended periods of time

He is named after Oberon, King of the fairies from A Midsummer Night's Dream

It is a running joke for people to call Nathan the "Indian boy" in reference to the character from the story

They plan never to tell anyone that Nathan's deadname is Titania

He was inspired to apply to the Australian military by his father

He got his flare for dramatics from his mother

Along with knowing how to play the drums, Oberon plays the guitar, saxophone, piano, and kazoo

The last one was so he could annoy Lars after his brother wouldn't stop playing the didgeridoo

The fangs on his necklace are fake, but he always makes up new stories to tell people how he got them. He’s used everything from fighting sharks to Tasmanian Devils

He wanted to be a magician as a kid

A few characters inspire his U.N.I.T. equipment. His sonic choker is based on Black Canary's canary cry (DC) and Present Mic’s voice quirk (BNHA), while his explosive playing cards come from Gambit (Marvel)

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad)

Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad)

Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[bridgyrose]

Jaune is trans and has very gay feelings for Neptune, who is also trans.

Jaune adjusted his binder, his fingers nervously messing with the straps. “Its not like that between the two of us. Nep and I are just going to hang out. As friends. No date involved.” 

“And Ruby suddenly hates cookies and Weiss will no longer study for class!” Nora said dramatically as she laid upside down on her bed. “Jaune, the only reason you ever dress up like this is either because of a bet or a date. And I’ve seen the way you look at Neptune.” 

“I already told you its not like that! He… she only likes me as a friend.” 

“Is that why you’re blushing?” 

Jaune sighed and started to button up his shirt as his cheeks started to heat up. “Fine, I like her, but its not like she’ll do anything more than just a friend hangout with me. She has Sun and Sage on her team.” 

Nora rolled her eyes, and then rolled over to her stomach. “But you want it to be more.” 

“A little, but I know she doesnt like me like that.” 

“Then why not ask Pyrrha for a little help? I’m sure she can help you move forward.” 

“I already told you its not that simple.” Jaune finished buttoning up his shirt and looked over himself in the mirror once more. Once he was satisfied, he started to make his way to the door. “I’m going to go to her dorm, pick her up, we’re going to go out to eat and probably part ways at the end of the night so she can get back… to… Sun…” his words trailed off as he opened the door to see Neptune standing outside the dorm, shaggy hair tied back into a ponytail. 

Neptune rocked on her heels as her skirt swayed with each movement, a heavy blush across her cheeks. “S-sorry I’m here early, I uh… had to get away from Sun before he got too carried away with helping me.” 

Jaune slowly nodded and looked Neptune over. “I dont think I’ve seen you wear a skirt before.” 

“Sun’s idea. Something about tapping into my femininity for you and as a way to help me with my confidence. Especially since I’m not exactly… you know…” 

Jaune took Neptune’s hand and smiled at her. “Well, I think you’re beautiful.” 

Neptune smiled and looked away shyly, gently squeezing Jaune’s hand. “I’m… sure Sun wouldnt mind if you bring me back after sunrise.” 

“Yeah, but I wouldnt want him to worry-” 

“Even if I want to spend time with you?” 

Jaune blushed harder as Neptune pulled his arm to her chest, making sure he was aware of the false breasts she wore. “O-oh, well, I uh… I guess if he doesnt mind…” 

Neptune smiled a bit and pulled back a little to let Jaune take the lead. “Great. I cant wait for you to show me around.”

[bokuroskitten]

Hey love your content I'm about to binge read all of it!! Could I possibly request smut prompt 145 with poly Iwaio x reader. I totally understand if not. Thanks for all your hard work!! 💕💕💕💕

Your kindness is much appreciated, lovely. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as you’ve enjoyed everything else. ❦

145. You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?

➤Genre: NSFW 18+ ➤warnings: Poly Relationships, Dom!/Sub! Dynamics (Daddy & King titles), Bondage, Gags, Degradation, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Blowjob, Vaginal Penetration. ➤Character(s): Hajime Iwaizumi x Toru Oikawa x Fem!Reader ➤Word Count: 2.8k

✯The key to these dynamics is TRUST & CONSENT✯

“Princess... I told you to stop with the squirming.”

“B-But Toru...” Your pleas fell upon deaf ears as the click of the handcuffs to the bed frame signal you were trapped. You gave a tug on your arms, knowing they weren’t going to go anywhere but wanting to give Oikawa a bit of a hard time. 

You knew Iwaizumi would NOT be happy to see the two of you at home, playing with the toys without his permission. But Oikawa was feeling frisky to say the least, from the way he had roughly tugged your ass to the bedroom, to the way he currently stared at you with a predatory like gaze that had a blush rising to the tips of your ears. 

“Hmmm, what else does Iwa-Chan usually use to keep you from squirming...~” The brunette pondered out loud , a certain playfulness to his tone as his fingers brushed over the contents held in the shared box usually only Iwaziumi had the pleasure of going through. “Oh~ He always has to use this one on me!” He pulled out the all too familiar ball gag, dangling it by the leather strap as the light from a candle caused the red rubber to glisten. Your thighs clenched up at the sight of it, memories of previous scenes and fun encounters with your boyfriends clouding your judgement way too quickly. 

“Toru--”

“King, bunny. C’mon you know how to address me.”

You had to swallow a lump in your throat. “King... you know that Hajime doesn’t like when we play without him...” Another thing they had learned very well from past experiences that had left both of them unable to sit for days. Oikawa had to pout at such a remark, fingers absentmindedly rubbing along the leather within his palm. His eyes wandered to you then, seeing ever so subtle rise of goosebumps on your skin, the way your eyes still stayed glue to the toy in his hand despite the warning you just gave. 

It made his pout fade into a knowing little grin. 

“But you want Hajime to come home and see us misbehaving, don’t you Princess?”

“W-What--”

“You want him to come home and punish us for being such bad babies hm~” The patronizing tone that dripped from his lips only made your thighs clench harder as he crawled towards you, licking along his lower lip as you began to squirm once more. Easily taking hold of your jaw he slowly dragged the rubber of the ball along your lower lip, watched the way your mouth easily went slack at such an action. “Maybe he’ll be happy to see you all tied up for him anyway~ We both think you look so pretty like this~”

“King~” You breathed, cheeks brightening at such a comment.

“Open up bunny, do it for me.” His voice was nothing more than a purr as he squeezed your jaw a little tighter, urged you to open your mouth wide enough that he could slip the gag between your lips and you did just that, your desire to please Oikawa much higher right now than your fear of Iwaizumi. He let out a hum of approval as the ball popped in snug between your lips, long fingers quick to easily secure it behind your head. As he pulled back to get a good look he saw the way your eyes glistened with the idea of being caught. 

“Feel okay Princess? Not too tight is it?” That soft tone of his made a little flutter vibrate in your chest. You were quick to shake your head no, teeth digging into the rubber some as drool already threatened to slip past your stretched lips. Oikawa returned a nod of approval before he was back to the box, eyes scanning the contents once more to land on the item he wanted. Devious fingers tugged out two vibrators, one a little bigger than the other that you assumed only meant trouble. Your back arched a bit as he crawled back between your legs, a mewl escaping you as you attempted to close your thighs.

“Ah ah~” He gave gentle slaps along the skin of your tights as a warning, the contact easily making your legs to slack on his sides. “Don’t make tie your legs up too Princess, thats just too much work for me...” His brow was cocked as he ran the tip of the smaller vibrator over your panties, right where he knew your clit was hiding underneath. “Plus I wanna see you drooling around that gag already.” 

You weren’t given time to react as the little device was turned on, your body jolting from the sudden pleasure that shot directly into your bundle of nerves. Your arms strained a bit against the cuffs as you let your head lull to the side, muffled pleas leaving you as your hips twitched to the rythme of the vibrations. Oikawa watched with wide eyes, his own arousal growing in size fast at the way you were so reactive, at the sound of your pretty muffled noises. He pressed the toy further against the flimsy fabric, groaning when your back arched off the mattress. 

“That’s it bunny... Wanna see you cum just like this.” His voice dripped with desire as he watched you crumble fast, skin already beginning to tremble from the vibrations being pressed into your clit. Wanting to put the second toy to use Oikawa took advantage of the fact that you were still wearing panties, slipping the little device beneath the fabric so it could do his job and hold it right up against your clit.

The feeling of the toy on your bare flesh had you mewling, thighs going weak at your sides as they opened up further. Vibration after vibration was sent straight into the knot that formed in your core and you could feel your own arousal begin to soak your panties, looking up to Oikawa desperately for more.

He could only chuckle softly at such a look, his palm smoothing over your cheek. “You already look so desperate Princess...~ No wonder Iwa-Chan keeps you like this.”

You wanted to beg him for more, to get the teasing to stop as your hips rose off the mattress, attempted to find any more relief. But with the cuffs keeping your wrists in place and the gag held securely between your lips you would only muffle your desires at him. Oikawa had to chuckle again, a sense of power flowing through as he watched you crumble under his touch. He wasn’t used to being the dominate one but it was something he certainly could get used to. 

Slowly sliding the now dampened fabric of your panties to the side he stared as your pussy with a lust filled gaze, his grin growing as he pressed the tip of the toy to your slit. This earned a pleased little mewl from you, the reaction he was hoping for as he cooed, rubbed the rubber tip along your slit to collect your juices there.

“Want me to put it in don’t you Bunny? Wouldn’t it feel so nice to have this pretty pussy filled...”

And he was going to too, he was ready to plunge the toy into your throbbing hole before the creak of the bedroom door shook him out of his trance. Quickly the brunette snapped his head towards the door, minimal panic filling him at the sudden intrusion before he met the familiar green eyes that belonged to Iwaizumi. 

Green eyes that were currently not happy at all. 

“So this is what I’m coming home too, huh? You look a bit tied up (Y/N). Want me to come back later or?” His tone also, wasn’t very happy.

Oikawa on the other hand was thrilled, his playful grin from before coming back as he leaned into your bound form, his breath trailing over your already bare chest to have you squirming even more. “Hi Daddy~ How long were you watching hm? Bet this is such a pretty thing to come home too after a long day of work-”

“Better shut it, Toru.” Iwaizumi interrupted his partner, a sigh slipping past his lips when he received a laugh in return. He was quick to enter the room, sleeves of his button up already rolled to his elbows as he walked right up to the bed, his eyes meeting yours to see how far the two of you had gotten. 

You whined at him, your eyes fluttering when they met that of green that was laced with not only disappointment, but a predatory gaze. He almost let a smirk twitch on his lips then, almost. Instead he took Oikawa by the throat, enjoy the sound of the breathy little gasp that bubbled past his boyfriends lips. 

“You know how I feel when my babies play without me, right Toru.”

It took him a second to respond, his breath getting caught behind a tanned hand.”Y-Yes Daddy...”

“So tell me why, you’re not only playing with Princess without me, but also using MY toys without permission hm?”

Oikawa tried to use that pretty voice he used on Iwaizumi when he really wanted something, his fingers curling around his boyfriends wrist in an attempt to gain his affections. “I thought you’d wanna join Daddy~”

“But you didn’t Ask. Neither of you did.”

When Oikawa didn’t answer Iwa snorted out a laugh, releasing the males neck with enough force that he stumbled back a bit on the bed, flush rising to his cheeks as he caught his breath. “My stupid, slutty babies.” Iwaizumi murmured, his hand traveling to your face where he easily unlatched the gag he was so used to doing up. When the ball popped free of your lips lines of drool followed, only for Iwaizumi to smudge it across your cheek before you could respond to him. “So horny you couldn’t wait for Daddy to come home... or use some fucking manners.” He spit out the last phrase, which had excitement flowing through both you and Oikawa. 

“Toru, since you think you can just stick your hand in the toy box whenever you want, grab another pair of cuffs.” He spoke in a tone he knew Oikawa would follow, and that he did, scrambling to grab the closet pair of cuffs. Iwaizumi leaned into you then, unclasping your wrists from the headboard. When you moved up to kiss him he took hold of your jaw, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

“Tsk. As if. The cuffs are staying on since the two of you can’t control yourselves.” His other hand was quick to remove the little vibrator from your panties and easily throw the little device away. The sudden lose had you whining, your core now throbbing for any sort of attention. 

That made Iwaizumi laugh, releasing your jaw to stand at the edge of the bed. “Strip fully. Both of you. Against the headboard Toru, and on your knees before him (Y/N)”

“But Daddy.” Oikawa attempted to interject, but Iwaizumi’s palm was quick to swat against his cheek. The action had both you and Oikawa groaning, the males usually pale cheek turning a bright pink from the impact. “I’ve already had enough of your shit. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And he didn’t You and Oikawa were stripped naked and in your respective positions before Iwaizumi could make another command. He had been preparing a punishment all the while, low hums escaping him as he collected what he needed from the toy chest. By the time it was tucked back beneath the bed he eyed the two of you. He watched the way you stared desperately at Oikawa’s naked form, at his length which currently stood tall and dripped a little bead of precum. Oikawa hand a teasing hand over his length, biting his lip as he also couldn’t keep his eyes off your naked form. 

It made Iwaizumi’s eyes roll.

“Such desperate whores. Both of you.” He spoke as he yanked Oikawa’s hands away from him, ignored his whining as he cuffed his hands to the head board instead. “I didn’t know you two were so stupid horny that couldn’t wait a couple hours till I got home.”

When he was kneeling behind you, you spoke softly, blush rising to your cheeks as you felt him secure your two wrists behind your back. “W-We’re sorry Daddy...”

“Aw baby...” Iwaizumi murmured, bringing his lips close to your ear as his palm smoothed up your naked spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. “You’re really gunna be sorry when I’m done with the two of you.” His fingers were at the nap of your neck when he gripped a hand full of hair, roughly pushed your face down until it was dangerously close to Oikawa’s cock. 

“Open that pretty mouth Princess, since you were so eager to have to stuffed before.” 

“Oh fuck yea.” Oikawa groaned softly, his thighs falling opening further, hips pushing forward a bit so his tip could brush along your cheek. Iwaizumi sent a glare his way. “Don’t too excited. You can only cum when I tell you too.”

“B-But--” Oikawa was cut off when Iwaizumi grabbed hold of your jaw, forcing your lips open and pushing your mouth far enough down on Oikawa’s cock that your nose brushed the skin of his pelvis. You gagged softly around his length, throat clenching up from the way his tip pushed on the back of your throat. 

Iwaizumi smirked, watching the way your back tensed up and the fluttered of Oikawa’s lashes as his arms strained against the handcuffs. “Don’t make me get the cock ring, or you won’t be able to enjoy our pretty girls mouth.” Oikawa could only nod, biting hard on his lip as your warm mouth held his cock, feeling droplets of drool already begin to pool between his thighs. 

Slowly Iwaizumi loosened his grip in your hair, his hand slow travel back up the length of your spine to your perched ass. He gave it a playful swat, and although you let out a muffled yelp around Oikawa you still stayed down, making Iwaizumi hum in approval. “Good girl Bunny... keep King’s cock warm while I fuck this pretty pussy.” His fingers trailed your lower lips then, smirk growing as the subtle touch covered his finger tips in your arousal. 

Oikawa was having a hard time keeping himself still as Iwaizumi pulled off his belt and unzipped his pants, positioning himself behind you. Letting out a little whine his hips twitched, thrusting into your throat to have you gagging. Iwaizumi shot him a look, the smallest of growls escaping the back of his throat. “Don’t be stupid, Toru.”

“S-Sorry Daddy...” He barely breathed out, letting out a keep sigh to try and calm himself as your throat constricted around his cock once more, sending a pleasurable wave all the way up his spine. Iwaizumi brought his focus back down to your clenching core, slowly rubbing his tip along your slit. He grabbed at the back of your neck again to pull you off Oikawa, grinning when you took in a large breath and drool bubbled off your lips. Oikawa’s dripping cock stayed slick against your cheek, begging for more attention. “Ready Princess?” Iwaizumi asked, waiting for you to blink the tears out of your eyes and give him a nod. 

As soon as that was done he slowly pushed into you, silencing your moans of delight by pushing your lips back around Oikawa’s cock. Iwaizumi and Oikawa moaned in unison, filling you up on both ends. 

“Look at you, being stuffed by two cocks. Isn’t this what you wanted my little whore.” Iwaizumi’s voice was low as he spoke, a pleasurable glaze coming over his usually green eyes as he began to thrust his hips, watching the way your throat would bulge around Oikawa with each push into your pussy. You choked out sobs around Oikawa, new tears spilling from your eyes as both of your boys cock’s made your head spin. 

“Fuck... fuck~” Oikawa was panting as Iwaizumi continued to thrust, his cock being hugged in all the right places by your throat. He kept his eyes glued to Iwaizumi, watched the way the muscles in his arms tensed up as he fucked into you, gripped your hip tight enough that there would certainly be bruises. How badly he wanted to touch him, if only his arms weren’t bound above his head. 

“Daddy.” Oikawa breathed out through a moan, his hips trembling to stay still as your mouth made him feel light headed. Iwaizumi ignored him completely, instead thrusting into you rougher. The action had you gagging roughly on Oikawa, the vibrations traveling straight into the males core and making his own eyes water. Having to hold back his release made him whimper again. 

“Look at my stupid babies, crying over a little punishment.” Iwaizumi licked his lips, groaned when your pussy clenched around his cock at that statement. “When I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be sobbing like the bitches you are.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

was it a dream, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: You fucked Min Yoongi on Jeon Jungkook’s bed, then you took Jungkook’s virginity because Yoongi told you to, and still you and Yoongi don’t know what the fuck you are because, let’s face it, everything is too complicated now – so I guess that’s grounds to let Jungkook cum all over your face and tits as Yoongi fucks you? Sure, whatever.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, alcohol consumption; no one wants to admit anything and there’s no closure tbh; fluff and feels; smut (fem reader, threesome, semi-public sex, fingering, f-receiving oral, nipple play, penetrative sex, doggy, facial, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi and JK

a–dick–ted au, but can be read alone.

–

next on ‘dreams‘ playlist > pretty ting by bibi ft. kim seungmin > te quiero by twly ft bibi

"I get bored."

"Mhm."

"I don't like lingering."

"Mmm."

"... We're still in front of the house, Yoongi."

"I know where we are."

Min Yoongi was peeling your black hoodie up and over your head. Well, actually, his hoodie. It made your now red hair cascade down over your shoulders, wisping around your red bra straps. Yoongi was the one who suggested you to dye your hair. You didn't do it for him. You were going to do it anyway. 

Right.

Whiskey on his breath, leaning in. Tasting like danger and sex, just because it was him. 

"I like this skirt," Yoongi purred. "It's tiny."

He was referring to your plaid red skirt. Almost schoolgirl-style, except no schoolgirl wore anything that short. You used to wear it in high school when you went to the arcades on weekends. Back then, you were much skinner and trying to unsuccessfully hook-up with guys. You still fit into it, waist-wise. Ass-wise.... not so much. You filled out over the years. 

"It's cold."

Yoongi hummed knowingly. His hands worked up your thighs, spreading them out. Pushed down your black thigh-high socks so he could knead more of them. 

"You still wore it though."

Well, yeah. You weren't trying to pick up random guys anymore. Only Min Yoongi. Every time, at these loud ass house parties with too many drunk people and too loud bass. It was a mess. Someone was attempting to chug a whole barrel of beer and ended up vomiting in the grass. 

Disgusting. 

"Why do you go to these things?" you muttered as Yoongi lifted one of your legs, tucking it beside him so he could stare at your clothed pussy. Red, seamless, cheeky. Not a thong. He clicked his tongue in disappointment, but you ignored him. 

"Free alcohol."

"Really?" you snorted, backing up a little as his hand neared. "I could just buy whiskey and bring it to you if you want free alcohol that bad."

Yoongi smirked, licking his pink lips. Wet, glistening. You wanted them on your clit right now. His fingers dipped down, stroking the smooth red fabric lightly. Too lightly. Teasing you. You twisted the urge to raise your hips for more pressure. 

"Where's the fun in that?"

You raised an eyebrow. 

Yoongi pressed down, fingertips shoving the fabric into you, soaking it instantly. You sucked in a breath, staring into his dark, cat-like eyes.

"Why do that when I can make you jealous by going to these parties and having you wonder if I've kissed someone else, touched someone else, fucked someone else?"

He rubbed your clit through the fabric and you gritted your teeth, moving your hand down, but Yoongi was faster, slapping it away. Rubbed harder, a low moan leaving your throat. You didn't want to reach up with your other hand because you might lose balance and hit your steering wheel and accidentally honk your horn. That would be a disaster. 

Yeah.

Of course, that’s why you weren’t stopping him now.

"I don't care what you do, Yoongi," you panted, glaring at him. 

Different house, different party, same car, the correct scene this time, with the right guy in your car, getting you off through your panties. 

Why don't you have a boyfriend?

That was Yoongi's first question when he slid into your car this night. Looking fine as hell with his black-and-white flannel, gray t-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers. Straight black hair covering his eyes, a clean undercut when he pushed it back to smirk at you. 

Yoongi curled his finger, now grinding your clit with his knuckle. Oh, fuck. Your juices leaked into your panties, darkening the wet spot and filling the car with your scent. Close.

"You don't care, hm?" Yoongi mused in a tone implying that he knew you cared. Very much. After all, what happened last time… You don't slap bitches across the face for no good reason. 

"She was making out with someone who couldn't consent from my point of view."

There was a dark sparkle of mischief in Yoongi's eyes. 

"Who was? I wasn't referring to anything in particular."

Shit. 

Your face heated and you grinded into his hand, breathing hard, not caring anymore. Whatever. Who cares what Min Yoongi thought? You were going to get off and whether he was there or not didn't fucking matter. Yoongi pressed his knuckle into you, dark hair shadowing his eyes, soft exhales as he watched you near your peak. 

"Cum for me," Yoongi breathed, raspy and deep. "Right here, in front of this party, in your panties, and on my hand."

He could make you do anything. 

You bit your lip and pressed the back of your head into the car window, shutting your eyes, letting the whines out. Pleasure warming you, tendrils of heat crawling up your torso from Yoongi's hand, your soft voice telling him he was so good and he was purring your name, drawing it out, so sexy in his husky tone saturated with lust. 

"A-ah, Yoongi..."

Your back arched and your breathing hiked, onto the edge and then falling, falling, Yoongi's knuckle suddenly slicker, your hips rocking and shivering, whimpering as the pleasure shocked your heart, beating so fast and hard that you felt your pulse in your throat. You heard Yoongi snicker, spreading his fingers out, pressing them to your wet panties, shoving them into your folds, rubbing soothingly.

"I like this most," came his smokey whisper behind your closed lids. "I always have the most fun with you."

You're such a bad boy, Min Yoongi. 

You breathed out in long, smooth breaths, trying to calm your speeding heartbeat. Yoongi's hand still on your crotch, the other on your thigh, squeezing it.

"Noona, open the door."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You sucked on your tongue and opened your eyes. A clear voice with silvery depth. It had come from behind your head. You made eye contact with Yoongi. 

He looked thoroughly amused. 

You turned your head partway to see your side mirror. Yup. Ash blond hair, dark eyes, black tattoos as his right hand tapped your car window, tan skin, sharp jawline. White turtleneck, white denim jacket over it. Black jeans.

The wrong guy. Jeon Jungkook. 

You heard your car doors click and, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi press the button to unlock them. Hmph. Jungkook moved from the front seat to open the backseat. Climbed in like he owned the damn place. He also smelled like alcohol, but all kinds, unlike Yoongi's whiskey scent. 

"Hey, hyung."

"Hello, Jungkook."

You didn't look at him. 

"Hey, noona."

"Get out of my car," you spat.

"Should I get out of the car, hyung?"

"No. She doesn't mean it."

You glared daggers at Yoongi, who smirked widely. Your legs were spread open in Yoongi's lap, your hoodie was off, there was a giant wet spot between your thighs, your skirt was far too short to cover anything, and your red hair was in disarray, fucked up by Yoongi's insistence. Your eyes flickered to Jungkook, who looked back at you. You thought he would be gazing at your body, but he wasn't. He was staring at your face. 

Somehow, that was worse.

Your neck heated and you looked away from those brown eyes, to the house. Jungkook's female harem was at the porch, gaggling at your car. Seven of them. Why was there seven? That's a random number, you thought. They were beginning to recognize your car. Hmph. Well, you can have him, just leave me and Yoongi alo–

You gasped as Jungkook pulled the lever of your seat, dumping you to the back of the car, scooping his arm around your shoulders, grabbing your head and kissing you hard, tasting like alcohol and smelling like laundry and the sea. You moaned into his mouth as Yoongi slipped under your panties and shoved two fingers into you, grunting at your tightness. Jungkook's soft tongue slid into your lips, your name mumbled onto your tongue, rubbing it as Yoongi fingered you. Too much simulation at once. Jungkook's free hand pushed up your bra, exposing one of your breasts and pinching your nipple. You whined, hips bucking into Yoongi's hand, too much, it was too much, Jungkook’s rough kisses and Yoongi's long fingers, and you felt the wet squelch as it all spilled out, gushing down Yoongi's hand, chest heaving in Jungkook's arms, moaning your release into the younger man's mouth. 

Jungkook broke the kiss, scrambling down as Yoongi removed his fingers. Yoongi brought them to his face and swirled his tongue around his digits. He hummed approvingly around his fingers as you whined, feeling Jungkook's hot tongue lap up the rest, licking at your swollen clit, sensitive from Yoongi's prior work.

"Don't put your dirty tongue on me after you've ate out other girls all night," you gritted out, hand reaching down to grip Jungkook's blond hair. Not pulling him away, but not pushing him in either. 

"I didn't eat anyone out," Jungkook murmured into your pussy, vibrating the slick lips with his low voice. "Hyung told me you were picking him up and that you would pick me up too."

You said no such thing. You gave Yoongi a peeved look and Yoongi just smirked around his wet fingers, smearing your juices over his lips and licking them off. You shivered and pushed Jungkook's head into your pussy, gasping as he shoved his tongue into your hole. 

The girls outside seemed to realize what was going on. They were pointing accusingly and yapping amongst themselves. Your tits were half out, after all. 

"Great, now everyone thinks I'm a slut, Yoongi," you grumbled.

"Who cares?" Yoongi said dismissively. "Anyone who talks shit is going to answer to my fist."

Jungkook lifted his head, panting for breath, chin shiny with your pussy. He didn't look outside. He simply curved his arm around Yoongi's head and flipped off anyone looking in the car. You raised your eyebrows. Thank the American culture for making the middle finger the universal 'fuck you' so that even Koreans knew what it meant. Yoongi seemed to know what Jungkook was doing and laughed huskily as Jungkook backed up, slumping in the backseat. 

"Am I supposed to drive like this?" you hissed, shoving your exposed breast back into your bra and snapping your panties into place before lowering your leg. Ugh, your underwear was soaked. You had pulled your foot out of your boot before Yoongi started pretzeling you in the driver's seat of your own damn car. You shoved your foot back into it now, fixing yourself up. Yoongi plucked the black hoodie from the driver’s seat. 

"Technically, this isn't yours."

"I thought it looked familiar," Jungkook remarked, wiping his chin and then licking off the back of his hand.

You righted your seat, rolling your eyes. 

"Whatever," you mumbled as you started your car. 

-

“Why did you make me do it?” you had asked him.

Yoongi’s lips trailed along your bare shoulder, pulling down his blanket to leave his marks on you.

“Do what?” he had murmured against your skin, making you shiver.

“The whole ‘taking-Jeon-Jungkook’s-virginity’ thing.’”

He traced your shoulder blade with his tongue. “Did I read the situation wrong?” Completely neutral, his hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair. You melted into the action, one of your favorites. It made your skin tingle and your breathing soften, releasing the tenseness in your chest. “You always tell me if I’m wrong.”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Did you hate it?”

“… No.”

Yoongi turned you around to face him, his black hair brushing against your cheeks. Eyes barely open, but seeing all of you. He collected your hair in his fingers, pushing it back and away from your neck. His lips swollen from your kisses; his fair skin nicked with pink from your bites.

“That’s good.”

His finger drew the line of your collarbone, dark orbs watching your lips part, wanting him. Pulling yourself closer to him, skin to skin, his warmth against yours. You leaned in. Yoongi didn’t move away, his breath against your lips.

“What are we?” you whispered.

“Don’t know.” His lips grazed against yours and your moaned softly into them. “Whatever you want.” Dainty, simple kisses. “We’re whatever you want. You know that.” Capturing your lips, trapping them, fingers dancing down, looping around your waist and pulling you close, chest to chest. “You want it to stay like this, it will stay like this.” Grinding against your thigh, hardening against your softness. “You want me to keep driving you crazy, you want me to keep letting Jungkook play with you, then it’ll happen.”

Deep, intense kisses, teasing you, making you addicted to him.

“You want me to go away and leave you alone, I will.”

Your arm came around and you tangled your fingers in his black hair, kissing him fiercely.

“No, don’t leave me alone,” you breathed. “Want this. Want you.”

He purred your name against your lips, flitting his tongue between them.

“Want you, Yoongi.”

-

Everyone said the same thing.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy. Min Yoongi is a playboy. Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything. He’s just a guy who makes pretty good music, but think twice before trying to get close to him. He’s had the same friends for years and any new ones were superficial acquaintances.

You didn’t care about any of that. You weren’t really hanging out with him anyway. He was just always there when you were kind-of, sort-of dating Kim Namjoon. And it was a kind-of, sort-of because you kept it that way. Namjoon kept asking you to take it further, but you held him at a distance, saying it was too early and that you were careful with your heart.

Then It was the little things. Accidents.

A brush. A graze. A single fingertip.

Yoongi’s eyes on yours. Watching you. Challenging. It didn’t mean anything, until it did. It didn’t mean anything, until the touches got bolder, the moments got longer, and then you were in the bathroom hallway of some random club, face-to-face with Min Yoongi, and he was close, so close, but not touching you. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you and you knew, shit this whole thing with Namjoon is not it, because no matter how good riding Kim Namjoon’s dick was, it was not Min Yoongi’s stare that was instantly making your pussy throb.

His long fingers danced in the air. Tracing the curve of your jaw, but not touching you. Whiskey on his breath, but not breathing on you. Cocking his eyebrow at you, at you. His palm turned upwards, two fingers outstretched and, if you leaned forward, you could place you chin on them.

But you didn’t.

“Are you wet?” Yoongi whispered huskily, barely heard over the loud bass.

You blinked slowly. “Are you hard?”

His lips curved into a devious smirk.

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“Yes.”

Someone was vomiting real fucking loudly in the men’s bathroom.

Yoongi dropped his hand and took a step back. Let his eyes linger on you as he backed up and walked away, rounding the corner.

You broke up that thing with Namjoon that night. It wasn’t fair to him and he wasn’t in that deep yet, so he was chill with it. Understanding. He wasn’t getting the vibes from you either. You didn’t even know if you had vibes.

You didn’t throw yourself into Min Yoongi’s arms. That would be rude and, besides, it wasn’t like you knew him that well. But Namjoon still invited you to things, concerts and stuff, because he was a nice guy and, even if you guys weren’t dating, he was still friendly. And you went, even if you didn’t really like people. Just in case.

The first couple times, Yoongi wasn’t there.

And then he was.

And then it started again, but bolder this time, crazier things, short skirts and exploring hands, no talking, no chats, only eyes and touches, until it wasn’t, his hands curling into your shirt, shoving you against the wall and kissing you and you kissing him back, fingers slipping under his leather jacket and pushing up his shirt, nails on his skin.

His raspy voice against your puffy lips.

“Let’s have some fun.”

Always going to these damn parties, always asking you to take him home so he could take you down, gasping your name into your ear, telling you the same thing.

“I always have the most fun with you.”

Asking you how you wanted it today, from the back, from the front, against the wall, saying he’ll do anything to get you off. You want his tongue? His fingers? His dick? He would give it to you. Spread your legs open on his kitchen counter and eat you out like you were his fucking groceries.

Always reminding you.

“The best sex is still you.”

You would still go to the events Namjoon invited you to, his underground concerts, and watch Yoongi open for him every once in a while, growling into the mic and glaring at the audience, until he found you, lips curving into his trademark open-mouthed smirk that would be in between your legs later that night.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy.

Min Yoongi is a playboy.

Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything.

So what?

You can feel however you want.

You can live however you want.

No reason to take anything seriously.

Whatever, right?

-

“Give me the fucking hoodie.”

“Nah, you can borrow Jungkook’s jacket.”

“Except you can’t button it, noona.”

You sucked in an annoyed breath. “Fine, give me the fucking jacket.”

Min Yoongi smirked, watching Jeon Jungkook strip his denim jacket and hand it to you. You put it on, scowling. “You act like it’s acid,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I’m burning,” you snapped sarcastically. “Absolutely dying being covered in Jeon Jungkook.”

“You want to be covered in Jeon Jungkook’s cum, that’s for sure.”

You took too long to respond to Yoongi’s quip. Jungkook smirked, placing his forearms on the headrest of your seat, craning his head around to look at your face. You turned away, feeling your neck and ears pulse. His ash blond hair drifted down, shading one of his brown eyes.

“Yeah, noona? Is that what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“Shut up.”

You twisted away and got out of your car, followed by the two men. Didn’t look at either of them. It was a cold night, but your body was hot. It wasn’t covered enough. You felt an arm curve around your waist, tattoos on a tan hand. A sharp chin balancing on your red hair.

“Need your help, noona. I’m kind of drunk.”

“Let me call the Grim Reaper.”

A fair hand sliding under the denim jacket, making you hiss with the cold touch.

“You chilly?” Yoongi teased. “Need cuddles?”

You didn’t say anything. He could feel how hot your skin was, saw your ears were fucking scorching with embarrassment with how short your plaid skirt was. You locked your car, ignoring them.

“It’s only three flights of stairs,” Jungkook murmured, probably staring at your ass.

Whatever, right?

-

“Need my jacket back, noona.”

“Where’s the hoodie?” you grumbled to Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged. “Left it in your car.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking typical. I’ll go get–”

Yoongi shoved you into Jungkook’s apartment.

-

“He just wants another taste.”

Warm lips on your neck, large fair-skinned hands circled with black-and-white checked flannel dancing up your bare chest, bra already gone. Jungkook already on his knees, looking up at you, licking his lips. Still in his white turtleneck and jeans.

“Look at him. Isn’t he cute? Don’t you want to shove your dripping pussy into those pink lips and grab that blond hair?”

“You’re so bad, Yoongi.”

You lifted up your skirt, so fucking short it was basically useless. You ticked your chin to your panties, damp from earlier in the car. “Help me take them off, Jungkook.”

Jungkook licked his lips again, letting his tongue dawdle before sliding it back in.

“You sure, noona?”

“Yeah.” Sucked in a breath as Yoongi teased your nipples, too familiar of a scene. “Want your mouth, please.” Rubbed them in between his fingertips and you moaned, leaning into Yoongi’s touch. “Please, Jungkook, wanna cum in your mouth.”

The side of Jungkook’s lips cocked upwards. “Of course, noona.” Reached up and hooked his fingers on the sides, pulling them down your thighs, mouth watering as he witnessed your wetness. Leaned forward and buried his nose into it, inhaling deeply, shuddering. “Smells so fucking good.”

Yoongi’s fingers leaving your breasts, running through your red hair, the hair you dyed because he causally said you should dye it red. He got it out of you eventually, both hands in your hair as he fucked you into his bed, balls slapping into you with his force, breathing in your face.

“Your hair is so fucking sexy,” he had panted. “You dyed it red because I said you should, didn’t you?”

“No.”

He stopped suddenly, leaving you full, but unstimulated, bent in half under him. You tried to move, but Yoongi’s grip in your hair had tightened, breathing hard against your lips.

“You’re no liar,” he had whispered.

“Move.”

“Tell the truth.”

Gentle kiss. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, needing more.

“Tell the truth,” he had commanded.

“Yes, fuck, Yoongi, yes, now fucking give it to me.”

He began to fuck you again, hard and satisfying and everything you wanted. The best fucking dick you’ve ever had, made you cum twice before him, made you gasp his name and clutch his sheets, just like how you grabbed his shirt and gasped his name right now, leaning back against him as Yoongi’s head curved around your body, attaching his lips to your nipple as Jungkook’s tongue dipped into your drenched pussy, his moan vibrating your core as Yoongi sucked, playing with your other nipple with his hand. Standing in Jungkook’s bedroom, two mouths on you. Jungkook took one of your legs and put it on his shoulder, noisily and messily eating you out, Yoongi’s whiskey breath now all over your tits.

You could have been mad, but you were too horny to be angry, too busy humping Jungkook’s face and arching your back to get more into Yoongi’s hot mouth. One hand in Yoongi’s black hair and the other in Jungkook’s blond hair, gripping them both tight, losing yourself in the pleasure, head tipped back and tongue sliding out, impossible to catch your breath. Jungkook’s tongue lapped at your clit, closing in on it, adding more force, and you whimpered, legs shaking.

“Jungkook, a-ah, fuck…”

Skirt bunched around your waist, far too short to even blanket Jungkook’s face, giving you a clear view of his intense brown eyes, one hand on your thigh and the other wrapped around your ass, shoving your hips into his face.

Yoongi flicked your hard nipple with his tongue and pinched the other. You moaned, shivers up your spine, suddenly tipping into your orgasm and spilling it all into Jungkook’s mouth, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips, rolling your body into his face, hearing him chuckle in that deep voice of his. Jungkook slurped greedily, lapping at your pussy as Yoongi released your nipple and came up, murmuring your name, feathery kisses on your lips.

“So sexy,” he breathed. “So fuckable.”

You moaned into Yoongi’s mouth as your rode Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook got the hint, licking you all over again, your clit throbbing onto his tongue, leaking more and more into his mouth.

“Fuck, noona, you taste so fucking good when you’re horny,” Jungkook growled, his Busan satoori slipping out. “Extra sweet, like candy.”

Yoongi gave you one last kiss as Jungkook lowered your leg, standing up to cup your face and kiss you, smearing your juices on your face and licking them off, a fucking mess, your own sweet-sour taste spreading everywhere. You shuddered against his lips, one hand still in his hair, the other letting go of Yoongi’s black locks and clutching Jungkook’s turtleneck as he kissed you.

“Leave the skirt on, noona,” Jungkook mumbled. “You look so cute in it. Cute little slut.”

Body so hot, so fucking hot that it felt like your skin was on fire.

“… Fine.”

Jungkook’s hands sliding back, burying in your dark red shadow root, light kisses on your cheeks. “Just playing around, noona. I know you’re not a slut.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jungkook chuckled and grabbed your ass, grinding his crotch into yours. “You do like playing with me, don’t you?” He was so fucking hard, even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

“Mhm.” You swallowed your moan, gripping Jungkook tighter. “Don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me though.”

“I told you,” Jungkook purred, nudging you towards his bed, getting you to climb onto it, those familiar navy sheets, so soft against your skin. They smelled just like Jungkook, fresh laundry with a hint of the sea. “Sex dreams with you are too good. I need the real thing.”

He dumped you on his bed, leaning down, kissing you once more.

“I wanna see you doing the stuff you do in my dreams.”

-

“You look cold.”

You shivered. “I’m not.”

Yoongi pulled off his black hoodie and held it out to you.

You puffed out hot air. “I don’t need it.”

His voice low and husky. “Smells like me.”

You bit you lip and took it from him, slipping it over your shoulders. Smelled so fucking good, just like Yoongi with a hint of whiskey. You snuck a glance at him in your passenger’s seat. He was leaning back in the chair, sighing softly, black hair all over his closed eyes. You saw the dark circles. His face seemed paler than usual. You started the car.

“Need to drop by the pharmacy.”

“Any chain in particular?” you replied absentmindedly.

Yoongi waved a hand. “Just need hangover meds and water.”

You tapped the water bottle in your cupholder. “There’s some left.”

You kept your eyes on the road as he reached over and drank from it. You heard it being drained. You drove steadily, thinking of the closest pharmacy. Stopped at a red light, thinking you needed to turn left at the next one.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Mhm.”

Silence with your steady driving, ever so slightly going over the speed limit. Not enough to get caught. Just on the edge. Gliding in the darkness, surrounded by yellow headlights and red backlights. You pulled into a parking lot, right in front of the pharmacy.

“Be a sec.”

Yoongi hauled himself out of the seat, wearing only his over-sized white t-shirt and distressed blue jeans. Was it just you or his arms a little skinner than before? The silver bracelets seemed looser on his wrists.

“Want your–?”

The car door shut.

“Hoodie,” you finished, speaking to no one. You watched Yoongi stagger to the door, pulling a black face mask out and covering his face before entering. You had a brief, fleeting moment where you thought, I should have gone with him, but you frowned. Yoongi was an adult. He didn’t need you.

He didn’t need you.

You rested your arms on your steering wheel and waited. Waited. You were good at waiting. Was it still waiting if that your default state, just breezing through life, wondering if there was any meaning in it all, wondering if anything meant anything? You made a face. Why were you having an existential crisis right now? Stupid. If nothing mattered, why bother agonizing over it?

Whatever.

The car door opened and Yoongi slid in, tugging off his face mask and holding a plastic bag.

“Here.”

You jumped as Yoongi threw a small plastic packet in your lap. Gummy bears.

“You like these, right?”

You blinked at them. “Yeah… I guess.” You did like gummy bears. Why did he get gummy bears?

“That’s good.”

That was that. Yoongi cracked open a water bottle. You waited as he scowled, dumping powder into the water and shaking it up. He squinted at the directions and then resumed shaking the water bottle, turning the water a cloudy white. He reopened the bottle and took a large swig, shuddering as he removed it from his lips. He didn’t look pleased, but he accepted it.

“What are you trying to forget?”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, tilting your head at him. “I mean, you go out drinking a lot. That’s what alcoholics do.”

Yoongi snorted. “I’m never drunk.”

“What’s with the hangover meds, then?” you pointed out.

His eyes slid to you. They seemed extra dark even in the bright streetlights.

“I don’t want a headache in the morning,” he muttered. “Or a limp dick.”

You chuckled. “I can just drop you off and go home.” You reached over and started the car. He seemed tired and stressed. You figured you could let him sleep. Wasn’t like you picked him up only because you wanted a quick fuck.

He tapped the water bottle against your forearm as you started turning out of the parking lot. You spared him a glance, raising your eyebrows.

“Wanna see your face in the morning,” he said casually, taking another sip. You could barely see his eyes with his black bangs covering them. “And hear you begging for my dick to fuck you harder.”

You rolled your eyes and drove him to his apartment.

You stayed that night.

-

“Jungkook, your dreams are freaky as fuck,” Yoongi cackled, hoisting your hips up as you whined, back arched and wrists tied by Jungkook’s belt looped a few times around them and buckled closed.

Jungkook asked you to keep the skirt on. He asked you to move your arms back and stick your chest out, breasts pushed together by your upper arms, nipples sticking straight out. He asked you to press your forearms together and not move them, hands clasped together as he jacked off in front of you.

Sure, whatever.

He also asked Yoongi to rail you from behind while he was doing it, and asked his hyung to make your tits bounce.

And Yoongi told him he was freaky as fuck as he slid into you, using one of Jungkook’s condoms, mentioning that Jungkook should buy a different brand because they were thinner and better quality.

“Okay, hyung, I’ll make sure to have them next time.”

Next time, okay, yeah, sure Jungkook, it’s not like you’re the one on Yoongi’s dick, you thought wryly as Yoongi began to move, slow but hard, your breasts bouncing at the action, gasp torn from your throat.

“Why do you even have condoms?” you muttered between pants, rocking on Yoongi’s hips as he lifted you and dropped you on his hard cock, ugh, so fucking good, felt so good as Yoongi fucked you and you watched Jungkook’s right hand wrapped around his stiff length, the red head disappearing and reappearing in his tattooed fingers, his chest rippling and his lower lip in his teeth, tiny mole dancing underneath it, eyes on your bouncing tits, moaning as he watched the obscenity in front of him.

Felt good to be watched and tied up, kneeling on Jungkook’s bed, because it was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it felt so fucking good.

“In case you want to fuck me,” Jungkook gasped. “Unless you want my babies.”

You huffed. “I do not.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirk on his lips with his lip bite. “There you go.” He scooted closer and you ticked an eyebrow, feeling Yoongi’s fingertips dig into you as he smacked his crotch into your ass. You moaned, Yoongi’s name dropping from your lips.

“You always look so fucking hot when you’re getting fucked.”

You chuckled. “This is only the second time you’ve watched me getting fucked.”

Jungkook grinned. “Nope, I’ve seen you get fucked hundreds of times in my dreams.”

You rolled your eyes and the action was cut short as Yoongi shifted and hit your favorite spot, making you cry out and lurch forward, breath in Jungkook’s face, breasts knocking together. Your hands touched the bed, squeezing your tits, gasping for breath.

“Don’t fall over, naughty girl,” Yoongi purred. “Give Jungkookie the best view.”

You lifted your head back, balancing on your fingertips, mouth open, tongue touching your lip, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook’s blond hair covered one of his brown eyes, jaw clenched and he stroked himself faster, veins popping out on his hardness, pre-cum leaking from the tip and running down.

“Wanna cum on your face and tits, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “Wanna cover you with me.”

“Where are your manners, Jungkook?” Yoongi barked behind you, the smacking between you two radiating off the walls, squeaking the bed, and probably wholeheartedly disturbing his neighbors.

Jungkook sank his teeth in his lip, suddenly apologetic. You were about to blurt out that you didn’t give a shit, but Jungkook spoke, breathless with a hint of neediness, staring into your eyes with his brown doe-like ones, and suddenly you couldn’t say anything, repeatedly jerked forward by Yoongi’s forceful thrusts, frozen by Jungkook’s whisper.

“Please, noona… Please let me cum on your tits. On your face. Please let me see you with my cum all over you.”

Once again, you were reminded that Jungkook actually liked you.

“… O-Okay, Jungkook,” you gasped. “A-Anything you want.”

You arched your back even more, tipping your head up, breathing hard. Jungkook had to stand on the bed, his thin moans indicating he was nearing his end and you stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you felt him fill you over and over, his long fingers bruising your hips, Yoongi’s rough, raspy drawl of you name, deepened by his Daegu satoori.

“Such a sexy woman, so eager to get a faceful of cum, aren’t you?”

You whined, lust building inside you, staring into Jungkook’s glazed-over brown eyes and his thick, dark red cock ready to burst. Yoongi’s voice could make you do anything. He really could. And you wanted him to. You wanted him to make you do anything he wanted, everything he wanted. Your voice was soaked with lust, eyes half-lidded, lips wetly parted.

“Y-Yes, Yoongi… I want Jungkook’s cum all over me…”

Jungkook’s shaking left hand touched your forehead, gently holding you in place, ash blond strands brushing against his high cheekbones as he whispered your name, heavy with his Busan satoori.

“You’re so good to me, noona.”

He moaned your name again and came with hot white strings, splattering down your cheeks and neck, some of it hitting your lips and tongue, spilling onto your bouncing breasts, coating them with his salty orgasm. You moaned back, eyes rolling back as you hit your peak, painted in Jungkook’s cum, so hot, so sticky on your skin, and you tightened around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you came, suddenly so wet like a waterfall, slick and viscous, reminding you of the first time that you came on this bed with Yoongi’s tongue on top of Jungkook’s sleeping body, but this time Jungkook was shoving the sensitive head in between your open lips, groaning as you licked off the dripping cum, some of it dribbling into your throat.

Yoongi hissed your name, and you whimpered as his cock twitched inside you, fully sheathing himself in your burning heat before spilling into the condom, his jerking length being roughly massaged by your tight walls. Jungkook’s cum was running down your chest, clinging to your nipples, dripping onto his sheets. Jungkook pulled out of your mouth and your tongue extended, licking at the leftover cum on the outskirts of your lips before you yelped abruptly.

“A-ah, Jungkook!”

Jungkook’s hands cupped your breasts, pushing them together and running his hot tongue over your breasts, sucking off his orgasm, lapping at your nipples, making you shudder and squirm, wiggling on Yoongi’s cock and pussy throbbing with every lick.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi groaned, obviously witnessing Jungkook’s slurping of his cum off your tits and neck, and feeling you moan and buck on his slowly softening cock. “You’re wild, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice or care, kissing up your throat, tongue flicking against your cheeks, breath hot on your face, saturated with the salty scent of his cum. His palms on your trembling jaw, pulling you down to his lips, kissing you deeply, your moan in his mouth.

“You feel good, noona?” Jungkook whispered huskily against your lips.

“Y-Yeah…”

Your heart was rattling against your ribcage, still shattered from your orgasm and the dirtiness of Jungkook’s actions. So hard to come down, trapped on cloud nine, struggling for breath. Jungkook pressed his sweaty forehead into yours, fingers sliding back to run them through your red strands, your skin tingling at his touch. His blond hair stuck to your face, his brown eyes closing.

“Don’t worry,” he breathed softly against your quivering breath. “I’m here with you.”

-

You opened your eyes, slowly.

Groggily.

Navy sheets, so soft against your bare skin. Hand splayed over your breasts, covering them, holding you close to a hard, muscular chest. Your eyes flickered down, trying to blink the sleep away. Black tattoos on tan skin. You shifted your eyes forward. Mop of black hair, messily covering what you knew were dark, cat-like eyes. Pale chest, completely bare. Your hand was around his slim waist, fingertips on his back.

Don’t you want to be bad with me?

You retreated your hand. Those dark eyes opened, just a crack.

Watching you.

Your hand reached up, tracing his jaw. Palm up. Placed two fingers on his chin, caressing it.

His name, his name, perfectly formed by your lips, your addiction, the feeling you couldn’t give up.

“Yoongi.”

His pink lips curved into a devious smirk. His hand closed around yours, fingers intertwining.

Spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

Held your hand as you closed your eyes once again, nestled in Jungkook’s arms.

-

fourth act. lucid dreams a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

[kashimos-hajime]

the shakes | p.d.

summary: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+), oral (fem!receiving) and just a whole lot of banter, bruh poe is just feastin TONIGHT, sprinkle of plot pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader word count: 5.1k

a/n: uhhh so,,, heh,,, enjoy. bc smut. 

“Ow, fuck.”

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

“My bad. It’s not like we’re stuck in a fucking closet.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Yours.”

You breathe out through your nose, struggling to contain your annoyance as you try to back up away from man but no dice. Instead, your back jams awkwardly against the busted control panel.

Said control panel is one of the reasons why you’re stuck in a closet with a man you met only twenty minutes before. Other reasons may or may not include you, the man mentioned, and a certain droid both of you are supposedly waiting on.

“You said that droid is coming?” you grunt as he lets out a heavy sigh against your collarbone. You’ve been squished in a four by four foot supply closet for the past twenty minutes at least and there’s barely enough room as he reaches around to jam the button again. “That’s not going to work,” you say pointedly and he scowls at you, pressing the button again.

“BB-8’s coming,” he growls. “He’ll know I’m missing.”

“Oh, thank the Maker for that!”

“Do you have a problem?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re breathing in my air, in my general vicinity.” A pause, and then: “Can you breathe in any other direction?”

In response, he sucks in a huge breath and lets it out in one big exhale towards the vent above them before glancing down again and arching a brow as if to say, Happy now?

You are most certainly not.

“At least this gives us a moment to breathe. It’s better than being arrested,” he says as if offering a ceasefire. The man leans away from you and you sigh, readjusting the strap of your short dress. His eyes are determinedly staying on yours but even you know they’ve dipped the few times your back was turned. “We can get to know each other.”

Not that you haven’t been thinking about his ass all day either. You spotted him earlier in the markets today, even if he hadn’t noticed you, with that orange and white droid rolling around behind him. Cute and memorable.

What can you say? A good looking guy tends to stick out in a crowd.

“I think I’d rather be arrested,” you say as you lean against your own wall and tug at your dress where you think it doesn’t fit too well. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“You mean, you don’t lock lips with any random handsome stranger?” he fires back. “I’m hurt.”

“Right. You know what I meant.” You nod to the chip in his pocket. “What do you wanna do with that?”

“Top secret, Snatch.”

“Snatch?” you repeat, frowning. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s a secret you can share with me.” At this, you push off the wall and, by the limitations of the closet, stand in his space. Dameron straightens up, an unimpressed smirk printed on his face. “So?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It could be.”

“It really couldn’t.” His nose brushes against yours and his soft breath tickling at your lips makes a hot spear shoot into your gut. You can taste the sunfruit on his breath, the sweet swipe of his tongue across his lips and your eyes narrow as his chest presses against yours. You don’t budge from your spot as a curl of his dark hair falls into his eyes. Almost automatically and before you can register what you’re doing, you reach up to brush it back and he catches your wrist before you can, grin growing. “I knew I recognized you.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you reply dryly. You shake his hand free from your wrist and back up against the wall, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen you in the markets a few times. The only eye-candy way out here,” you admit grudgingly, thinking of the weird fantasies you had about the guy you dubbed ‘The Man from the Market.’

Not your most graceful or catchy nickname, or your most dignified moment, waking up to soaked panties and a flustered sensation glossing over your skin, but you also didn’t expect to see him again. At this party, no less, of some merc bastard and his friends.

“Likewise,” he says, eyes dropping from yours to your lips and then darting up again. He chews on his lip, as if fighting back that cocky smile before he adds, “You’re the only thing that’s caught my eye in the past two days.”

“Charming.”

“Hm. Poe Dameron.”

You glance at the unopened door, sighing out a, “Good for you,” as you cross your legs at your ankles. Dameron only frowns, turning to the door and you observe the darkness around you. You can’t really make out anything but the solid shape of your fellow closet companion. You can’t even make out his features too well unless he’s extremely close to you, and even then, it’s a guesstimate.

You’re going to kill Yvonna. If she wants the intel, she’s going to have to pay you double the credits.

The darkness seems to crowd in on you and you take a deep breath, the heat of the room getting to you. You feel sweat gather underneath your arms, in the creases of your thighs, and maybe it’s the alcohol getting to you, but you swear your feet aren’t attached anymore. They’ve been strapped to some stupidly high heels to accentuate your legs and it's gathered in a trembling pain in your calves now that you’ve a moment to stop moving. You want to keep moving. It’s the dancing in your stomach, the strange flutter in your lungs, the involuntary clenching between your legs.

Normally, you’d be fine but right now…

God, it might’ve been something you ate. You don’t know, but right now, you feel like you’re a hollowed out piece of scrap.

“C’mon, BB-8,” Dameron murmurs as you let your head drop back against the wall. Your eyes slip shut and it’s not too different from the darkness surrounding.

Maybe it’s cause you haven’t seen Krieg in a moment which is part of the reason you’re here. Hasn’t given you a chance to take the edge off and you’re so full of this energy that needs to be spent or you’re going to die in this closet, in that ship…

You needed to do something.

Your eyes open and see the shape of Dameron’s head.

Or, someone.

Yes, you had kissed him first, pushed him into this closet, let his hands wander, but that was because a guard was coming and you weren’t about to get caught red-handed.

This fucking sucks.

“My friends call me Y/N,” you say glumly, your fingers gingerly tugging at the hem of your skirt. An uncomfortable slickening is occurring down there just thinking about that kiss that occurred in a time when you weren’t stuck in a closet, and you can’t help but think that Dameron was a good kisser.

Give credit where credit is due, all that bullshit.

“Y/N, huh?”

“I said my friends,” you reply pointedly. “Associates and otherwise know me by my callsign.”

“Which is?”

“Bandit.”

“How original,” he mutters almost under his breath and you roll your eyes. The burning in your gut spreads like a fan of fire, following where your knuckles press against your thighs as you try to adjust your dress to fit comfortably, but it’s too damn hot and you shift again, catching his attention. “You okay? Not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“No. It’s just… it’s just hot in here,” you mumble with a scowl directed at your own body betraying the way his arm bracketing you on one side of your head is radiating a heat you want to choke on. “When did it get so hot?”

“When they started serving spiced whiskey?” he tries and, this time, your scowl is directed at him with another poison to kill a small snake. “Maybe you’re having the Shakes.”

“The…” You blink, and you’re not sure if your eyes are adjusting to the blinding darkness or if you can actually see him clear as day when he bends his arm and leans against the wall by his elbow. You don’t move away and his breath, searing, tingles at your sweating neck. The drawling exhales only serve to send more thigh-clenching spasms into your stomach and you shoot him a weak glare. “The what now?”

“The Shakes,” he repeats as if he’s totally unaware of what he’s doing to your body. Maker, he must be able to smell it. There’s no way he can’t because you can feel just the effect of him being so close to you has done and— “You know.”

“I, uh, I really don’t.” If he knew a fraction of what his voice did to your panties, he would not be talking right now. Or he’d be talking more. You don’t know which one you want more.

“Oh, you know, when you haven’t had sex in a long time. I call it the Shakes. Every little thing sets you off, you get cranky and flustered, you’re all wired up and your gut feels like the first time you go into hyperspace.” He sighs, and you hear the quiet thump of his head resting against the wall. Y’know, darling?”

“Hm?” you hum, distracted by the index knuckle running over your cheek.

“It makes you distracted.” You can hear his smirk and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “It’s why I call ‘em the Shakes. Throws everything off, doesn’t it?”

“Stars, you love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

“You know, I see the it often enough that I can recognize any poor soul suffering from a mile away,” he says, ignoring you. “And you’re sick with it, Snatch.” Casually as if he isn’t lazily tracing the shell of your ear with his hand now, he chuckles. You close your eyes as if you’re not critically aware of every desire to pull him into another hard kiss, every little movement of his body from the way he leans to the way his fingers flutter around the curve of your jaw.

You’re a fucking fighter, though. You’re not about to hook up with some random motherfucker in a closet.

Even if the random motherfucker is the hottest thing you’ve seen in who knows how long.

Holy shit, you think your gut might explode with how hard you’re trying to keep it together so you say the first thing you can think of related.

“I didn’t get sick the first time I flew into hyperspace. I didn’t get sick the first time I did an aileron. I, uh, I really don’t get sick when I fly at all,” you say, eyebrows rising skeptically. “Do you?” Confused: “No. I’m a pilot.”

“Oh. And you get the Shakes often, then? Wedged in the seat for hours on end,” you ask conversationally, managing to keep your tone in check. Dameron chuckles at your question, but he pulls back. Your thighs press together and something lurches at his withdrawal, wanting him near again but you silently push those urges down. “If you’re so wise to depart your knowledge with me, that is.”

“You’re a funny girl. Nah, you just get used to it when you’re busy doing other things.”

“Other things?”

“Hm, well, let’s say I have a busy job, and that’s pretty much my whole twenty-four-seven schedule.” He comes close again, close enough that his lips brush against the delicate skin before your ear and shivers shoot down your spine like waves of electricity and you stiffen. You know he hears you suck in your breath, the tiny hitch of your chest and he chuckles again, almost amused.  

“I think… it’s…” Maker, please forgive me for my utterly hedonistic will that has the strength of melted bantha cheese. “Fuck, I think it’s physically impossible to ignore that you’re horny.”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrects, lips whispering over your skin. He tilts his head. “I said you get used to it.”

“Well… n-normally, I’m pretty fucking good at that.” You bite your lip and lift your head to the ceiling, thighs pressing together and straightening up but the sound of your dress dragging against the wall gives you away. “When... people aren’t around.”

“People?” he echoes. “You alright, Snatch?” Fuck him. He is definitely enjoying this.

Well, fuck. Might as well, right?

“The Shakes,” you say in a very steady tone that is betrayed by the absolute ocean swimming between your thighs, “may have found residence here.”

“Hm.”

“That funny to you?” you ask, feeling his smug fucking smirk against your cheek and turning to look at him. His dark eyes glint somehow in the non-existent light. You just know it’s there. A cocky spark.

“Explains why you kiss like I’d melt away between your fingers. It was a good kiss, by the way. You’re a good kisser,” he adds, “but more passionate than I thought you’d go for, considering all we were trying to do was evade the guards and that fact that up until that point, you were trying to pickpocket me.”

“I was trying to get the chip. And I think the pushing into the closet was a good touch,” you defend as he rotates around and cages you against the wall. You stare defiantly back. “He went away, didn’t he?”

“But that just implies something.” His elbows are on either side of your head and he leans in, low enough that you can feel the sound of his voice, his sweet breath against your aching mouth. It’s one thing to admit it but another thing to act on it. Maker, are you really about to—

You know what?

Fuck it. Your panties are ruined, you need this fucking annoying heat out of your system and he’s fucking right about one thing: you’re hornier than a Lucrusian fengrill in heat.

What do you have to lose?

“Why just imply something?” you ask innocently as his lips brush against the corner of your mouth. You sigh in relief when the heat seems to sink, spreads through your body instead, and his shadow brushes against your skin as he moves lower, lips finding your chin, the curve of your jawbone. “Oh, fuck…” you choke out, your hands finding his hair automatically, threading through the dry locks and his name slips out in a breathless moan. “Fuck, Dameron.”

His body jerks at the sound of his name coming from you and your eyes widen when his hips press flush against your thigh. His bulge is hot and hard, the fabric of his pants silky against your bare skin and you let out a soft sound when he nudges your head up. His hands run over the walls, find your shoulders, your waist, tugging at fabric that sticks to your skin before continuing elsewhere, and you’re not even breathing as he licks at the pulse point, the sweat, the alcohol glazing your skin.

“Shit,” he breathes against your neck, teeth running along the vein as his hand sneaks underneath the hem of your dress, skirts around the edge of your panties and it’s the brush across the absolutely soaked spot that does him in, does you in because you know he felt you clench around nothing. “Fuck, I can feel it—”

“Shut up,” you groan, wrenching his head up and smashing your lips against his. He sighs into your mouth, hips grinding against yours as you take a handful of his curls. You yank him back, your lungs seizing for air. Everything tastes like sugar and starfruit as you push him down to his knees, your calves burning. “My feet. Ow. Fuck these heels, honestly.”

“I got ‘em.” His hands immediately find your ankles, running smooth circles into your skin but before you can tell him the strap is on the outer side of your leg, he lifts your foot up. A protest stammers in your throat as he reaches up and presses you against the wall with a large hand flat against your tummy, but he merely smirks against your thigh, letting your knee hang off his broad shoulder. “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.”

“Dameron—”

“Relax,” he drawls as your back meets the wall flush and cold. You grab onto the handle of one of the mechanical drawers, wincing when his hand digs into the sore muscle on its way up to stabilize your thigh just as the other on your stomach travels down. “Got a nice view, don’t you?”

“Would be better,” you grit out, “if I could see.”

“Need me to pull out my glow-in-the-dark condoms for you?”

“Dameron.”

“Kidding. Well, only half. I do have some back on the ship.”

“Dameron.”

“Alright, alright. Next time.”

You can’t even see the silhouette of his face anymore, gone underneath the hem of your dress, but you shake your head anyway, lip caught between your teeth as you feel his hand slide up and down the one calf still planted firmly on the ground.

You take a breath and let your head fall back, your ravaged neck pulsing, your entire world spinning.

It happens all at once. When his grip on the thigh resting on his shoulder tightens, when he lifts your other leg over his shoulder, when he surges forward, his lips finding your soaked panties immediately, teeth nipping lightly at the fabric.

Your entire system shuts down.

He noses up higher and your thighs wrap around his head, ankles hooking. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clutches at your ass really, and your fingers in his hair tighten when the dress begins to ride up higher, revealing more of the gorgeous man between your legs.

Oh, how you wish there was some sort of light in here so you can just—

There’s one shaky breath, then another, and there’s no movement which you’re only painfully aware of and your eyes open—when did you even close them?—as you look down. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wish I could see you, darling,” he breathes, kissing the top of your slit and sending a warm shiver through your gut. “Fuck. The way you’d look when I finally chase the Shakes out of you—I’d ruin you. Ruin you and then some. Eat for days.” And then his teeth return, barely skimming the soft flesh of your navel as they hook on the waistband of your panties and tug, his breath following down your thigh as he works on pulling it down, slowly, luxuriously, his lips soft as they press teasing kisses in the crease of your thighs, land tiny nips to the juncture of your hips. You spasm at every turn, wiggle and squeeze until you’re sure you’re cutting off the circulation in his neck, but he doesn’t give any indication that he cares.

No, he just holds you against the wall, your legs tossed over his shoulders, and grins.

You don’t know how you know.

You just do so you don’t know why you stutter out, “You g-good?” anyway.

“Fucking perfect.”

Maybe it’s so you can hear that voice, low and deep in his chest, between your legs.

He leans forward and his nose bumps into your clit, and, as if on reflex, a warm, strong tongue darts out and licks a solid stripe through your heat. “Fuck, darlin’.”

Definitely so you can hear that voice between your legs.

“You’re heaven, y’know that?” he mumbles but you can’t quite focus, your hands gripping at anything you can—one in his hair, the other on that handle and your back arches when he just goes for it, mouth to clit contact, tongue probing and licking and stroking all at once. “Think ‘m gonna die if you don’t drown me first.”

“W-way to i-inflate a girl’s—fuck…” Your voice goes hoarse midway, as if he sucks it out of you, and you can feel the air in your lungs going with it as your back arches off the steel wall. You can feel his jaw, sharp and strong and warm, flexing against your thighs as he works, tongue velvet, lips teasing and he inhales deeply as your legs tighten around his head.

His fingers dig deeper into your ass and you choke back a pathetic moan when his teeth raze your swollen bud lightly, just enough to tease you and keep you on edge. Everything is cotton. The shadows, his hair, his rough hands that are full of calluses you don’t know the meanings of.

Your nails scratch his scalp, tug him impossibly closer and you’re biting through your lip right now, your moans bundling in your chest as he pushes deeper, pushes you closer against the wall as if he wants more of you but can’t quite reach and you want to just let him continue, let him have his fun because you’re sure he can go down on you for hours but—

You’re only human, and the tide comes so quickly you fucking know for sure two things: Dameron knows what he’s doing and Dameron knows what the fuck the Shakes are.

A slight brush of his tongue at your clit and you’re gone. You’re on that downhill slope that sends a spiral of chain events through your body. Your thighs lock around his head and your fingers tighten as lightning shivers and lances through your limbs, sending your heart up into your throat and pulsing between your legs. Your gut clenches, so desperate to hold on that you can’t even breathe, that the only thing you can stutter out is some bare semblance to his name followed by ramblings of “fuck” slewn with more “close… close… so, so close…”

Your eyes are screwed shut, your mind scrambling to concoct an image—an image that would be reality if the lights were on and you can almost see it. Poe Dameron, with his dark eyes, raven hair, plush lips and a beard that scratches against your skin, on his knees with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands, huge and veined and strong, grabbing at what flesh he can, head gone underneath the hem of your dress and you can only feel what he’s doing—

You don’t even recognize him chuckling until you can feel the vibration of it through your knees, against your leg.

“Darlin’,” he pants, drawing back just enough to breathe and he tilts his chin just enough to press a sloppy, slick kiss against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and he laughs again, entertained at the desperate little whine that comes outta your throat because the image would’ve been just enough if he kept going for a second more, “gotta let me fuckin’ breathe if you want me to stay down here.”

“That’s…” You struggle for words because you’re heaving so hard, so out of breath because you didn’t even know you weren’t breathing for several seconds. “That’s—it’s, oh, shit.” Your thought process is disturbed by another teasing lick at your swollen folds. “Dameron, if you don’t let me just fucking—”

He nips at the juncture between your thigh and your soaking, swollen cunt.

“Watch it.” You retaliate with a sharp tug of his hair and he only laughs again, soothing the bite mark with a few gentle kisses.

“Just keeping you on edge, darling,” he whispers, peeking up from underneath your dress for the first time in what feels like hours. You run your hand blindly down his face and feel the slickness on his chin, swiping it off but his teeth catch your thumb, and then it’s his tongue wrapping around your fingers, too, sending fluttering shivers through your stomach. He licks them dry before he lets go and your hand finds his hair again as he sighs, disappearing between your legs again, and you barely hear it, a nearly indecipherable mumble that sounds more like it’s coming from inside your head that his own mouth, “Anyone ever told you… you taste like heaven?”

“And how would you know?” you gasp, feeling a little giggly yourself as the crest begins to rise, your chin tilted up as his tongue flattens against your slit. He hums to himself, the curve of his jaw brushing against your tender thigh as he pulls back just enough to speak.

“‘Cause I just tasted it, darling. And I know I could just feast on you for days.” Your entire body tenses as he laughs into your cunt, the ripples of it against your sensitive skin shooting through your spine and you’re on that downward spiral again as his smiling mouth attaches to your bud and his tongue dips into you again.

You’re dripping. The sounds are obscene, filthy to the nth degree, and you’re so close that it aches. You want to thrust but you can’t risk toppling the man you’re resting on the shoulders of, but at the same time, you know he’s teasing the ever loving shit out of you with his shallow passes, his fluttering kisses.

Taking his sweet time, indulging in it. You’re pretty sure if he could make do on his promise to eat you out for however long you’d let him, he would, but you’re half-aware of where you are, that the droid is supposedly coming, and having half-a-brain is half-a-brain too much to lose all common sense.

“Dameron,” you whisper, and he pauses, looking up and you wish you could see his face, the face of a man who stopped at the mere utterance of his name that it sends a thrill through your overstimulated system. “Please.”

There are no further words needed.

He works you up to it slowly, until your fingers are clamped so hard and you’re seeing stars despite there being nothing but shadows around you. The only sound is the wet slop of his mouth working against your drenched pussy, your moans and his heavy breathing that fans out across your navel.

It’s when his tongue pushes so much deeper, and curls, that your thighs clamp down around his head and your fingers are gripping so hard you’re not sure you’re going to make it without a few nail cuts in your palms that you know the Shakes are gone.

Your entire world flips as your vision goes black. Your fingers curl tighter, your thighs begin to quiver, and everything snaps inside you. Your back arches off the wall and you feel like you scream but it’s because your voice is so utterly broken that it seems so as he continues to drink through the floods, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as possible and the euphoria that shoots through you like a blaster is both molten and cool as spring water.

Your vocabulary is nothing but his name, soft breathes of “fuck” and “shit”, and the unrelenting “thank you”.

Your heart rattles against your ribs, beating so quickly you think it might burst from your chest and you feel another quivering sigh escape your lips as Dameron gives you a few more gentle sucks to your messy centre before he’s slowly running his hands up your thighs, to your knees, and gently sliding your legs off back to the floor.

Your body is trembling so hard that your knees nearly give in immediately, but, luckily, Dameron’s hands find your waist and ease you to the ground just as you let go of the handle of the drawer.

“Fuck,” you croak ungracefully once your ass is on solid ground and you gulp down nothing but air as you try to open your eyes. It’s not that different from your closed vision and there are a few white stars blinding you in the dark, but you can still make out the shape of your partner, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand before he’s leaning over your leg to check the control panel. It’s then that you can feel it, pressed against your shin. He’s hard as a fucking rock. “Y-you need—” But your voice is a garbled mess, exhausted from the alcohol and the Shakes, and he turns to you, fingers dancing up your calves before slowly pulling your ruined panties back up your thighs.

“Up,” he orders quietly, and you lift your hips up enough for him to slip them firmly back onto your hips. “And it’s fine. I told you. I’m good with the Shakes.”

“Yeah, but, y’know…” you mumble, “could be good.” You can feel him smiling as he leans over to kiss your neck blindly, still finding that tender juncture of your shoulder. You grin, your hands finding his shoulders and roaming his back, feeling the curved muscle of a military man. You know his type.

Continuing downward, down his sides…

“You do owe me,” he murmurs and you nod as he pulls back just as the sound of beeping on the other end of the door.

“Mhm, don’t wanna stay in debt,” you say just as the sound of whirring fills the heated silence and your grin grows as you expectedly raise one of your hands to shield the light about to fill their little closet. You pull your other hand away and you begin pulling the loops out on your heels, sliding your aching feet out of those torture shoes. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in the future, huh? Pay you back then.”

The door slides open and you stand as he scrambles to his feet as well. At least, you can see his features clearly, and you grin because he’s just as handsome as the first time you saw him.

Absolute score.

With your fingers hooked on your shoes, you wipe the bit of slick he missed on the corner of his mouth. He grabs your hand before it drops, pressing a cheeky kiss to the center of your palm and you roll your eyes.

“That’s fine with me,” he replies, squinting against the light and you tap his cheek. “See you around, Flyboy.” You flash him one last smile before leaving the closet first and walking down the hall. Your knees are still trembling and you feel like you’re a complete mess as you stagger through the metal hallway. Exhaustion is telling you to just go the fuck to sleep right then and there, but you can’t. Not until you get back to your ship and get into hyperspace.

As soon as you’ve rounded a corner, you run with everything you have.

It’s only a matter of time before Poe Dameron realizes that the chip that was in his pocket is making its way to another buyer.

Yvonna totally owes you.

[asteriasdaydream]

Recuperation

Requests: Levi is injured and his S/O finally convinces him to take a bath instead of a shower. However, getting clean is not the only thing on Levi’s mind.

Warnings: All the fluff. And the sexy time.

Your eyebrows furrowed with worry as you watched Levi limp his way to the bedroom, letting out a soft grunt with every step he took. He refused your help on the way. He was already ticked off at the fact that he managed to fracture his leg; he didn’t need to add insult to injury by having you baby him. Levi hardly every injured himself on expeditions – yet today seemed to be the rare exception.

He hadn’t said a word while he got his leg seen to by the medics – a deep scowl marring his features when he noticed the worried look in your eye.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He stated, undoing the buttons of his shirt. His straps and gear already long removed.

“You can’t keep putting pressure on your leg, Levi,” unable to watch him put himself through even more pain, you put your foot down at his stubbornness. “You’re taking a bath.”

Levi turned to face you. “You of all people know that is not going to happen.”

It was no secret to you that Levi was not fund of baths. At all. The idea of sitting in your own filth greatly disturbed him, but you couldn’t stand to let Levi hurt himself even more.

“You’re taking a bath.” You firmly stated, crossing your arms.

“No, no I am not.” Levi mimicked your actions, crossing his own arms.

“I’ll carry you in there if I have to,” you stated.

Oh. You were serious about this. With an injured leg, and the look on your face, Levi knew he was not going to win this one.

“Fine,” your name coming out as an exasperated sigh.

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows in mild surprise. You didn’t think it would be this easy to convince Levi to finally put himself in a bath. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on life’s small surprises – getting him cleaned up was your top priority.

Once the two of you reached the bathroom – with Levi finally allowing himself to lean his weight on you to guide – you instructed him to sit on the toilet while you readied the bath.

The sound of a shuffle behind you followed by a pained grunt prompted you to turn around. Levi was currently struggling to remove his pants, but with his leg out of order, was proving to be a more difficult task than usual.

This greatly frustrated Levi. First, he hurt his stupid leg and now he couldn’t even take his own damn pants off. Amazing.

“Let me,” you muttered, lowering yourself to your knees in front of him and helping him shimmy his pants off, being extra gentle with his left leg.

After Levi had all his clothes removed, you helped him into the bath, having him settle in the middle of it.

“You’re joining me?” It sounded more of a statement than a question, but that was just how Levi generally spoke.

“Of course,” a gentle smile gracing your features as you start removing your own uniform.

Even after dating Levi for as long as you have, the countless times he has seen your naked body, his intense gaze as he watched you undress didn’t stop the flush appearing on your face.

He never failed to make you feel shy.

Once undressed, you climbed into the bath, settling yourself in behind him.

“Come here,” you murmured softly, placing your hands on his shoulders and helping him lean backwards until his back rested on your chest, his head on your shoulder.

A soft hum of content left Levi’s lips as you wrapped your arms around his middle, gently stroking his toned stomach with your thumbs.

You couldn’t stop smiling. If Levi weren’t injured, this would have been the perfect moment. You had never seen him look this relaxed. His eyes closed; lips parted slightly with even breaths escaping them. He looked so serene. So beautiful. You couldn’t help but place a few tender kisses on his temple. Grateful that his leg was the only thing that was injured. If you could swop places with him, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Sitting upright now, you got Levi to do the same before reaching over for the soap to get ready to wash his hair.

Once you got his hair wet, you lathered the soap and got to washing it; your nails gently scratching against his scalp coaxing a soft sigh from Levi.

He would never admit it, but he already decided that he liked this a lot. This was much better than the shower by a landslide. But he would save you the opportunity of feeling smug about it like he knew you would and kept it to himself.

After rinsing his hair off, you got to work washing his body. You smiled as you felt his shoulders droop in relaxation as your hands slid across his neck, shoulders and down his back before manoeuvring yourself to sit in front of him in between his legs, again, being extra mindful of his left leg - which was currently propped up on the side of the tub in order to keep the wrappings around it dry – so you could get to work on washing his front.

Levi was about to stop you, but you silently protested, pushing his hands down.

“Let me take care of you.” You muttered, gathering the soap in your hands again before running your hands down his toned chest. You could feel his eyes burning into you, but you focused hard on your task. You felt his stomach jump slightly in response to your touch when you washed around his lower abdomen.

You finally looked up at him when you felt his hand grip around your wrist before you could move lower down.

You knew you were treading dangerous waters – literally – and the last thing you wanted was a frustrated Levi. You also did not want to do anything that could risk him injuring his leg further, so you gave up and let him handle the rest.

“My turn.” Levi spoke up, prompting you to turn around. Levi could sense your oncoming protest as your mouth opened. He knew you wanted to take care of him, but he wanted to do this. “Just let me.”

You closed your mouth, let out a soft smile and turned around so Levi could get started washing your hair.

You had to admit. This was amazing. Sure, Levi has washed your hair in the shower before, but there was something different about doing it in the bath. The closeness, sitting between his legs as he scratched his nails against your scalp felt akin to pure bliss. If you could, you’d sit here forever.

Once your hair was rinsed off, Levi got to work on washing your body. Running his hands across your shoulders. You hummed at the pleasant feeling of him scrubbing down your back.

Levi’s hands slithered around to your front and pulled you back against his chest. You looked to the side, wondering what he was up to. His hands coming across your chest in gentle circles. Your breath hitched as his slender fingers brushed passed your nipples.

Levi smirked, noticing the difference in your breath when his fingers reached your breasts.

This asshole, you thought. You knew he was aware of his effect on you and carried on circling your nipples a few more times before moving lower to wash you stomach. You squirmed a little as Levi’s fingers gently teased the area under your navel. You had to stop him now.

Gripping his hands in your own, you steadied your breath and spoke up, “I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure you want me to stop?” his voice husky in your ear. You wanted to scream. You knew he wasn’t asking if you wanted him to carry on washing you. Sly bastard.

“Yes.”

At this, Levi slowly removed his hands, dragging them along your wet skin as he went. You quickly finished washing the rest of your body before unstopping the plug in the bath to let the water run out.

After some time, you managed to help Levi out of the bath without putting pressure on his injured leg, drying the both of you off and getting dressed.

“Are you okay?” you asked Levi as you lay next to him on the bed.

“Yes, thank you for… everything.”

You couldn’t help the big smile that appeared on your face. “I’d do anything for you, Levi.”

Your smile grew bigger when you noticed the small smile on Levi’s own face as he looked away.

“Come here.” He murmured, tugging on your arm. He pulled you until your chest was on top of his own. Levi’s fingers came around the back of your neck and gently pulled your head forward, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

Soon enough the kiss turned a little heated. His teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, prompting you to open your lips so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth. You melted into his embrace.

Levi murmured your name between kisses. You hummed back in response, shivering when his hand came up underneath your shirt to run along your spine.

“I need you.”

You pulled back. Your heart jumping at Levi’s proclamation. Levi’s steely grey eyes dark. “You’re hurt though.” You blabbered.

“I don’t care about my fucking leg. I want you. Today, it could’ve been worse.”

Levi didn’t need to carry on. You knew exactly what was on his mind. It could have been more than just his leg. Or it could have been you. You knew the fact that he got injured bothered him more than he let on.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Tch, you worry too much,” Levi sighed, “now come here.”

He maneuvered your body on top of his, your hips settling on his own. You gasped, feeling his arousal press against your clothed heat.

“Already?”

“That bath was more exciting than I expected.”

You couldn’t help the smug smile that graced your features. After all that talk about baths, and he ends up liking it.

“Oi,” he caught your attention, “I don’t see much action.”

“So impatient,” you tease.

“Only for you.”

You flush, and his hands come up to your shirt, pushing it upwards. You lifted it over your head, watching as his eyes raked down your body.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Your face grew even hotter at his compliment. He told you this every single time you made love, and it never failed to make you blush.

You helped Levi sit upright and rest his back against the headboard, taking off his shirt followed by his pyjama pants and briefs, being careful once again around his left leg before removing the rest of your own clothing.

Levi brought you forward again, latching his mouth onto your neck, placing kisses here and there followed by gentle nips at your pulse. You moaned his name, your body turning weak at his ministrations.

His kisses moved downwards until he engulfed your right nipple in his mouth, sucking it gently while his other hand slid down your body to your heat, feeling your wetness coat his fingers before using his thumb to stroke at your clit.

“Wet already?” he smirked, “no surprises here.”

Smug bastard, you thought, taking his hardened length into your hand. It was your turn to smirk when you felt him breathe sharply through his teeth. Levi’s head falling back as you stroked him up and down before slowly lowering yourself on his dick.

You stilled when he was fully inside you. Biting your lip as you adjusted to his size.

Levi’s thumb dragged along your chin, pulling your lip out from the grip your teeth had on it.

“You know I want to hear you.”

Levi got exactly what he wanted when he thrusted up into you, drawing out a moan from you.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling your walls clench tightly around him.

Gripping the headboard with one hand and his shoulder with the other, you began to ride him, gasping his name when you felt Levi occasionally thrust upwards into you. His hands tightly gripping your hips, guiding you over his cock while he alternated between placing kisses on your neck and sucking your nipple into his mouth.

Levi slid one of his hands from your hips over to your arousal where he started rubbing at your clit again with his thumb. He let out a breathless chuckle as obscenities left your mouth. Your breathing so laboured due to being overcome with such pleasure, you could hardly get a word out.

Levi’s length pistoning in your wet heat made you see stars as you climbed further and further to your peak; your nails leaving crescent shaped indents into the skin of his shoulder.

You heard Levi groan as you clenched tighter around him as your climaxed neared.

“Fuck, come for me baby,” he grunted, growing close to his own end.

“I-“ you barely let out before you came. Your body convulsing as your climax took over. Your hips not stopping until you felt Levi’s cock twitch inside you followed by a deep groan marking his own climax.

Sweaty bodies stuck to one another, you clung to Levi as you tried to regain your breathing. His chest moving with each breath against your own.

“Guess it looks like we need to take another bath,” Levi said breathlessly looking at the mess the two of you made of yourselves after just washing.

An airy chuckle left your lips as you struggled to keep your eyes open, your body completely spent.

Levi decided that today, he preferred baths over showers any day.

[doubleleoenergy]

Whatever You Like

Yeah, I want your body, I need your body. Long as you got me, you won't need nobody.

Pairing: sugardaddy!Sam Wilson x latina!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, daddy kink, pet names (bonita, mi amor), passionate sex, wall sex, mentions of impregnation

Summary: Newly engaged y/n and sugardaddy!Sam are celebrating their enagement party with their loved ones.

Notes: This is my submission for @balenciagabucky​‘s/@dulceslibrary  3k writing challenge.

“Here comes y/n.” Tony announced, cocking his head in the direction of the glass staircase. 

Sam turned at Tony’s statement, excusing himself from the group as he waltzed across the floor to meet her at the end of the stairs. His eyes followed her every move as she sashayed down the steps, her hips swaying as she walked. Her body was enveloped in a tight red sparkly dress, a plunging neckline and thin straps drawing attention to her voluptuous breasts. Her nails were freshly manicured to match her toes peeking out of her strappy black stilettos, clicking against the glass steps as she walked down towards Sam.

She flashed one of her million-watt smiles at him, his hand reaching out to grab hers and help her down the final steps. 

“Stunning as ever, my bonita.” Sam gushed, moving his hand up high to give her a spin, his eyes running over her entire body as she did a 360 turn for him.

“You’re not so bad yourself, mi amor.” Y/N purred, the words rolling off her tongue before she leaned up on her tippy toes to kiss his lips.

Sam hadn’t met y/n in a conventional way, the only people who knew the truth were Sarah and the team. He knew that there were plenty of women who would die to be with him, with Captain America, but he wanted someone special. Someone he could trust with his crazy life. After swiping through multiple dating apps and going on a few horrendous dates, he saw an ad for a sugar baby dating site.

He signed up on a whim, more so curious as to what a sugar baby lifestyle entailed. There were lots of women on the site and even some men, most with profile pictures of them in scantily clad outfits with large fur coats and diamond jewelry. Searching through the profiles he came across one that stood out among the rest. Y/N’s profile included a picture you would see on Facebook; y/n in a baby blue bodycon dress, standing by the countertop of a bar holding a beer and smiling that infectious smile. Her profile read: “Not sure how any of this works, my friend told me to sign up. Just looking to put myself through nursing school. I’m not going to respond if you’re super old. I also know self-defense so don’t try anything.”

Sam liked that she was different, that she had ambition, that she was a normal twenty-one-year-old just trying to make ends meet. He knew what that was like in life, and so he asked her out for a coffee date. That coffee date turned into a second coffee date, and then a dinner date. And one year later it turned into an engagement. Y/N was everything he could’ve ever wanted and more. She was selfless, intelligent, a feisty Latina who with a bat of her long lashes could get him to bend in any argument. She was a great cook, an amazing nurse, and phenomenal in the bedroom. 

He never felt taken advantage of in their relationship, she was always up front and honest about what she wanted, and when things turned into more, he never for a second thought she was using him for money. He spoiled her with clothes, jewelry, and flowers, despite her protests on only needing money for school. Sam wanted to offer her everything in the world and would continue to do so for the rest of their lives together.

Sam led y/n over to the team, grabbing them each a glass of champagne from a nearby server, his hand on the small of y/n’s back as they walked.

“There’s the happy couple!” Steve cheered, patting Sam’s shoulder as he stood beside them. He raised his glass high in the air, gesturing for the rest of the team to do the same. “Y/N, I’ve never seen Sam as happy as he has been over the past year with you. Just having you in his life has made him a better person. Plus, he looks much better with you by his side.” Steve teased. “To a lifetime of happiness for you both.” Everyone clinked their glasses together, Sam smiling proudly as he took a sip from his glass.

“Couldn't have said it better myself.” Bucky added, crossing his arms over his chest, his metal arm shining in the light of the chandelier.

“So, have you guys decided on a date yet?” Nat questioned, grabbing a mini muffuletta off a nearby tray and chewing thoughtfully on it as she made eye contact with y/n.

“We’re thinking sometime in the spring, possibly April, back in Louisiana. Sarah already offered to make all of the food for the reception.” Y/N responded, looking up lovingly at Sam.

“That way we don’t get as much of the Louisiana heat. Nothing worse than wearing a full suit and sweating through it within twenty minutes of being outside. It’ll be small, mostly just the team and some family friends from back home.” With y/n and Sam’s parents both deceased, they didn’t have much family to attend. To them it was more than okay, the day would be filled with love regardless.

The celebration continued late into the evening, everyone leaving on their own accord besides the team, who had gathered sharing stories of the good old days and successful missions. Y/N sat on the armrest of the couch; her legs draped over Sam’s body. Her nails ran up and down his chest absentmindedly as she listened to their stories.

Her eyes focused on Sam’s body, the way his navy button up clung to his arms, his muscles taut against the fabric. His black slacks were tight enough to reveal the outline of his cock, teasing and taunting y/n all night with just the sight of it.

Y/N’s lips danced against Sam’s ear, her voice a low and seductive whisper. “Meet me upstairs in five minutes. Don’t make it obvious.” And with that y/n excused herself, letting the group know that she was headed to the restroom. 

Stepping into the elevator, y/n headed up to the second floor, leaning against the wall as she waited for Sam. Five minutes passed, the ding of the elevator making her lips curl into a bewitching smile, the doors opening to reveal Sam, his eyes blown wide with lust. Y/N tilted her head in the direction of a nearby door, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she turned the knob, walking into one of the many guest bedrooms on that floor.

Sam followed close behind, shutting the door behind them and locking it. He wasted no time, pushing y/n against the bedroom wall, his hands sweeping over her body as his lips crashed against hers. His lips trailed down the supple skin of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating perfume as he kissed down her collarbone. He peppered kisses along her exposed cleavage, a whine escaping her lips.

“We’ve don’t have much time mi amor, been thinking about your cock all night, I need it.” She pleaded, her hands moving down to unbuckle his belt and free his thick cock.

A low hum vibrated deep in his chest, helping her push his trousers down, kicking them aside as his left hand snaked under her dress, a dark chuckle leaving his lips. “You’re not wearing any panties, my bonita.”

His fingers swiped against her slit, feeling them coated with her juices, pushing her dress up to bunch it around her waist. “Soaked already for me, I need to fill this tight pussy.”

And with that Sam parted her legs with his thigh, his hands moving to grip the back of her thighs before tugging her up. Y/N wrapped her legs instinctively around his waist, crashing their lips together again as she felt his cock rub against her folds.

“Please mi amor,..” She panted, trying to buck her hips down on his cock.

“Say it.” Sam commanded, teasing her folds with the tip.

“Please daddy.” The words send shivers down Sam’s spine, lining up his cock and sliding her down onto him, filling her pussy. He felt her stretching around him, letting her adjust to his size before pulling her up off his cock and slamming her back down.

“So, fucking tight, how are you so tight when I fill this cunt day and night with my cock?” He continued to bounce her up and down, her back rubbing against the wall with each thrust. Her hands were wrapped tight around Sam’s neck, her nails digging into the skin.

“Can’t wait to marry you, to fill you up with my cock for the rest of our lives. Want to fuck a baby into you.” Y/N mewled, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“You like that idea, huh? My bonita.” He can feel her walls tightening around him, a sign of her orgasm building up. “Cum for me, make a mess on daddy’s cock.”

He thrusted once, twice, three times before she came, her legs shaking around his waist and her eyes rolling back into her head as she released. Sam continued to fuck her through her high, his own orgasm following quickly after hers. He stilled inside of her, holding them against the wall for a moment before he gently pulled her off his cock, a mix of their cum dripping down her thigh.

“I love you so much Sam.” She cooed, kissing him once more. He cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers. 

“I love you too, bonita. Now let’s clean up and get back down to the party, we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

[derelictlovefool]

Shiptober Day 7

Prompt: Confrontation

Ship: John Seed x Deputy James Rook x Deputy Dean Sinclaire

Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, plane crash

Words: 1, 957

The plane went down and Dean's heart sank with it. 

Plumes of smoke mixed with the clouds and Dean frantically searched the open air as he turned his plane back around. He hadn't wanted this, he told John time and time again just wait—but he couldn't hold on that long. He couldn't dance between his devotion to his brother and the feelings that had been bubbling between himself and the two junior deputies any more than he already had. Someone had to atone, someone had to answer for their sins, someone had to put an end to this cat and mouse game.

And he decided it had to be Dean. And Dean played his part, exactly as intended.

And now he was watching the herald of Holland Valley float to the ground with his parachute, bruised and looking worse for wear but alive. Relief flooded Dean's chest at the realisation and his hand fumbled with the plane's radio.

"James, he's about to touch down, where are you?" His voice is shaky as he speaks into the radio and after a moment of static that familiar grounding voice comes through.

"I can see your plane i'm almost there," James' voice has the same shake to it, his nerves were wrecked from witnessing the brutal plane fight that had been filled with frustrated back and forth bickering and an assault of bullets mostly from John's end. Dean takes a deep breath and weighs his options, he could find somewhere to land and risk peggies finding John before James did or he could do the reckless thing and jump out after him.

After swallowing thickly he makes up his mind, he'd come this far right? Parachuting after his enemy slash lover to stop him from fleeing wasn't the craziest thing he'd have done this year. 

Fuck it.

He unbuckles himself and presses a few buttons—He knew barely anything about planes so he was really winging it here. But before he knew it he was being sucked up into the air and watching his plane disappear and veer down towards the earth. 

Panic shoots through him, that sinking feeling filling his gut as he free falls. His shaking hands fumble with the string of his parachute, anxiety making his movements feel sluggish and far too slow. But he manages to hook his fingers through the strap and pull, grunting as his body is tugged back as the parachute shoots out behind him and slows him down.

He gasps in relief and grabs onto the handles for dear life, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before turning his head down and looking for John. He can see him looking up at him, those blue eyes conflicted as ever. It's a mix of anger and relief, resentment and hope. He wanted Dean to come after him, he wanted that last show to prove he wasn't letting him go. But still he shouts into his radio, not ready to give in just yet and Dean frowns. Stubborn bastard.

John lands first, Dean sees him hit the ground less than gracefully and winces as his body curls and rolls across the foliage covered ground harshly. Dean's mind races through all the times he'd been taught how to do this, sticks his legs out straight, ducks his head down and braces for the impact. His boots slide across the ground and then he falls to his ass, rolling a fair distance and being stopped by the parachute catching on a few trees.

Dean groans, pushing himself onto his hands and knees and fighting to detach himself from the parachute. He hears coughing and strained groans from his right and he looks up to see John crawling a ways away from him, also struggling with his parachute. 

So this was it.

He heaves a heavy breath and stands, stumbling before steadying himself and slowly marching over to John. He's still angry, seeing what he did to Nick infuriates him to no end but he can't help the trickle of hesitancy he feels. He'd spent an incriminating amount of time in John's ranch, stealing moments he never should have had. He and James were both guilty of getting too comfortable and now he had to choose if he wanted to follow through with what everyone else wanted him to do or do what his heart was screaming for.

He couldn't kill him, but he also couldn't leave him here either.

"Dean!" James' voice shouts through the trees and John's head snaps up, eyes locking with Dean's and he jolts up onto his knees, almost falling over in the process. Dean shoots him a hard stare before glancing over his shoulder and catching a glimpse of James' blue flannel through the shrubbery.

"We're over here!" He calls back, voice now firm as he tries to steel himself for whatever it is that was about to happen. He had to remind himself they still had to get Hudson out of John's bunker, they had a job to do, this wasn't personal. It wasn't supposed to be—but the way John's blue eyes pierced into his with waves of vitriol pulling him under and filling his lungs with a flurry of his own anger and fatigue reminded him it was. 

"Are you okay?" James is out of breath as he jogs up to Dean's side, large hand catching his elbow and pulling him back to check for any injuries. He was a bit beaten up thanks to the circus that went on in that stupid church but other than that he was fine. Well physically, mentally and emotionally? Not so much.

"No, i'm not," He mutters bitterly, glaring at John until James grabs his cheek and makes him look up at him. James' blue eyes were soft, full of worry and it eased that raging storm swirling inside Dean like a hurricane. His glare softens and he lets his cheek fall into James' hand, he was fucking tired. This whole situation was a nightmare.

"I'm alright too thank you for asking," John snaps, glaring up at the two with poorly veiled envy. The arrogance in his tone sets Dean off again, who did he think was getting haughty when he was the damn reason they were in the air in the first place? If he was going to be angry he should be angry at his damn self.

"John, if you know what's good for you, you will shut the fuck up," Dean snarls, shoving away from James and grabbing the collar of John's stupid jacket and pulling him up so he was inches away from his face. James quickly places a hand on his tense shoulder, cooing at him like you would a dangerous animal and all John can do is laugh. Laugh right in Dean's face.

"If I knew what was good for me Dean I never would have let you into my bed, either of you," The words sting and John's smile twists into a deep frown at the flash of hurt on both Dean and James' faces.

"Don't act like you're the ones that are hurt, I'm the one that thought perhaps for a second I had gotten through to you, that you were really willing to be with me—I should have known better I suppose. Joseph warned me about this, but I didn't listen. No, I let myself fall for a delusion, it would be funny if it wasn't so cruel," John rants, his tone more bitter than ever as he leant his head back to glare up at the clouds. Dean feels like screaming and he can feel James' own frustration rolling off of him in waves.

"We do want to be with you, you stupid, egocentric, full of yourself piece of shit! I told you to wait and what did you do?" Dean can't help but raise his voice, shake John by his collar as tears well up in the corner of his eyes. They were angry tears, tears formed by months of similar thinking to John—That they were getting through, that he was finally willing to listen to them. Fuck, what was he thinking? John didn't listen to anybody but Joseph.

"I did the only thing I could do! How long did you expect me to wait, how long did you expect me to be your obedient little puppy dog waiting patiently by the door for you to come back to me? You didn't want to come willingly so I gave you no choice, just like neither of you gave me a choice," John shouts right back, grabbing hold of Dean's wrists and pulling him down to his knees in the mud. James grabs both of their shoulders, not allowing them to start wrestling in the mud as they tug and pull on each other angrily.

"We had a plan John, we still have a plan," James stresses, kneeling on the ground and moving his hand to the back of John's neck. The baptist snorts and rolls his eyes fiercely.

"Oh? And where did I fit in exactly because from where I was standing it didn't seem like I was even fucking in it," He spits, looking up at James with badly hidden hurt in his eyes. James feels his shoulders sag, looking between John and Dean and then casting a wary glance over his shoulder at the sound of dogs and distant helicopters. They weren't going to get anything constructive done here—Not with all these wounds being so fresh. Especially not when Dean and John were both visibly pissed and unable to see anything other than their own tunnel visioned point of views.

"We don't have time for this," He sighs, standing and pulling John up with Dean's help. John stumbles into James' side and scoffs.

"Oh no of course not, you never have time, none of us do but you two can't even appreciate the little time we do have so fuck it, why care at all? Let's just stay out here all night screaming at each other," John barks out, an irritated smile stretching across his face as he gestures his hands wildly beside him.

"Dutch's bunker," Dean says firmly, grabbing one of John's wrists forcefully and pulling him towards him. John's expression falls into a look of contempt immediately, matching Dean's resentful glare.

"That's what I was thinking," James agree's, placing a hand on John's arm with a much gentler grip than Dean afforded him.

"Excuse me?" John asks incredulously, looking between the two of them as Dean leans across him and unhooks the handcuffs from James' belt.

"John Seed you are under arrest," Dean begins and a look of shock washes over John's face, "you have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—" Dean's word are stone cold and James shoots him a worried glance as he begins cuffing John in an almost robotic motion.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," John spits out in disbeleif, trying to twist around and snake his arms away but James holds him in place.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you," Dean continues, hooking a hand around his bicep and pushing him in the direction James came from. John is speechless for a moment, staring at the side of Dean's face as if he'd grown an extra head. He'd obviously had a vision of how today was going to unfold and this had not been in his planner. 

"You think arresting me is going to put a stop to anything? Do you think this changes anything?"

"No, but like you said—You gave us no choice,"

[drcalmreid]

the tell - s.r.

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: fluff — garcia plays cupid because spencer can’t get up the nerve to ask out his crush

content warning: reader has mild social anxiety

word count: 3.3k

authors notes: happy Valentine’s Day friends!! even if you’re single today, just remember you’re loved by so so many people (including me!!) also: this is my first spencer writing so hopefully I did him justice....anyway, enjoy xoxo

gif credit: reidsbau on wattpad

YOUR POV

I think nearly everyone who meets Dr. Spencer Reid can agree that it's seemingly impossible not to have a crush on him. Maybe that’s bias, but screw it. I have a crush on Spencer and there’s nothing I can do about it, I mean...crushes on coworkers never end well, let alone BAU partners, right?

“(y/n)? Are you even listening?” JJ chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she stands in front of the white board. Victims' photos are scattered across the board, messy handwriting scribbled about, and an endless amount of sticky notes and question marks littering any open spaces.

“Yeah, sorry…” I snap out of my day dream and lean back on the desk chair. “What were you saying J?”

“I think the victims are all linked through their social media,” she says, turning her back to me again, glancing up at the board.

“We eliminated that, they don’t have any crossover in followers, interests, or previous searches.”

“Damn, you’re right...I’ve been staring at this board for so long—I need a coffee. You?”

“Yes please,” I smile at her and she leaves the conference room, just as Spencer enters.

“Any progress?”

“Nope,” I say popping my lips together. “JJ and I are starting to lose it.”

“Maybe you need a break...Or a fresh set of eyes,” Spencer says, taking the seat next to me. He narrows his eyes forward at the whiteboard and I shift in my chair. My heart nearly leaps from my chest every time I see Spencer, it’s pitiful. I used to be able to control myself around him and calm my nerves, but now it’s damn near impossible.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, his eyes still trained on the board. He shifts his eyes to my side, body still facing forward.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re picking off your nail polish...you only do that when you’re nervous or stressed.” Spence notes without hesitation. Damn it.

“No—nothing, I’m fine. Wait,” I spin my chair to face him. “You know my tell?”

“Tell?”

“Yeah, a tell. Nervous tick, body language, whatever. You know mine?”

“Of course I do,” he turns finally to face me and my heart flips. “I know everyone’s. Emily bites her nails, JJ overcompensates with smiles, Morgan compliments way too much—”

“And mine is my nail polish,” I say and Spencer nods with a tight lipped smile. “Well, I know yours.”

I stand from the round table and walk around the edge of it approaching the white board. I run my fingers across the wood of the table and bend my legs, leaning on the end of the tabletop right in front of the board... and Spencer.

“I don’t have a tell,” he says, voice wavering. He stands from his seat and follows me. Spencer stands directly in front of me and peers down. Thank god I’m sitting leaning on this table, otherwise I’d be on the floor.

“What is it?” Spencer asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I thought you ‘don’t have a tell’?” I mock, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well, let’s say...for educational purposes, I did have one, what is it?” Spencer asks, leaning back on his heels while crossing his arms.

“Even for educational purposes...Not telling you.”

“Please,” Spencer begs.

“Did the two of you make any progress or did you just flirt the whole time?” JJ smirks, walking through the doorway with two coffees in hand.

“Uh, no—I-um...well,” Spencer stumbles over his words and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. He quickly drops it as he notices me looking. Don’t worry Spencer, that’s not it. His cheeks turn an undeniable red and he spins on his heels facing the board again.

“I’m kidding Spence,” JJ laughs and passes me a coffee cup. “Seriously though, any progress?”

“Nope,” Spencer and I say in unison.

—

“C’mon (y/n)! It’s Valentine’s Day! You have to go!” Garcia pouts, shoving my shoulder gently. She’s been perched up on the corner of my desk for the last five minutes begging, pleading, and bribing me to go to the BAU’s Valentine’s Day party.

“No. Pen, I’m sorry...I can’t—” I smile at her trying my best not to give myself away. I want to go to the party...I do, but being reminded of just how single I am on the most love-filled holiday doesn’t really sound like a party…

Penelope grabs a fluffy topped pen from my desk and pokes me with it, “Why because of you-know-who?”

“Penelope!” I yell to her at whisper volume, swatting her arm.

“What? He can’t hear me,” she tilts her head forward to Spencer who’s got his nose buried in case files across the bullpen.

“I tell you one thing,” I roll my eyes at her and grab the pen back.

“One big thing...listen just tell me you’ll think about it?”

“Okay, fine Penelope,” I look up at her, and know I’m instantly going to regret my words, “I’ll think about it.”

SPENCERS POV

“Cupid’s here!” Garcia chimes while sitting down on the edge of my desk. “So for the party tonight, I’m going to need you to bring—”

“I’m not going, Garcia.” I cut her off, “I’m sorry, but I have too much to do.”

“No, Boy-Genius. You. Are. Coming.” She says, poking my shoulder with each word...for emphasis, I assume. “It’s the most loveable, easy holiday out there! Cupid only comes one time a year!”

“Actually that’s not true,” I say while closing a file on my desk. “In Ancient Greek mythology, Cupid would shoot Gods and mortals at any time, with a golden tipped arrow in order to make them fall in love. But what most people don’t know is, he would use a lead based arrow to make others repulsed by their admirers—”

“Yeah, and which one did you get shot with? Hmm?” Garcia asks, grinning at me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say coyly. I turn my chair away from her, opening back up the file I just closed. I rub my fingers across my face and nose, trying my best to concentrate.

“You know exactly what I mean, Doctor,” Garcia hops down from my desk and works her way around to stand in front of me. “If I had to guess, I would say Cupid shot you with a golden arrow engraved with (y/n)’s name…”

“Cupid didn’t engrave—” I look up from my desk, but Garcia’s already gone, jogging over to catch up with JJ near the kitchen.

—

I close my last case file and peer up at the clock. 6:38pm. Shit. I told Garcia that I couldn’t come to her Valentine’s Day party due to files, but now I’m done with my files 22 minutes before her party...great. If the team finds out that I had the time to come and didn’t, I’m a dead man. I sigh defeated and stand from my desk, grabbing my satchel. I throw the strap over my shoulder with one arm, while grabbing my coat. Flicking off my desk light, I look up to see (y/n) sitting at her desk, half-hidden behind a stack of files. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she concentrates on the words in front of her, chewing the end of a highlighter. I stare at her foundly and my heart aches, what idiot gets a crush on their coworker? Is this high school? I mean I wouldn’t know I never had high school cru-

“Spencer,” (y/n) says, drawing me back to reality. I had been staring at her this whole time…“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I- uh,” I say tripping over my words.

“We’re staring at me? Yeah,” she laughs. She sits back in the desk chair, dropping the highlighter on the table top. She smiles at me, “You headed to Garcia’s?”

“Yeah,” I say running my hand across my bag strap, “looks like it.”

“Well,” (y/n) sighs and closes her files. “Looks like I am too. I can’t keep staring at these files. I’m getting nowhere.” I smile at her and take a quick stride across the bullpen, passing JJ and Morgan’s empty desks. Standing in front of her, my hands locked on my satchel strap and leaning back on my heels. Just ask her.

“Do you want to go over there together?” I ask and my own words startle me. “Not like together-together, I-I meant, I could drive you over there. Not that I don’t think you couldn’t drive yourself over there-”

“Spencer,” (y/n) smiles, standing up from her desk. “I would love to go over to Garcia’s with you.” I let out a relieved sigh and calm my nerves. (Y/n) grabs her bag and coat from the back of her chair and I walk towards her, we walk quietly out of the BAU, through the glass doors, to the elevator and (y/n) pushes the down button.

“So,” (y/n) says after some time, “how drunk do we think Penelope is going to be?”

“Incredibly intoxicated,” I smile at her with a nervous smile, just as the doors open.

—

“Oh, oh, oh! My favorite people, of my favorite people!” Garcia chimes as we open her front door. She runs up to (y/n) and I, throwing her arms around us in a group hug. (y/n) squints her eyes in the hug and wraps her arms around Garcia. Finally, she lets go and (y/n) leans into me, “incredibly intoxicated”.

“Incredibly,” I smile looking down at her and she flashes a grin right back. Garcia disappears to find Morgan and leaves (y/n) and I in the doorway. (y/n) instinctively brings her hands together and starts picking at her nails. After working with her for a little over a year, I’ve come to find that social situations make (y/n) incredibly nervous and anxious. She clings to me out of pure anxious thoughts and all I want is to lean down and tell her everything is alright and I will always protect her, but I can’t...

“Want a drink?” I ask, trying my best to distract her.

“Yes, please.” She responds almost too quickly and peers up at me. “I don’t- I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I work with all these people, but here, outside of the BAU, it’s different.”

“I know,” I nod at her as we cross the living room into the kitchen. I pour out Garcia’s “Cupid Cosmos” into two cups and pass one to her. She takes the cup from me gently, and cradles it between her two hands. (Y/n) drinks from it carefully and slowly and I catch myself staring at not just her, but her lips. I imagine how they would feel against mine and how right they would fit. She stands close to me and I can smell her perfume; she smells warm and inviting. I can’t help, but fall for her more and more each day. She laughs at something JJ yells across the room, but she never strays away from my side. I finally turn my gaze away from her and see Morgan analyzing every bit of my lovestruck stare. He raises a finger at me as if to say “I knew it, Kid! You’re smitten!” ...and I did know it, I just didn’t know if (y/n) did too.

—

YOUR POV

I’ve practically become Spencer’s fifth limb at Garcia’s party, but I can’t help myself. The combination of my usual social anxiety mixed with my complete and utter daze I get in around Spencer, I can’t help but stick to his side. He doesn’t seem to mind it though, so I stay near him most of the night, except for when I see Garcia spring up from the couch headed towards me.

“Oh, (y/n)! Let me show you this! I’ve been meaning to show you my bedroom, I just got new shelves!”

“You want to show me your shelves at a party?”

“Yes,” Garcia shifts her eyes between Spencer and I. “Reid can come too if he wants, it’s not that exciting, but I don’t want to leave you out.”

“Sure, Garcia,” Reid says from beside me. I think those are the first words he’s spoken all night. “We’d love to see your shelves.”

I turn and raise my eyebrows at him, surprised he was up for Garcia’s weird invitation….but the three of us head into her bedroom regardless. I walk into the bedroom and look around, there’s no new shelves in here.

“Penelope, where are the—”

“Listen you two,” She says, shutting the door behind Spencer and her. “The two of you need to talk this out because my little heart can’t take it anymore!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer starts but is cut off almost instantly by Penelope.

“Can it, Dr. Reid. Seriously,” she sighs. Garcia leans to one side, waving her arms in the space between myself and Reid. “I don’t need your 187 point IQ to figure this one out. The two of you need to talk before I beat it out of you with Cupid’s bow and arrow.” Garcia smiles at the end of her little threat speech and turns to leave the room. “It was either this, or set you both up on the same blind date...this was easier, I’m a busy girl.” She says and closes the door behind her.

“So,” Spencer says, sitting on an ottoman.

“So…”

“We’re supposed to talk?” He asks looking down at his converse.

“Yep,” I try my best to smile at him, while my heart rate skyrockets. I sit on the bed opposite to Spencer and look down at my hands. My perfect red manicure has been chipped away at the cuticles, and I find myself wanting to rip off more polish.

“You should stop doing that,” Spencer says. I glance up at him and sigh. He’s right. I mean he’s always right, but this time he’s right on target.

“Yeah I should,” I laugh and Spencer does too.

“So,” Spencer says again.

“Oh my god Spencer, if you say ‘so’ one more time I swear,” I snort and he tries to contain his laughter by burying his face in his hands. He brings his face up to meet my eyeline, rubs his index and middle finger down the center of his nose and curls his fingers into a perfect fist, resting right up against his mouth. There it is. His tell.

“Why are you doing that,” I probe, sitting forward on the bed.

“Doing what?”

“Fidgeting with your hands and your face,” I stand from the bed and walk closer to him. “You only do that when you're nervous…” Spencer looks up at me through his curls, fist still resting against his mouth. He doesn’t say a word and right there I know...“Wait Spence, why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous...you’re nervous”

“Yeah,” I squat down in front of him. I cross my legs sitting on the plush carpet floor, “we already know that.” Reid smiles gently and goes to rub his nose again, but hesitates.

“Wait,” he drops his fingers from his face and peers down at me. “Is that my tell? Rubbing my nose?”

“Does that mean you’re nervous?”

Spencer sighs and stands up from the ottoman, leaving me on the floor. He runs his fingers through his curls and lets out a nervous laugh. “Yes, (y/n). Of course I’m nervous. I get nervous every time I’m around you.”

“Every time?” I ask looking down at my nails. When I look back up Spencer is already staring down at me. He slowly sinks to the floor and sits cross-legged next to me. He reaches out hesitantly and grabs my hands. “I really like you, (y/n). I can’t help myself around you, you make me so nervous. I feel like I’m in one of those terrible romantic comedies you force me to watch. I just, I really like you.”

I raise my eyebrows at him in complete and utter shock, “Spencer, I-”’ Spencer rambles on, “I don’t even know if you feel the same way. You know what? As usual, I got ahead of myself,” He takes his hands back and sets them on the floor, placing all his weight on them attempting to stand up from the ground.

“No,” I reach out to him and grab his right hand carefully. Usually Spencer would flitch or react at the thought of someone touching his hands, but he doesn’t...He actually relaxes. “I like you, too. That’s why I’ve been so goddamn nervous around you...I can’t contain it anymore, I used to be able to, but now it’s been eating away at me for months.”

“You know, recent studies have shown that if a crush lasts more than four months, you’re in love,” Spencer comments. “Sorry, go on-”

Silence settles between us for a moment before Spencer and I bust out in giggles. I shift closer to him on the floor, pressing my back against the spring-board of Garcia’s bed. Spencer follows suit and leans against the bed, stretching out his legs in front of him. I rest my hands in my lap and Spencer does too.

“Spencer?”

“Yes, (y/n).”

“How long have you had a crush on me?”

“1 year, 5 months, 9 days, and,” he glances down at his watch on his wrist. “8 hours and 24 minutes.”

“1 year, 5 months—wait, my first day?” I tilt my head towards Spencer, but he’s already looking at me.

“Yes, your first day.” He smiles and a blush stains his cheeks. I could just stare at his smile for hours. “More specifically, when you introduced yourself and you actually listened to my rambling about the history of your last name. Most people don’t do that, they just get annoyed and want me to get to the point.”

“I’m not most people,” I grin.

“I know you’re not. That’s why I like you.”

“Mmm,” I humm and lean down resting my head on Spencer’s shoulder. I glance up at Spencer to make sure he’s okay with my physical touch and he smiles. His shoulders tense up at first, but quickly relax once I rest my head down. “Say it again.” “I like you, (y/n).” Spencer says confidently and his hand works its way from his lap to mine. He holds my hand gently, but cautiously. I don’t push the envelope because I know just how worried Spencer gets about physical displays of affection, but when he reaches out to me, I don’t stop him.

“I like you too, Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

Spencer laughs lightly and rubs his thumb across the back of my hands. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of my head, still resting on his shoulder. I glance up at him quickly and his grin is still plastered across his face.

“Do you want to go back out to the party?” I ask Spencer, while also reminding myself that our coworkers are just a door away.

“Not really,” Spencer says contently.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Garcia slowly opens the door, peering inside. She takes in the image of Spencer and I, hand-in-hand, head on shoulder, sitting together on the floor at the foot of her bed. She clasps her hands together, “Is it? Are you two?” Her smile overwhelms her and her eyes crinkle up in excitement, “So you’re valentines?”

“Yes, Garcia…” Spencer says shyly. “We’re valentines.”

—

ugh I love some mushy Spencer :”) I wanted to write Spencer having a nervous tick around the reader and a valentine's day prompt, so I just smashed ‘em together...anyway, if you have any requests leave em here! I hope y'all enjoyed it. follow for more! xoxo

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stay safe and wear a mask! -m