#am i going to pass out first or am i going to finish these fics first?

[analogwriting]

im 12 shots deep and killer is balls deep inside mc

do with that information what you will...

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Hope you're doing okay, and take it easy if you haven't been!

For the flirty prompts starters list, could you maybe do: "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." with Vil? I think it'd be a good one

Thanks!

(I hope you have fun writing this if you do! No biggie if you don't or if someone else already asked!)

GIGGLING SO MUCH

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Vil experiencing cuteness aggression.jpg, not proofread a part of this event

Vil considers himself to be an eloquent man.

After all, how one speaks is just as important as how one carries themselves, and every last inch of him, from his looks to his body language to his words, have been refined to perfection. Each a golden thread in the dazzling tapestry that is Vil Schoenheit.

And yet, despite that, he still can't seem to find a way to describe you.

Frustrating is not quite right. Epel is frustrating. Those first years you insist on spending your precious time with are frustrating. But you...

You are not annoying, nor are you incompetent. His usual vocabulary for the students of NRC is useless when it comes to you.

...And different is too vague.

Vil just seems to forget what to do with his hands when you're around.

You look so soft in the golden afternoon light of the lounge, which is distracting enough as it is. Now you're giggling in the way you do, and he can't concentrate, and... what was he doing, again?

"Stop that," he says, plainly, not looking up from the textbook he'd been reading. Or trying to, anyway. He'd lost his place some time ago.

You make this... sound, this confused little hum, and he pictures you tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Sevens, you're just so...

He huffs. "I said, stop,"

"Stop what?"

Clueless little thing. Vil sighs, finding it within himself to make eye contact. He'd given up on finishing this assignment early, anyway.

"You know what,"

You stare back, unblinking. Are you really so oblivious? No, there's no way you aren't doing this on purpose, whatever it is, just to get on his nerves. Did those friends of yours put you up to this?

He should scold you. He invited you to study with him, a luxury which many would pay millions for, and here you are, being...

Ugh. He still can't think of the right word.

"Am I being too loud?" you ask, a confused lilt in your voice.

Sevens, you are so dense, he wants to just grab you and squeeze you like a stress ball until a thought comes out of that empty head.

The thought of that is no help. If anything, it just bothers him more.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Are you really not doing this on purpose? "No. You're distracting me,"

"Oh... sorry,"

...In such a soft, meek little tone, like you really feel bad about it, looking up at him with those eyes of yours... ugh. He wants to bite you, squeeze you in his arms until this overwhelming, restless feeling passes. You're so...

"It's... fine," Vil relents. "I don't think I would've gotten much done today, anyway."

You actually tilt your head to the side this time, worsening his condition. "Something on your mind?"

Sevens, what are you doing to him? He can't sit still. He pictures himself reaching across the table to pinch your cheeks, to kiss that sweet, worried expression off your face. The effect you have...

And you're not even doing anything!

"No," he says, his voice strained with the weight of the lie. "Just burnout. It's a busy time of year for me."

You seem to take that as a cue, standing from your seat with wide eyes and holding out a hand, much to his chagrin.

"You should be resting, then. Overworking yourself will only make things worse. Come on, let's go back,"

Such a determined expression on that pretty face of yours. There's just something about how you respond so innocently, so intent on caring for him, you're...

You're so...

Vil feels his heart drop. Oh, Sevens. That's the word.

You're so cute.

"Stop that," he snaps. He can feel his face warming. "This is the last time I'll ask."

A little flash of annoyance crosses your face at his dismissal. How adorable...

"Stop what?" You repeat.

Even your scoff is cute. His face feels hot. He can handle beautiful. Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, even, But not cute. And now he's getting himself all worked up over it, and you're being so sweet, and...

"Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you!"

Nothing has ever had such an effect on him before.

After all, it would take something incredible to fluster Vil- and here he is, blurting out every thought he has, blushing like a schoolgirl as he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

Vil Schoenheit, suddenly terrified of being rejected. It was as if he'd woken up in a parallel universe.

Or died, and went to his own personal Hell.

The shock slowly wears off your face, and you... laugh.

You laugh.

"You're very forward,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, and not the way you meant it," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I'm failing to find what's so amusing."

You move around the table to sit next to him, eyes gleaming. "How would you like me to react, then?"

Vil stares back. Was that... flirtation? Perhaps you're not so oblivious, after all...

But still cute.

Still very cute.

He sighs, though there's a smile playing at his lips now. "Save me the embarrassment of being rejected,"

"Hmm... I suppose that can be arranged,"

And with that, he cups your face in his hands and draws you in for that kiss.

[chilling-seavey]

Confessional (gr63)

↳ A/N Oh gosh...am I really posting this? PLEASE read the warnings. This fic is not for everyone. Do not read if you are not comfortable with dark sexual themes.

↳ Summary: George is the golden boy of the congregation and can do no wrong as the pastor’s son and purest of heart, body, and soul. You find yourself fantasizing about ruining each other's purity more than anything, although little do you know, after an unexpected fess up in the confessional booth, he’s not as innocent as meets the eye.

↳ Pairings: Dark!Pastor's Son!George Russell x Innocent!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 18.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, George is not a nice guy in this, very sacrilegious (read at your own risk) but branch of religion is unspecified, corruption, manipulation and using God/religious threats as a manipulation tactic. Brief drug use, dirty talk, spanking with hands and objects, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, rough fingering, spitting, slapping, crying, praise, degradation, dumbification, light humiliation, squirting, subdrop, unprepped anal (and going directly from anal to vaginal - do NOT do this), unprotected sex, virginity taking (hymen breaking/blood)

George was an angel on earth. To his family, to his congregation, and, honestly, to the entire town. He was their gift from God - his mother made a point to say at every church gathering she could - and yet there wasn’t a boastful bone in his entire body. He was the pastor’s son after all. He had an image to withhold. He had God’s image to withhold. 

As he grew out of the church’s boy’s choir and passed the age limit to be an altar boy, the older women in the congregation were starting to ask him if he was thinking of courting any young ladies soon. They probably had their granddaughters in mind; those copy and paste church-going girls who may not have much to offer but their doodled-in bibles and diamond cross necklaces passed down from generations of devoted Christians. George always declined any offer politely, giving a gentle caress of the old women’s hands and a sweetheart parting before making his escape. He was a gentleman. Always. In action and in appearance. You had never seen him without his ironed collared button-ups done up to the very top button and tucked neatly into smooth khakis and finished with a pair of perfectly polished dress shoes. He was hardly real. He never had even a hair out of place. 

It was no surprise that you found yourself slowly falling for him over the years as you grew into your late teenage years and into your early twenties together. You weren’t friends and honestly you hardly spoke to him but the stories that your mind created certainly seemed to make up for that missing piece. 

He sat in the front row of the church every Sunday with his mother and his siblings as his father addressed the congregation and read the scripture. Despite the stories and prayers that filled the agenda, your eyes would be locked on the back of the youngest son’s head more intently than anything else. George paid close attention to each prayer, delivered each response effortlessly, and always took his spot on the altar to help his father with the blessing of the sacrament. He was perfection and you swore he himself had a shiny yellow ring of light hovered above his head at every given moment, just like the statue of Jesus hanging on the crucifix behind the altar. He was heavenly. 

As a devout Christian, you took the word of the Lord seriously, and more so once your little infatuation with the pastor’s son only grew - you did want to impress him after all. With nightly prayers and a chapter of the bible before bed, you were sure to soak in each word into your memory and it filled your chest with warmth and spirit. 

But it was only a matter of time before your mind started to drift from the words on the pages of the bible in front of you and formed thoughts that you were not proud of. It was a downhill slope from that first night you happened to think a little too hard about the way George’s shirt hugged his torso at the community volunteer afternoon. Your hands nearly itched with desire to take it off him in front of everyone although alone in your room that night, you had the privacy of only your conscience. And God. 

They only got worse day by day, to the point where sitting in a stuffy church listening to Pastor Steve drone on was the breaking point. George caught your attention again, sitting perfectly in the front row of the congregation with his fluffy brown hair styled neatly and his button up ironed free of any creases. You just wanted to rip the buttons off and get him out of it, feel him breathing air into your lungs from his supple pink lips pushed with yours, and straddle his lap with your skirt hiked up until you could feel his-

“Amen.”

The chorus of the church goers around you startled you shamefully out of your thoughts. George, eight pews ahead of you, stood from his spot and walked up to the altar to kneel on the bottom step as if to show off to you how his slacks hugged his bum favourably. He then performed the sign of the cross before ascending the few steps to assist his father with the offering like every Sunday. His hair was a bit longer now and was swooped back from his forehead in light brown waves that almost never moved out of place. The expression on his face was solemn and professional as he worked quietly. 

You were sure you were the apple in the garden of Eden, poisoned by the Devil, as you imagined George bending you over the altar and that white linen tablecloth embroidered with crosses. You may have felt poisoned with sin, although George was undoubtedly your forbidden fruit. He was tempting and you were convinced this was God testing you and your devotion. 

Purity was of vital importance after all. 

You couldn’t believe the thoughts that flashed through your mind despite the promise of abstinence you had made from the moment of your first communion more than a decade earlier. Sex was to be between you and your husband, married in the church and under God, not between you and the pastor’s son. 

You couldn’t book a confessional soon enough. 

Your time was on a Wednesday afternoon with one of the secondary priests from the church which meant you had to endure three full days of sinful thoughts that seemed to have made a comfortable home in your mind. It pushed a strong warm ache between your legs, a feeling you had never experienced before, and you laid flat out on your bed each night and stared at the ceiling as you let the sensations overtake you to the thoughts of George and every gorgeous part of him. 

Touching yourself was a sin - that fact had been engraved into you from a young age even if you didn’t know what it meant at first. Yet, laying on your bed with the images of what George looked like under his Sunday best had your hand shyly slipping down your body. You were going to confessional the next day after all which would undo anything you subjected yourself to before that. Right? 

You were sure he could treat you so well. He was nothing less than an absolute gentleman after all and your heart raced at the thought of him taking your virginity and making sweet passionate love to you right in your very bed. All you could get yourself to do was cup your hand over the front of your panties, squeezing your thighs together to the thought of him in their place. George was a good boy...an angelic young man...and the flush of your face only rose with guilt at the thought of you wanting to deflower him as he did you. It was so terribly wrong and so terribly sinful but you craved nothing more than all of him. 

You went to sleep unfulfilled; too shameful to really even do anything to yourself apart from thinking about what he was hiding under those pressed slacks of his well into your dreams. 

The church was nearly silent when you arrived for your confessional the next morning and you could hardly make your way across the wood floors quick enough, desperate to repent the sins that had weaseled into your consciousness over the last few weeks. The empty hall echoed the click of your heels against the flooring as you hurried along the side wall towards the two thin doors. One was under the small illuminated light indicating the priest was on the other side waiting for your arrival. You slunk through your door and closed it behind you to take your seat in the cramped and dimly lit confessional booth, smoothing your knee length plaid skirt around you. 

There was only silence and the lingering scent of some sort of blessing you were sure but you hurriedly clasped your hands together, took a deep breath, did the sign of the cross, and spoke as strongly as you could, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

There was a pause before the priest responded plainly, “Explain.” 

“I have had terrible thoughts this last week or so. Terrible, disgusting thoughts. I am so ashamed of myself and I don’t know how to stop them.” you rushed out, trying not to stare at the dark coloured metal mesh screen that separated you. You could only see his shadow on the other side in the dim lighting of the confessional booth. 

“What thoughts?”

His voice was calm and serene, sounding as if you were speaking to God Himself right then and there. You let yourself trust in the man on the other side. He was there to help you after all. Your hands wrung together on your lap as you tried to piece together the descriptions of your sins without being too vile. 

“My mind has been constantly wandering to impure thoughts of Pastor Steve’s youngest son. They’ve only been getting worse and worse and...they’ve been appearing in my dreams. I have been trying to turn away the obvious temptation of the Devil but, my goodness, I don’t think I can anymore.”

“What thoughts? Explain them.”

“I...don’t know.”

The pause that lingered in the stuffy wood panelled booth seemed to urge the answers out on your own accord without any more prompting,

“I’ve been dreaming of him taking me to bed outside of wedlock.” you spoke softly, staring at your hands folded neatly on your lap as you spilled your confession through the screen, “Or even...taking me right here in this church after Sunday mass...tainting the blessedness of the altar or the pews and filling the church with our moans until-”

You cut yourself off as soon as you realized your tangent had started to stray back to more filth than confession. 

“Until the Lord could hear you in Heaven?” he spoke from the other side. 

“Yes.” you breathed, bowing your head in near shame. Your heart was racing in your chest and you rubbed your palms against the material of your skirt. “It sounds so wrong yet somehow...it makes me feel so good.”

“Have you touched yourself?”

The question from the other side of the screen was blunt and your cheeks flushed in near shameful embarrassment, “No. I managed to avoid that temptation for the most part although it seemed to be difficult. Father, I’m sure the Devil has tried to sway me from God and I am frightened as to what I will become if this goes on any longer.”

“You cannot avoid your urges.” he spoke seriously.

“But it’s sinful-”

“That’s why we have confessional...so you can redeem yourself to the Lord no matter what you have done...how many times you have done it...or how many times you sit in this very church and fantasize about being fucked like a little whore by the pastor’s son.”

The vulgar language coming through the screen was enough to startle you silent although the moment the small screen was tugged open and George’s face stared back at you from the other side was enough to rip the air from your lungs. Eyes wide and heart nearly in your stomach, you felt almost lightheaded at the sight of him smirking back at you. He eyed your blushing cheeks down to your collared shirt embroidered with the church name on the left breast and the skirt that you clutched the hem of in your clammy hands. 

George’s eyes raised back to yours and he licked his lips but didn’t do much to hide his smirk, “I think we ought to do something about those sinful thoughts, hm?” 

You couldn’t word an answer in your shock, stumbling out a panicked, “I thought...I scheduled for Wednesday at 1-”

George chuckled softly and raised a lit joint to his lips on the other side of the open screen and took a long drag before pulling it back between thumb and forefinger, “It’s Tuesday, angel.” 

He exhaled, pouring clouds of smoke into your side of the confessional booth which had obviously been the source of the scent you had assumed was some sort of aromatic blessed offering. Obviously, you had been mistaken over a few things that afternoon. The fact that the young man expressing nothing but God’s image was smoking weed while hidden away in the confessional booths startled you greatly, almost more than your mixup of dates. 

George’s gaze lingered on yours, your frightened eyes unmoving from his prideful ones. He raised the drug to his lips again and his eyebrow peaked in your direction as the silence that filled the smokey air between you felt more tense than ever. Yet, you didn’t seem to make any move to escape the stuffy enclosure of the closet-sized windowless booth. 

George spoke sultrily, smoke tumbling from his lips as he did so, “Lust is one of the seven deadly sins…I’m sure you’re well aware of that?”

“Yes, sir.” you answered before you could think. The crimson of your cheeks only darkened at the title that left your mouth without a thought. 

His lips tugged at the corner into a small smirk and leaned his forearms onto his knees to comfortably stare at you from the other side of the small screen. You couldn’t see much more than just his face through the small opening in the metal mesh and the shadows that filled the dimly lit confessional booth made it nearly impossible to read his expression. 

“You must give in to your sin in order to be cleansed properly. Confession is the first step. I am more than willing to help relieve you of your lust if you will have me.” 

“You don’t have to d-“

“I want to.” 

His answer was almost too quick. 

“And, frankly, angel,” he paused to take another inhale of the drug before breathing it tauntingly out into the air between you, “I think I need to.” 

George stamped out the joint onto the wrought iron ledge of the open screen and tucked it into the pocket of his pants as he stood. The height of the opening only had his belt buckle and front zip of his chinos in view, right in front of your face, and despite the fact that you had initially come to be cleansed of your sins, the thoughts that swirled around your mind were enough to make your mouth water. 

In only a second, he bent back down to look at you through the screen, “Well? Come on then.” 

His gorgeous face disappeared just as quickly and the dark closet sized room was illuminated by the bright light of the airy church just beyond the doors as he stepped out. Your eyes squinted slightly in the sudden change, from the reminisce of the smoke that was left behind, and the fact that you were sure you were dreaming. Even if you were, it was a dream you did not want to wake up from.

You opened the thin door in front of you and stepped back out into the open church to the relief of cool air compared to how suffocating it had gotten in the confessional booths. The large stained glass windows shone sparkling rays of coloured light across the wood floors and empty pews but the true beauty of the space was truly taken by the man in front of you. With his back to you, you admired him shamefully in a white button up tucked into his cuffed chinos; his initial appearance was that of any Sunday mass. When he turned around from where he had grabbed his leather jacket off one of the pews, you noticed how unbuttoned his shirt really was - almost completely open - and a cross pendant rested easily against his tanned chest. 

Just the way he looked at you made the air disappear from your lungs and your knees to nearly go weak. He was a marble statue in and of himself. 

George pulled on his leather jacket over his shirt and adjusted the collar, “Ready?”

“Where are we going?” you asked almost innocently, following behind him like a shy puppy as he led the way towards the front of the church. 

“I’m taking you somewhere better than those stuffy confessional booths.” George answered plainly. His pace was quick as if he were nearly in a rush and part of you felt a little guilty for interrupting whatever he had been doing that day for your meaningless spiritual chores. 

“I should text my parents to tell them I’m not coming home for a bit then?”

It came out more of a question than a statement, your nervous voice quiet through the back hall of the church and George navigated the thin passageways past the basement stairs and the few offices with ease. 

“Definitely.” he agreed. 

“Where should I tell them I am?”

His sudden stop had you nearly crashing into him with a small “oh” in surprise. George stared back at you right at the back door of the church, a soft tug of a smile present on his supple lips. 

“Do you tell your parents everything, angel?” 

His question seemed a bit more judgy than you had anticipated and your cheeks only rouged under his intimidating blue eyes. 

“No.”

You didn’t sound too believable to even yourself so you added a just as accusatory, 

“Does your father know you smoke weed in his church?”

George scoffed, “What do you think?”

“I think I was surprised.”

George turned to face you completely and he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, “Why were you surprised?”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your stand against him, “you just seem like an angel yourself. Figured you didn’t get up to that kinda stuff.” 

“That kinda stuff? Like what? Drugs? Drinking? Sex?”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his sinful half-confessions and you tried not to pine it to jealousy in terms of the last one. You crossed your arms yourself to mirror him, “Yeah. Makes you look like nothing more than a liar now.”

“Does that turn you off your little filthy crush on me, angel?” George taunted, tilting his head to the side. 

His blunt expression of the secret you had nearly forgotten you had exposed to him had you stumbling over your response, your flustered self only making him smile wider at you. He stepped closer and raised his right hand up to brush his finger along your jaw, his warm touch shooting shivers down your spine and your lungs desperately pulled in oxygen as his eyes bore into yours. 

“I still carry the word of the Lord, you know. I have been the best altar boy in the entirety of this church’s history, most reliable volunteer for Sunday School and Pancake Breakfasts, and the most respectful and devoted Christian this congregation has ever seen. I am my father and Our Father’s honest pride and joy, and as long as I confess to my sins like routine, I will always have a place in Paradise.”

His finger tapped the end of your nose to punctuate his little speech. 

“So I think I ought to show you how it’s done, don’t you think, angel?”

You could only nod, falling into putty in his hands as he cradled your jaw with his ring clad right hand. His purity ring. Was he really as sinful as he claimed to be? Maybe it was naive of you but you were a bit hesitant after his seemingly so blunt confession to you. 

“Yeah.” George chuckled darkly as his eyes stared at your lips. “God doesn’t want you to deprive yourself of the pleasures of life, angel. He just wants you to be able to reflect and acknowledge the filth of the acts and still respect Him. He wouldn’t make it feel so good if it was so wrong. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir.” you stumbled out. 

George swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and tugged at his gently before stepping back towards the exit door, “Good girl.”

You were drawn after him like instinct, like some natural pheromone was luring you out the back doors of the church and across the alleyway in his wake. Your thumbs typed an excuse to your parents, the phone almost unrecognizable in your hand, and somehow trusted him enough to not walk you into oncoming traffic. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were startled by the motorcycle standing beside the back fence and with wide eyes you watched as he swung a leg over and pulled on his helmet. 

George grabbed the second helmet and held it out towards you casually. He eyed your startled face before speaking cockily, “What? The bible says nothing about motorcycles being a sin, does it?”

A small smile played at your lips and you took the black helmet from him, “No. I suppose not.” 

Proudly, George cocked his head, “Climb on.”

You secured the strap under your chin and then helped yourself to the small back seat of the metallic black bike, swinging your leg over daintily in an attempt to keep your skirt from riding up too much. Your innocent hesitation was nearly comical to him as you held your hands shyly on your lap, hesitant to touch him as if he was a holy artifact. 

George reached back and grabbed your wrists in his large hands to tug your arms around his waist, “Hold on tight now, angel.” 

You hid your bashful smile against his shoulder and smelling the fading scent of leather along with his intoxicating rustic cologne that surrounded him. With a kick of the engine, the motorcycle rumbled to life and you grabbed your own wrists around his middle in nervous fear as he pushed off the pavement and headed off into the street. 

The late summer breeze ruffled through your hair that peeked out the end of the helmet and once you reached the main road, riding on the back of a motorcycle didn’t seem so terrifying. You still weren’t quite sure where he was taking you but you felt yourself trusting him entirely, especially with how good he looked right in front of you. With your cheek pressed close to his shoulder, your eyes struggled to watch your surroundings as they focused on his hands on the clutch and how the muscles in his hands clenched with each acceleration. You weren’t sure how you had fallen for him so strongly without knowing he drove a motorcycle but it was a far too attractive surprise now. 

As your nervousness melted into trust, you let your grip loosen on your wrists and you set your hands gently against his stomach as discreetly as you could. George noticed but you couldn’t see his smirk from where you sat behind him and he didn’t make a move to stop you. With careful hands, you savoured the feeling of taut muscle below the soft thin material of his white button up under your palms. You swore you could feel abs and you couldn’t help but slide your hand up higher to shamelessly try and feel more of him. 

Your front was pressed right up against his back and you never wanted to let him go. You had dreamt about holding him like that for far too long and innocent or not, you only craved him more. That ache was back between your legs and the steady rumble of the engine and the warmth of George’s body had your skin flushing warm. You were all too attuned to it now. 

Off the main road and down a side street lined in trees like picture perfect suburbia, George drove his bike into the driveway of a nicely trimmed brick house and parked it by the back garage. You held onto him a moment longer, feeling as though if you let go you would never be blessed with the touch of his body ever again. With your hands pressed flat to his torso and cheek resting against his stiff shoulder, you squeezed him tighter in your embrace. It happened before you could even let the idea graze your thoughts: your hips rubbing up slightly against his denim clad bum sat right in front of you. 

“Angel,” George chuckled lowly as he set his right hand over top of both of yours against his stomach, “that’s so filthy.”

You stopped quickly at his acknowledgment, hiding your blushing face against his shoulder, and tried to pry your hands out of his grip. He held you in place and spoke to you over his shoulder, 

“You’re horny, aren’t you, angel?”

“I dunno.” you mumbled. 

“Yeah, you do.” he encouraged, holding your hands tighter when you tried to tug them away again. His feet on the pavement kept the motorcycle steady in the driveway of his family home. He was already in control. “You can tell me.”

You rested your forehead against his back. 

“Give into your sin, angel.” George sang quietly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I really…I would really like you to touch me.” you whispered. 

“Yeah? Good girl.” George praised softly. 

You hummed in gentle agreement, rutting your hips up against his bum again to try and find some sort of pressure that eased the ache between your legs. George reached behind him with his left hand and grabbed your hip to stop you. 

“Not here, angel.” he glanced down towards the street, “Inside. Now.” 

You almost tripped over yourself getting off the motorcycle and George reached out a hand to steady you as you caught your footing on the pavement of his driveway. With the keys in hand and the helmets tucked away, George let you up the back porch steps and into the back door when he unlocked it. The house was silent and you stepped into the prime example of a country rustic kitchen that was nearly spotless apart from the small messy stack of dishes in the sink. There was a decal sign above the pantry reading “God is Good” and you swallowed your nervous shame. 

George grabbed your arm and nudged you towards the hallway, “Get upstairs.” 

“Where’s your family?” you asked as you followed his instruction without question. 

George tailed you quickly down the wood floor hallway to the foyer and right up to the straight run wood stairs, “Siblings are moved out and parents are on a mission trip until Friday.”

The privacy that lingered had your stomach flipping with an indescribable feeling. George was the image of God and angel of a young man to everyone in town and part of you still believed that to be the truth, even if his smooth talk and one-off smoking of a joint seemed to go against everything you once thought of him. After weeks and months of dreaming of him and nothing else, climbing the stairs of his house felt like a hazy hallucination. Was this real?

You stopped at the top of the stairs in a beige painted hallway lined with closed doors, wondering which passage would lead you to the ease of your conscience and the confession of your sins. George stopped beside you and his hand dusted along the small of your back, his face only centimetres from yours as he stared at you in the muted light of his empty house. 

“You look so cute in your Sunday School uniform, angel.” George whispered against your ear, his hand sliding lower over the back of your plaid skirt. “Like such an innocent little flower.”

Your pussy nearly throbbed at the lust in his voice and your natural physical reaction to him took you by surprise. These feelings and these thoughts were so new and kept deep in uncharted territory you had no clue what to do next. 

George seemed to know though as he led you to the first door on the left and guided you into his bedroom. It was anything you’d see out of some sort of parent design magazine from the standard little-boy-blue walls to dark wood furniture and a matching accented duvet draped on the double bed across from the door. His bookshelves framing the window to the left were filled with simple novels - nothing fantasy or magic of course, that was never allowed - and the empty spots were filled with little figurines. Said figurines were those of religious icons, likely given at a first communion or baptism by grandparents or distant relatives, as well as picture frames holding family portraits or bible quotes in calligraphy. 

Your eyes soaked up his room that you had only pictured in your mind since you first laid eyes on him and yet seeing it in person just fit his angel boy persona that he expressed so well. A perfect little church boy down to the few study books stacked neatly on the corner of his desk and his bible resting front and center alongside a small row of various coloured highlighters. 

Of course he was someone to highlight his favourite lines of scripture. 

The click of the door shutting behind you drew your gaze back to him and he stepped closer to you, standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom. So childhood that there was still a white painted piece of plywood on his wall marking his growth over the years tick by tick on the makeshift ruler topped with his name in neat blue font. He was much taller than the growth chart now, his name now only reaching his shoulder, and it was a simple fact you seemed to hang onto. His bedroom was as flawless as his Sunday persona. 

George only stepped closer and you habitually stepped away until you backed into his desk with a soft gasp, eyes unmoving from his. He raised his hand up and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, “Have you ever kissed anyone before, angel?”

“No.” you breathed. 

“No, what?” he pressed gently. 

“N-No…sir.” you tried. 

George only smiled politely at you, the same smile he offered the neighbours at Sunday mass, but the scheming lust in his eyes was unmissable. Even to you. 

“Kissing isn’t a sin.” he reminded you softly, his fingers stroking along your jaw and down the side of your neck until shivers rose in his wake. “You won’t even have to confess it.” 

You had already formed a slight attachment to his lips over the weeks, always admiring how pretty they were, so full and soft and pink. Kissing him was the least shameful of your daydreams and your heart pounded in your chest at how close he was standing to you, waiting for the moment he would allow your dreams to come true. Your hands gripped the edge of his desk behind you, wide eyes staring at his pretty face mere centimetres from yours, but you didn’t dare move away. 

“You can touch me, angel.” George offered gently. “I won’t break.”

It was as if he read your mind, had sensed your innermost desires to hold more of him than when only on the back of his bike, and you slowly raised your right hand from the desk to set against his chest. His button up was still mostly unbuttoned and the smooth skin of his chest was grazed by your fingertips nervously. The simplest touch felt like fire was trailing up your arm and setting your insides ablaze in fierce anticipation. 

You didn’t even notice you were breathing so heavily until he made the air in your lungs stop as he stepped even closer and dusted his lips across your cheek. Your hand tightened on the open edge of his shirt as he pressed a feather soft kiss to your cheek and then moved slowly to the corner of your mouth to leave another. You were shuttering with anticipation and you let your head turn towards him slowly to finally feel his lips against your own. 

There was a pause as you stood motionless for a moment and shared a single chasté kiss between you. With pink cheeks, you pulled back with a gentle little smack and bowed your head shyly, leaving your hand resting against his open shirt. 

But George easily tilted your head back up by a finger under your chin and slotted his lips with yours, trapping your bottom lip between his two. Your legs nearly gave out right then and there, letting a soft surprised hum fall from your throat as you let your mind wrap around this situation. It was addicting and his lips tasted like the sweetest poison, luring you in for more when he pulled back for a half second. 

Your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder and around the back of his neck, letting him lead your passionate kisses but you followed along eagerly. His lips felt as soft and supple as they looked, even better than you had imagined them, although you had never imagined that kissing would set such a fire in your stomach and deep between your legs. The feeling of his warm tongue swiping over your bottom lip had you shuttering and he cradled your face in his hand as he parted your lips with his own and tilted his head to the left a little more. 

You couldn’t help but let your other hand rise to his shoulder too, draping both arms around him to keep him close as if you never wanted him to part from you. It was too good, he was too good, and the innocence that coursed through you saw nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with the way he held you and kissed you and the way his tongue finally pushed against yours. 

The room was perfectly silent apart from your messy slow kisses and the muffled pleasant hums that you both shared, craving for more of each other. George’s hand caressed your face and his other rested politely at your hip over your plaid skirt. There was a bit of distance between you and as his tongue and yours pushed together effortlessly, you only craved his touch more. With nervous hands, you slid your fingertips down his chest and over his open leather jacket to the hem of his jeans. You had no idea what you were doing but all you knew was that you needed more and you linked your fingers in his belt loops and shyly pulled him closer to your body. 

George chuckled softly into your mouth, biting teasingly on your bottom lip as he stepped closer with his legs staggered with yours, and tilted his head the other way to kiss you more. The warmth of his face against yours was addicting in itself and you found yourself arching into him as your body pulsed behind the material of your skirt. You held his body against yours by his two front belt loops as if trying to keep him from moving away for even a second, welcoming his hands down your neck and along the collar of your own white buttoned shirt. 

“Let me see you.” George whispered into your mouth between slowing kisses as his fingers started to blindly unbutton your shirt, “I want to appreciate God’s masterpiece for myself.” 

His words had you blushing and you shifted your arms to let him push the scratchy white material from your shoulders and discarded it to the ground. In only a blush pink lace bra underneath, George tried to move back to admire you but your lips chased his pleadingly. He smiled against your mouth between off centered kisses as his fingers raised to the tiny white bow resting between your breasts and he tugged gently at it. 

“You’re so cute, angel.” he whispered, pausing to kiss your lips a few more times, “So pretty.” 

You tugged at his belt loops again to urge him closer and your tongue nudged its way ungracefully into his mouth enough to have him groaning softly. His hands grabbed at your waist greedily and you let him press his body flush against yours and the slight bump in his jeans that pressed against your thigh had your heart skipping a beat. 

“Can’t believe such a sweet looking little lady has such salacious thoughts about me. Succumbing to lust so easily.” his thumbs pressed into your hips like wet cement, his hands massaging your waist until you were easing into his touch more and more. 

“George.” you breathed. 

“Ah, ah.” he corrected coolly. 

“Sir.” you tried. 

His chuckle stemmed from nothing but desire and it had your pussy fluttering with need for his touch. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and he soothed it with a lick before grabbing your wrists and led you a few short steps away from his desk and to the centre of his room.

“What are you thinking about right now, angel?” George tried, standing in front of you with his large hands holding your own in a tender grip, his eyes unmoving from your face even as you only stared at his tempting lips. 

“I dunno.” you mumbled out. 

“You had some things to say when you were in that confessional booth. I believe you’re thinking lots more than you’re letting on.” George pressed. His thumbs rubbed over your knuckles back and forth tauntingly, “Are you thinking those dirty thoughts again?”

You nodded. 

“Yeah? Are you thinking about what my cock looks like?”

You inhaled shakily, eyelids nearly fluttering. You couldn’t lie to him. You couldn’t lie to the pastor’s son, not when he was a direct link to God. “Yeah.”

George smiled knowingly at you but you couldn’t meet his gaze, “Good girl...don’t want you lying now. I need to know everything so we can properly cleanse you of your sins. Leave no stone unturned, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, that’s my good angel.” George raised his hand to stroke his thumb across your flushed cheek, “Now tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, “I just want you to do whatever you want to me.” 

“I’m going to have to work your desires and your sins out of you then, won’t I?” George pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the ground in front of his closet before starting to unbuckle his belt, “Kneel before sir and open your filthy mouth. I’ll cleanse you and then we can really get started.”

You hesitated, glancing down to the hardwood floor beneath your feet, “Right here?”

“Yes. You know how to kneel, angel, I’ve seen you do so during mass.” George retorted. 

“But there’s usually a cushioned kneeler.” you argued softly. 

“There won’t be cushioned kneelers in hell, angel, and that’s where you’re going if you don’t work with me here.” George warned, his voice dripping in warning, “Now kneel.”

You did. 

Eye level with his belt buckle, you watched as he unpinned it and then unbuttoned his jeans and dragged down the small zipper. You were barely looking at anything and your mouth was already watering, sitting on your knees patiently as he pushed his jeans down his thighs. The bulge in the front of his snug underwear had your mouth opening habitually and you rose up from sitting back on your ankles to kneeling right in front of him, hands finding his thighs as your mind whirled. 

George set his finger under your chin and guided your head up to look at his face. He then pinched your cheeks to pry open your mouth and he leaned down to let a thick string of spit fall into your waiting mouth. You couldn’t hold in the hungry moan that died at your lips as your tongue accepted his blessing and he smeared his spit across your lips with the pad of his thumb. You were so focused on his face that you didn’t even notice his other hand shoving down his boxers to rest at his knees with his jeans, not until his hand that cradled your chin moved to the back of your head and urged you down. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick right in your face, unlike anything you had made up in your imagination or from the scientific drawings in religiously censored textbooks. Was it at all sane of you to say it was beautiful? He was beautiful. He was already hard and had the slightest curve to his thick impressive length with his pretty rounded tip swollen a gentle rouged pink, peeking out behind a thin protection of foreskin. Your thighs clenched together in lustful desire, the mixture of your spit dripping from your bottom lip onto his bedroom floor. 

Despite the obvious dominant nature of the pastor’s youngest son who now stood in front of you half nude, he let you take your time to process what was happening. You moved your hand out first, glancing up at him for permission and he nodded you on, hiking up the bottom of his button-up out of your way as he watched you wrap your fingers around the base of his dick. It was warm and you whimpered softly. 

“Open up those pretty lips, angel.” George said gently. 

You followed his instruction. 

“Tongue out.” 

When you let your tongue slip past your parted lips, another string of spit dripped onto the floor. George held his hand to the back of your head and used his other to feed his dick into your mouth slowly. It was heavy against your tongue and you stared up at him with your heart racing in your chest as he pulled your head down in slow time. It was a strange sensation, having your mouth stuffed with dick until you had no choice but to breathe through your nose, unable to speak. He tasted slightly salty and so perfectly soft and warm you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed as he helped himself to your mouth. 

“Good girl.” George spoke down to you lowly. He moved his hand back to his shirt to hold it up out of the way and you took his place around his dick with your own hand, kneeling still as you got used to the unfamiliar feeling. 

Your spit was leaking down his length and slicked up your hand that held him snugly, letting you move smoothly as you pulled back with your mouth, sucking gently to keep from drooling too much. That only had him groaning and his fingers laced through your hair as he watched you suck lazily at the tip like he was nothing more than an innocent lollipop to give you your sugar fix. You craved him just as strongly after all. 

George unbuttoned the last two buttons on his shirt and let the sides drape open to let himself have two hands free to pull your hair back from your face. With his bottom lip between his teeth and his dark stare angled down at you over the bridge of his nose, he pulled your mouth down around him deeper once more. You gagged softly as he filled up your mouth and nudged against the back of your throat, your hands gripping onto his thighs tightly. 

“Yeah, this is how we take care of that sinful little mouth of yours.” George spoke sternly down to you, pulling you back by your hair to show you the rhythm he wanted you to mimic. 

You could only moan softly in agreement, drooling down your chin with how delicious he was as he took up your mouth more and more once again. You never imagined it being so physically filthy with how wet it was, your hand and your mouth smeared in spit and tears pricking your eyes as you dropped down on him again, gagging yourself gladly. 

“You’re such a good girl.” George praised from above you. 

He had the perfect view too, staring down at you on your knees for him like he was yours to worship, you in your pretty little bra that pushed up your breasts like plush heaven and plaid skirt draped politely over your lap. Not to mention his dick in your mouth, feeling how warm and wet you were, drooling for him, moaning for him, sucking him with honest innocence that just made it so much hotter. You were a virgin and that fact only made him want to ruin you. 

It sounded so incredibly hot, the mix of the wet muffled gags of your mouth and the soft whimpers that vibrated from your throat, only urging him to grip your hair tighter and pull you deeper. Your hands splayed pathetically against his thighs, desperate to hold onto something, choking hard on him as he pushed himself down your throat. Your gargling gags had his head falling back with a deep groan, his fingers tugging at your hair to speed you up, using your mouth in sloppy motions. 

You didn’t protest, letting the tears stream down your cheeks and the spit drip onto the material of your skirt over your lap, trying to keep up with him just to please him. Your eyes blinked up at him, staring up his body to his face scrunched up in pleasure and that silver cross pendant resting between his pecs. It moved slightly with each jagged breath he took, taunting you, reminding you that God is always watching. 

Just thinking, He was watching you at that very moment, George’s dick balls deep in your mouth; the same mouth that had earlier tried to ask for forgiveness from Him. That was in no way the act of you being forgiven. How did you get there? 

Despite the shame that was lingering in your stomach, you couldn’t get yourself to stop, drunk on the taste of him and the concept of worshiping his body the way you had only ever dreamt about. Your hands dug your nails into his thighs, bobbing your head faster down his whole length despite how your throat constricted and gagged. 

“That’s it, angel-” George panted, “Ah, you’re doing so good.”

It felt so wrong but his words sounded so good. He was as tempting as the forbidden fruit and there was no going back now; confessions had already been said. You wanted all of him. 

His left hand dropped to your cheek and he tugged at your cheek with the pad of his thumb, “Mm, you’re being so good for me. Taking it so well. Look at you.”

Your hand moved from his thigh to the base of his dick, holding him still as your mouth worked for you and his grip in your hair helped you along. George groaned steadily as you sped up, choking yourself on him harder and faster and he twitched in your mouth. 

“Fuck, angel-” his words were dripping lust, each syllable lengthened in the most addicting way until you wanted to hear him moan for you and praise you forever. If this was so frowned upon then - he was right - why did it feel so good? And to think, you hadn’t even been touched yourself. 

George was getting loud, moaning and breathing hard as his hands stayed tangled in your hair that had once been hairsprayed perfectly for confession. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth until you were wrapping your hand around him to stroke him off, seemingly unable to get enough of him. What George had on his mind though, was nothing less than fixing you and the fact that you still had your penance to uphold. 

His left hand gave your hair a good tug, yanking your head back until his dick pulled from your mouth with a filthy pop and you gasped in surprise, coughing and sputtering for air. He held you in place by your hair, smearing the tip of his cock against your glistening lips but didn’t give you the satisfaction of putting it back in against your tongue. 

You whined pleadingly, trying to pull out of his stiff grip to take him back in your mouth, “Sir, please.”

George was adamant on his decision, his free hand stroking over his cock in quick rapid flicks of his wrist, “Sinners don’t get the pleasure of swallowing.” 

Your hands held onto his thighs, eyes unable to choose between looking at his face or his throbbing dick right in front of you. His bedroom welcomed the filthy wet slick sound of his hand working himself off like it was habit, his breathing falling shallower by the second, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. You looked so eager and innocent that it didn’t take him long to finish, catching that last glimpse of your doe eyes and parted lips before the first shot of warm sticky cum streaked across your cheek. 

His moans were like angels singing, setting your body on fire as he covered your face in filthy white ribbons of sin. You looked like a heavenly mess, pink cheeks streaked in tears and cum and spit still dripping from your chin until he was completely finished. George smeared some of it over your lips with the tip of his dick and let you earn your first taste of him right from the source, blessed by the fruit of his holy garden. 

He watched you lick your lips, eyes staying closed with the shots that had stained up to your eyelashes and into your hair, and then he grabbed the edge of his open shirt and wiped your face clean. You couldn’t bite back your fulfilled smile well enough, swiping your hand across your cheek and licking off the remanence of his pleasure with an eager tongue. 

“Where are your manners, angel?” George tisked. 

“Thank you, sir.” you whispered up at him, still perched sweetly on your knees in front of him as you sucked on your finger, “You taste so good.” 

“Are you still thinking disgusting little thoughts?” he asked. 

“More than ever.” you admitted softly. 

George’s hand grabbed your cheeks to keep you looking up at him and then slid down just enough to wrap his fingers around your throat, “Like what?”

“Like wanting you to touch me so fucking bad.” you whispered. 

“Watch your mouth, angel.” George scolded. “Swearing is a sin. You know that.” 

“Sorry, sir.” you breathed. 

George grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet in front of him before turning you around and shoved you forward over the end of his bed. You tried to move but he held you down by the back of your neck and tossed up your skirt with his other hand, giving him room to spank you over your soft pink panties. You shrieked in surprise at the impact, fingers curling into his duvet as your feet stayed planted on the hardwood floor. 

“Hands flat on the bed. Arms straight.” George ordered. 

You were one to follow his instruction and did as told without complaint as he stripped out of his jeans and boxers to leave him only in his open button up and cross necklace. Bent over the end of his bed with your arms straight underneath you, you had a perfect view up to his headboard, right where a carefully carved wooden cross was hung on the blue painted wall above. 

“Oh my goodness.” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone. 

“You’re going to take your penance for your sins, angel?” George taunted, folding up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bum. 

It was worded like a question but it sounded more like a demand. You replied shakily, “Yes, sir.” 

He slapped his hand down hard against your skin and you bit down hard into your bottom lip behind a soft whimper at the sharp sting he left behind. 

“Yeah? We gotta get rid of those filthy disgusting devilish thoughts of yours. Make sure they’re gone for good.” 

There was a pause and you filled the momentary silence with a soft, “Yes, sir.” 

George’s hand grabbed your ass and kneaded your flesh in his palm, “You better ask for mercy, angel.”

The brown leather bound bible surprisingly stung a lot more than his hand—maybe from the emotional weight it carried with it—and you shrieked at the impact, hanging your head between your arms. He spanked you with it again, really pulling his arm back to hit you hard, leaving a blush pink shine to the curve of your flesh. 

“He’s listening.” George reminded you gently but sternly. 

“Forgive me, Father.” you hurried out before George spanked you hard again. “Oh God!” 

Another slap with the book. 

“Don’t use His name in vain.” George scolded. 

Tears pricked your eyes as he spanked you again, forcing a blubbery choked moan from your throat. So you used his name instead, “George, please. Touch me. Rid these shameful thoughts from my head.”

“What thoughts?” he urged you on. 

“It aches-“ you whimpered distractedly, reaching a hand down to press over the front of your panties. 

George spanked you hard once more with the bible before letting his hand slide between your legs. He nudged your fingers away as he took over, gliding back and forth over the thin sopping wet material and right up to your clit. 

“Right here, angel?” he asked soothingly. 

“Yes, sir.” you withered. 

“Yeah, does that feel good?” his fingers drew lazy circles in place that had you shivering. 

You stared down at his bed sheets, mouth agape, and gently pushed back on his hand, “Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve soaked your pretty little panties, angel.” George tisked softly, rubbing his fingers in long stripes back and forth over the fabric that covered your pussy, “No wonder you’re aching.” 

He was barely touching you but somehow it felt so much better than when you tried yourself. Your legs were almost trembling in desperate anticipation as he teased you over your underwear in feather soft touches and you let your eyes close to bask in it, bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Turn over, pretty girl.” George instructed. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be touched by the hands of God.” 

His cocky words did nothing but urge you on. You shifted around from your hands and knees so you were sitting on his bed facing him, eyeing up how he was only in his open button up and nothing else and holding the leather bound bible in hand. He was staring right back at you like a county fair prize from your flushed cheeks to your heaving chest and your thighs pressed snugly together. 

George tossed the bible back onto the desk behind him and then stepped up closer to the end of his bed where you were sat. He nudged up your skirt again and linked his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. Shyly, you kept your thighs pressed snugly together. No one had ever before seen you so exposed and as he started to undress you, you were filled with a sudden shyness. George greedily grabbed your knees and shoved your legs apart. 

“Spread your legs for me, angel. Let me see your pretty pussy.” George whispered. 

His vulgar words had your eyes widening but you obeyed him anyway, an embarrassed blush rising darker to your cheeks as you exposed yourself to him. The first man to see you like that, the first man to look at you in that light, and the way he licked his lips at the sight of you had you throbbing. 

“So natural.” George breathed, “So pure.” 

His stare was intimidating, big blue eyes trained in on your most intimate spot, a spot that you were raised to be protective of, shamed. You watched him closely, your chest heaving faintly in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction out of him as if you craved his validation. George’s large hands were warm against the flesh of your thighs as he pushed your legs apart wider and then nudged up the hem of your skirt around your waist to see you better. 

“The Lord took His time on you.” George said, his voice dripping with lust. “Now back up for me, angel.”

You shuffled farther onto his bed, keeping your legs spread how he left them, not wanting to go against any of his demands. He was helping you repent, after all, so you had to listen and obey. As you settled yourself near the centre of his double bed, George followed after you, kneeling in front of you on the mattress. He pulled his shirt from his shoulders and dropped the material to the floor without a look back, letting himself be exposed to your desire completely. 

The tattoo on his chest drew in your eyes right away, the black ink carefully forming the shape of the hands from The Creation of Adam right over his heart. God had created George in the same image as he had created Adam; perfect, raw, masculine, and ready to carry the word of the Lord. Although, both creations seemed just as eager to disobey their creator. 

The deadly sin of greed coursed through your veins as you tried to soak in each and every curve and angle of his body, that shameful warmth building a throbbing in the pit of your stomach that was hard to avoid. Without thinking, you breathed out a dreamy, “You’re so…beautiful.” 

“You think so?” George smiled cockily as he nudged your legs father open to kneel between. His fingers toyed with the little bow on the band of your bra right between your breasts.

You barely nodded in response before his hand was reaching around your back and unclipping your bra with expert precision. The lace was tossed to the ground and in a split second, his mouth took its place, covering you in wet open mouthed kisses across your breasts and over your hardening nipples. His hungry moan against your skin had your mouth falling open lazily, tangling one hand in his hair as he helped himself to your chest while your other held you up in the centre of his double bed.

You hadn’t anticipated this. For all you had been aware, the only thing to ever touch a woman’s chest was to be her baby for nourishment reasons and that alone. But then George was wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking on it with enough force to pull a gasp from your chest, your fingers snug in the back of his soft hair. Your soft gasp had him smirking and he shifted to your other breast, his teeth tugging playfully at your nipple while he raised one hand to knead the flesh of your chest, claiming you up until your chest had a light sheen of spit across it. 

“So good.” George mumbled, pulling off your breast with a wet suctioned pop. His fingers pinched both of your nipples as he shifted out from between your legs and settled at your side. 

You couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him, sighing pleasantly into it as his lips locked perfectly with yours in messy wet kisses. His hand raised to cradle your face, keeping you there for a moment longer as he bit at your bottom lip and tugged it back gently. He licked his way into your mouth between sloppy kisses, making you feel so incredibly salacious and wrong but in a way that still felt so good. It was dizzying. 

As he broke away from your kiss, his hand dropped down to your thigh, his gaze quickly following, and he pushed up the hem of your skirt over your spread legs. The cool air of his air conditioned bedroom against your soaked pussy made you shiver and you watched his fingers dance teasingly over your thigh. He traced the hem of your knee-high socks and then slid up higher, dipping along the soft skin of your inner thigh. So untouched and sensitive to his every graze. 

George was sitting so close at your side he barely needed to lean in to whisper against the shell of your ear, “I’m gonna show you how to touch yourself so when you’re thinking filthy little thoughts again, you can make that pestering little ache go away.”

“Please, sir.” you breathed, your voice quivering with desire. 

George chuckled softly and kept his steady strokes over your thigh, up and down, teasingly slow and taunting, and his words only matched it, “You’re gonna think of me touching you just like this, up your thighs and over your hips.”

His slender fingers followed the instruction of his words, dancing over your legs and up to your hips, teasing the bunched up fabric of your plaid skirt and down to the apex of your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, staring down at his hand, watching, anticipating. 

“And when you can’t take it anymore,” he whispered against your ear, “you’re going to push your pretty little fingers over your pussy.”

You could have shuddered at only his words but as you watched his hand slide down between your legs, your breath froze in your chest. He dragged painfully slow stripes down and back up again with two fingers, teasing every inch of your cunt right up to your clit and back down. Your eyebrows raised at the unfamiliar sensation, a shaky inhale pulled into your lungs, as your ears were attuned to the sticky wetness of your body just like that. 

“And when you’re nice and wet…like how you are now…you’re gonna touch your clit just like this,” George’s fingers pressing down against your most sensitive spot—the spot you had never had the courage to explore—had you jolting with a gasp but he hushed you against your ear with ease mid-thought, “don’t squirm, angel—and you’re gonna think of me while you do it.”

“George-“ you whimpered, staring down at his hand between your legs, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as he drew slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold in your soft, “Oh my God.”

“Louder, angel. He’s listening.” George whispered right under your ear, his breath hot against your neck. 

His fingers pulled quicker circles, forcing another trembling gasp from your throat as your body habitually tried to squirm away from the unfamiliar overwhelm and your thighs squeezed together. George easily shoved your legs open wider, staring right at your profile as he kept that consistent pace on your clit and you tried to stay spread for him. It felt insanely good, ripping hot warmth through every limb in your body, unlike anything you had ever felt before, until your mouth was dropping open and your eyes were nearly rolling back in your head. 

“S-Sir-“ you whimpered, holding yourself up on one hand as your other reached out for him beside you to grab onto something and ended up holding onto his cross pendant still draped between his pecs. 

“Is this what you wanted?” George taunted, pressing his fingers down harder on your clit in tighter circles, “Or did you want more?”

You nodded quickly, absolutely speechless with the realization of how good it felt and how long you had put it off. Watching his fingers intently, you could barely get yourself to make a sound, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to even know how to react. 

George stopped his circles and pinched your clit gently to make you squeal as he quoted scripture against your ear, “Ask, and it will be given to you. Matthew 7:7.”

“More. I want more. Gimme more.” you rushed out, dropping your hand from his necklace just long enough to urge his fingers lower, your insides physically aching for something else. 

“There’s a bit of greed coming in with your sinful little lust.” George chuckled, reminding you of the deadly sins you were committing, “At least have some manners, angel.”

“Please, sir.” you exhaled pleadingly, holding his hand down against your throbbing pussy. 

George shifted to sit behind you and tugged you close so you were resting back against his chest between his spread legs like you were his little dolly to play with. The embarrassment was overpowered by lustful desire and you didn’t even care how pathetic you looked with your flushed cheeks and heaving chest and legs hooking over his to leave yourself spread wide. George’s lips found your neck as he pulled your skirt up with his left hand and slid his right between your legs once more. 

“This likely won’t feel as good when you do it to yourself but since you wanted this so bad…I must help you to uphold your penance.” he said between slow kisses over your shoulder, his fingers slicking themselves up in your arousal that was dripping out of you and onto his duvet. Back and forth, back and forth. “Gonna give you what you want and rid those sinful thoughts from that pretty little head of yours.”

You could only spread your legs wider between his, trying to push your hips up against his painfully gentle touch, and his left hand raised from your skirt to grab onto your right breast snugly. He was nearly holding you in place that way and you stared down your body to his slender fingers teasing slow circles over your dripping cunt. There was no warning before he slid his middle finger entirely inside you. 

You gasped loudly, mouth fallen open, and your hands gripped onto his thighs on either side of you. George’s soft groan fell against your ear as he slowly started to pump his finger inside you, biting his lip at how tight you were around only a single digit. He had shamelessly taken many church girls’ virginities like that but none of them ever felt or sounded as good as you before he even got inside them properly. You were something else and he craved to savour each second. 

“Good girl.” he praised against your neck, leaving soft kisses over your skin, “Deep breaths, angel.”

You inhaled shakily and on the exhale he added his ring finger into the clutch of your warm wet walls. Your face scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch and your hand flew down to grab his wrist as if to stop him, but he only yanked your hand away with his other, gripping your wrist in his hand, and started pumping his two fingers inside you. 

Voice quivering, you whimpered out a strained, “Holy sh-shit-“ 

Despite your curse, George only smirked and curled his fingers steadily inside you, “Feels good doesn't it?”

“Yes, sir.” you whined, staring down at his hand between your legs that pumped inside you quickly to push the filthy wet squelching sounds of your body taking his invasion around his room. 

The black band on his right hand ring finger reflected the afternoon sunlight streaked in through the open window. The faint engraving of a cross and his three initials around the band caught your eye in the slight blur of his motions. GWR in small font, a good strong Christian name in first and middle, and now taken to deface your purity and the very symbol that the ring itself stood for. 

George held your arm around your body to keep you in place as his two fingers pushed stronger in and out of you, soaking themselves greedily in your arousal. You withered softly with the sweetest sounds, gripping his thigh with the hand he wasn’t pinning to your chest and watching him help himself to your body. He sped up quickly though, shoving his fingers into you in rapid motions, faster and faster. You moaned shakily, wincing through the unfamiliar stretch but letting your mouth fall open at how good it somehow felt. It was completely overwhelming and you tried to squeeze your legs together to ease some of the rush that was flooding over your body, panting for air and whining and squirming in his grip. 

“Shh, that’s it. Spread your legs, angel.” George praised softly, slowing down to let you open your legs again. He linked his ankles over yours to prevent you from closing your legs again and his fingers easily picked up the pace once more. They fucked into you quickly with an aggression that looked far more painful than it actually felt as his two slender fingers were simply pushing shots of indescribable pleasure through your body. 

“George!” you gasped, trying to move again but he held you down. You whimpered loudly, straining against his tight grip as he kept his fingers shoving quickly into you again and again, filling the room with the filthy wet sound of your pussy gladly taking his fingers. “S-Sir! Oh my God!” 

“Louder. He can hear you.” George spoke lowly against your ear, his own breathing slightly shallow as he fingered you faster. 

“Fuck!” you sobbed out, tossing your head back against his shoulder as your eyes screwed shut and toes started to curl in your socks. 

“Give into it, angel.” George breathed, his eyes focused on nothing but your face, the way your expression fell into ecstasy. His fingers ravaged your body, moving at such a great speed it could only be compared to the rapid flutter of angel wings.

When he let go of your arm, you immediately grabbed onto his thighs, digging your nails down through your trembling uncontrollable whimpers. His left hand then slid between your legs and pressed down on your clit to give you that greedy little bit of friction as his right hand ravished you at unbelievable speeds. 

“Oh my gosh! Oh my God!” you sobbed out, tossing your right arm up to grab onto his hair over your shoulder, tugging roughly at the roots and he groaned deliciously against your ear, setting your insides ablaze, “Fuck!” 

“Good girl.” George growled softly. 

“Oh fuck!” you swore to the ceiling, head tossed back against his bare shoulder as his fingers rammed into you harder, faster, more persistently. 

“Give into it. Don’t hold back.” George instructed behind the filthy wet smacks of his soaked fingers and palm meeting your dripping body. 

“What’s h-happening?” you cried shakily, your thighs starting to tremble and your skin flushed hot with pleasure. You felt tight all over, like your body was coiling in on itself. It felt like Satan had his hand on you, pulling you to some unimaginable place that you would never come back from. 

“You’re gonna cum, angel.” George whispered softly against your ear, keeping that same insane consistently rapid pace of his fingers, his voice sounding almost echoey against your ear as he reassured you, “Give into the pleasure.”

Your muscles were tightening around his fingers and you were getting dizzy with overwhelm, feeling every single inch of his slender fingers buried deep inside you contrasted by the cool metal of his ring that pushed against your warm lips with each rough thrust of his hand. You couldn’t stop shaking, moaning and whimpering so loudly that you were lucky his house was empty, and you tugged at his hair and his thigh for some hint of solace. 

“George!” you cried, “George! Sir-”

Your heels dug into the sheets beneath you, trying to push your trembling body away from his overwhelming touch. He gripped you by your hips tighter as your legs physically shook, holding you down on his hand as he fucked his fingers into you faster, relentlessly. In a second, you were falling perfectly silent and your head arched onto his shoulder with your eyes nearly rolling back in your head.  

It felt like a resurrection came over you, pulling your soul from your body as waves of pleasure tore through you. You could only try to breathe, gripping onto him as he fingered you right through your orgasm despite how you trembled underneath his control. It only got wetter, soaking your pussy, his fingers, and his duvet in your juices that leaked with each movement of his hand between your legs. 

You finally gasped for breath after having your entire body tensed and silenced with pleasure, echoing a blissful moan to the ceiling as your nails dug into both of his thighs. Your head fell forward and your eyes scrunched shut as you trembled with overwhelm and reached a hand down to grab his wrist and slow his rough movements down. 

“Okay, okay, okay- oh my...God…” you panted, your voice quivering. 

George let a soft chuckle fall against your neck and his lips followed in a gentle kiss to your skin. He finally pulled his fingers out of you and cupped his hand down nice and snug over your pussy until you were pushing his hand away with over sensitivity. His left hand raised to your throat and eased your head back onto his shoulder so he could lean in and kiss your lips, sharing sloppy breathless open mouthed kisses between you as your eyes struggled to even stay open. 

You were nearly limp between his legs but the obvious poke of his erection pressing against the small of your back had you licking your lips with unwavering desire for even more of him. He had been the catalyst for the awakening of your sin called lust that overtook you. Both the catalyst and the fuel that now kept this overpowering sensation going. You wanted all of him even if his simple touch sparked tremors of overwhelm through your body. 

When he pulled back from your lips, you tried to follow, leaning in after him with a pleading little whimper until he gave you his fingers instead. His big blue eyes watched as you silently permitted his two fingers in your mouth, your eyebrows furrowing slightly at the taste of yourself that grazed your tongue. 

“Tastes like heaven, huh?” George taunted. 

You could barely nod, sucking gently on his fingers for a few more seconds before he pulled them from your mouth and a string of spit dripped down your chin. 

“Turn over, angel.” he instructed as he shifted out from behind you. 

“What are you doing?” you mumbled as you shifted over onto your stomach. 

“We have one more step left in your penance until you’ll be free from your sin.” George explained as he situated himself to kneel on the mattress and he pulled you closer across the sheets by your hips. “You said you wanted me to bend you over and fuck you? Making you moan until Heaven can hear you?”

Your pussy pulsed at his words and you smothered a soft anticipatory moan into his duvet. You weren’t sure how much you could even take but despite the lingering sensitivity from your very first orgasm, you still craved more of him. After having his dick in your mouth it was only fair to give the rest of your body its turn. 

The silent filthy argument that your mind offered had you flushing pink into the sheets and you looked over your shoulder at him. George grabbed your hips and pulled your ass up so you were kneeling and bent forward onto the bed. His hand came down hard on your flesh and you yelped in surprise, wincing as he did it again and the metal of his ring stung your skin. 

“Answer me.” he ordered, his voice warm and firm.

You responded without hesitation, your voice foreign to you, “Yes, sir.” 

George got himself situated, kneeling between your spread legs, and he swiped his hand along your dripping pussy and smeared your excess liquids all over you just to make you more of a mess before using his slicked up hand to stroke his dick. 

“Don’t we need…a c-condom or something?” you asked shakily. 

“Contraceptives are a sin, angel.” George explained coolly, “I don’t think you need anything else added to your list of things to ask forgiveness for.”

“No, sir.” you breathed. 

“We’re going to start with something God won’t smite you too much over.” 

You rested yourself on your forearms with your back ached for him as his hand slid down your spine and rested between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. You glanced back at him over your shoulder just as he dragged his fingers through your soaking wet pussy and right up to the tight muscle of your asshole just above. His simple touch had you gasping as he smeared your wetness around and prodded gently at your hole. 

“George…” you spoke warningly, uncertainty present in your wavering voice. “Sir…I don’t think-“

He ignored you, grabbing two handfuls of your flesh and spread you open to lean down and let a thick dribble of saliva fall between your cheeks. Your eyes widened at the sensation, shutting you up expertly. Without lube or a condom, he slicked you up the best he could, finishing with a messy spit into his palm and a few more quick strokes to his dick. The feeling of the tip of his dick being angled against your asshole had you gripping the sheets nervously but you stayed perfectly still for him, waiting with bated breath for a feeling you didn’t know how to expect. 

“Just breathe, angel.” George cooed softly, setting one hand on your hip to keep you in place. 

You exhaled just as he started to push slowly inside you, stretching your tight hole open around his thick girth and nearly ripping indescribable pain right through your body. Your face screwed up in discomfort, breath freezing in your chest, and a trembling whimper fell from your throat. 

“Ow-” you choked out, fingers bunching around the sheets until your knuckles were turning white, “Ow, ow, ow, wait-”

“You’re being such a good girl.” George praised breathily, still pushing slowly into you. His thumbs tugged at your flesh to spread you open some more and he dropped another thick string of spit down to where you were connected, trying to help make himself slide a little easier. He cleaned up his lips with a lick and then bit the bottom one snugly as he watched himself bottom out inside you, his deep groan sending shivers up your spine. “You’re so fucking tight, angel. You’re so good.” 

“It hurts really bad.” you mumbled, tears stinging your eyes. 

“Just for a second.” George assured you before easing a short way out of you and then pushing back in. “It’s gonna feel so fucking good, angel, I promise.” 

You swore your entire body was burning in pain but you trusted his words. Somehow everything he said just came out so reassuring and believable, like he was a direct messenger from the Lord. It felt easy with him but it felt so wrong too, bent over on his bed in the filthiest of ways. 

You knew the concept of ‘God’s Loophole’ well from church camps where other teenagers made dirty jokes around the campfire about how sodomy was the one way to still guarantee a pass to heaven by avoiding true premarital sex. Hearing those things shocked you in the years passed but now, it all seemed to make sense. It was the best of both worlds: getting George and still getting your salvation. 

The talk seemed so much more casual than the act as you found yourself struggling to piece together if it was uncomfortable pain or pure overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. He gave you another slow thrust, his large hands gripping your hips until you were sure his ring was leaving intents in your skin. It would have been almost unbearable if it weren’t for his deep beautiful moans that fell from his chest everytime he pushed his hips right up against the curve of your bum and they honestly made the tight friction worth it. 

George pushed the bottom of your short skirt up again and hand came down hard on your cheek in a loud spank, enough for you to drop your forehead down against the duvet with a shaky groan, your fists gripping the sheets. He held you in place and started to pull you into each thrust, his eyes unwavering from your tight little hole and how perfectly stretched it stayed around his thick cock. It was erotic and he couldn’t help himself but shove a little harder into you. 

“Sir…” you whimpered out, arching your back lower for him without even realizing it. 

“Good girl.” George smirked down to you even though you couldn’t see him. He could sense you succumbing to it, adjusting to the invasion, and his hand slid down your back to grab a fistfull of your hair as he sped up slightly, thrusting into you a bit faster. 

“Oh-“ you gasped out shakily, scrunching your eyes closed tightly as you tried to focus on the pleasure in the pain, face smothered into the mattress. 

“Such a good little whore for sir.” George praised lowly, tugging at your hair to lift your head up, forcing you to stare straight ahead at the wooden carved cross on the wall above his bed as he shoved into you steadily. “And a good little angel for the Lord, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” you tumbled out. 

“Yeah?” 

“More.” you blurted out. 

“Harder or faster?”

“I-I don’t know!” you whimpered. 

George chuckled lowly from behind you, fucking into you harder and faster, pushing a trembling groan from your throat as he held your hair back in his tight fist. You were so wet that his childhood bedroom was easily picking up the filthy slap of his balls on your cunt, only making your eyes nearly flutter close with disgusting bliss as all your senses focused on him. It reeked of sex in his room but it didn’t phase either of you as he gripped you tighter and fucked into you harder. 

“O-Oh fuck,” you cried out, face contorting in pleasure, “Oh fuck!”

“That’s it, angel.” George grunted, his skin slapping hard against yours, trying to speak through his rough breaths and beautiful deep moans, “Gotta make this quick so I can take you home. Made up some little lie that we were getting some extra bible study in…your parents will never suspect that their innocent little angel is being fucked up the ass.”

“Please-” you sobbed, not quite knowing what you were trying to ask for, clutching the sheets tighter as your eyes screwed shut. “Shit.” 

George slid his hand from your hair to the front of your neck and pulled your head up higher by a tight grip on your throat. With his lips against the shell of your ear, his breaths were sending shivers down your spine, and you arched back for him greedily for more. 

“Naughty little angel.” George growled against your ear, holding you in place by your throat as his other hand spanked you hard again before sliding down to play with your pussy a little, rubbing over your folds as he fucked your ass nice and rough, honestly making your hand slap down on the mattress. 

“Please, sir! Gimme it!” you cried out, letting him ram the syllables from your throat. 

“Shit, angel…fuck.” George groaned, shoving two fingers back into your pussy and thrusted them in rapid time with his hips, only increasing the soaking wet sounds that squelched through the bedroom. “Shit, you’re soaked…so fucking wet.”

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir-r-r, o-oh my-“

“Say it. He’s listening.”

George’s fingers sped up as his body slowed down to a stop and he watched your muscles clench around his dick as your cunt took his second vicious attack from his glorious fingers. 

“Oh my G-God!” you finally squealed, bending lower for him despite the grip he had on your throat. 

“Fuck this.” George huffed impatiently and pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, leaving you to shriek at the sudden stillness. He yanked your head back by your throat again so he could speak lowly right into your ear, his voice thick and low, “You want my fat cock in your sweet little pussy?”

You couldn’t even answer for a moment with how stunningly filthy and desirable those words sounded coming out of his swollen pink lips. All you could manage in reply was a pleading moan of, “Mmm, yes.”

“Beg.” he ordered. “Tell me you want me to fuck the sin out of you.”

Your once censored mind was nothing but a mess of filthy desire and you let the devil speak for you from your innocent mouth, “Please, sir. Please fuck me. Need your dick so fucking bad…need it so deep…”

George eased out of your ass, leaving a bit of a gaping hole staring back at him that he slipped his left thumb into to not leave you painfully empty. You withered for him, wiggling your hips back temptingly and he spanked you with his right hand. 

“You’re going to have to go to confession and beg for forgiveness from the Lord daily if I fuck your pretty pussy. You know premarital sex is one of the greatest sins of all.” George explained as he tauntingly dragged the tip of his leaking dick between your lips. 

Yes, you knew that well. You knew that to take your virginity back properly you may even need to be re-baptized - and what would your family think of that - but in that moment, all that mattered was him filling your deepest desires. You craved him in the deepest part of your soul and the deepest part of your body. 

“I don’t care, I need you inside me!” you cried out, louder than you needed to, and tried to push back on him desperately. 

His hand gripped tighter to the sides of your throat and you fell silent as he shushed you soothingly and pressed the head of his dick just inside you to make you gasp with the slightest taste of that beautiful stretch, “I’ll give you what you want, angel.”

“Please.” you breathed, scrunching your eyes closed in anticipation. 

George pushed into you a little more until he reached some resistance from your body. His fingers had done a good job in preparing you somewhat but, for your first time, it was expected that it wouldn’t suddenly make it easy. You whimpered at the sting that the gentle nudge of his cock hinted between your legs, your body tensing up.

“Deep breaths for me now, angel.” he purred, stroking your hair, “Nice, deep breaths.”

You took a full, shaky breath, and he took that moment to force himself a little deeper. Your inhale was cut off by a pained cry, eyes screwing shut, feeling him forcing himself into your untouched body. He was patient with you, easing into you in slow shallow thrusts despite the way tears welled in your eyes at the ache it pushed over your hips and right between your legs. 

His thick girth and impressive length caused the wetness that dripped out of you to squish filthily as he pushed himself inside all the way. There was a pause and George let out an audible withering moan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head with how beautifully warm, wet, and tight you were around him, squeezing him so tightly he was sure he had never seen the presence of God until that very moment. 

“Ohhh, fuck.” he swore breathily, keeping his thumb in your ass as his dick filled your pussy to the hilt. His deep groan reverberated through your mind and your jaw fell slack with the pleasure of even simply hearing him, using that as a distraction from the physical strain. His other hand gave your hip a squeeze, muttering out a barely audible, “There we go…”

Then, George barely gave you a second to admire that fulfilling stretch, before he was pulling out and ramming back into you hard. You groaned loudly, eyes fluttering at his intensity as he did it again. His hand pulled his thumb from your ass and he held a two-handed grip on your hips to tug you back into each quick thrust. Your mouth was hanging open with shocked bliss, nearly drooling out the side of your mouth at how good he felt taking you from behind. 

He spanked you again, slapping his large hand down hard right across the pink tinted flesh of your ass, and then propped up one foot flat on the mattress for leverage. His speed and aggression was indescribable and a pitchy moan fell from your lips. 

“Ohh my God!” you shrieked through his room, the pain melting quickly into pleasure as your body accommodated him, drunk on the feeling of having him all. Your voice shook with the overwhelming pleasurable tears welling in your eyes, “Yes, yes, yes, sir, yes!”

Unexpectedly, just as you had started to properly enjoy it and how much you wanted him to keep going, to keep blessing you with this new form of rebirth, he pulled right out of you. You cried out in pleading protest but he didn’t wait a second before grabbing your waist and flipping you right over onto your back. He shoved up your skirt again and pushed open your legs—wide—as he spoke down to you through his teeth, “I wanna see your pretty little face…wanna see my angel’s beautiful, pathetic heavenly tears.”

“Sir-“ you whined, reaching down to grab his wrist as he was lining his dick back up between your legs. The faint streaks of blood on his dick from when he broke your hymen were barely acknowledged by you, far too focused on getting back to the unexplainable feeling of being stretched by him, “Put it in. Put it in.” 

He shoved back inside you in one swift thrust and your head tossed back against his bed with a heavenly moan. He starting fucking into you quickly again, his hands rested strongly on the duvet on either side of your head as his eyes stared down lustfully at your flushed face. 

“Ah fuck-“ you whimpered, the word cutting off right at the end as George dipped down to kiss you and bite at your bottom lip. You moaned hungrily into his mouth, tangling your hand in the back of his hair as he thrusted into you messily. Your fingers raked over his shoulder blades, pulling angry red scratches over his back, struggling to keep kissing him like that when he took you over so easily. 

After a moment, George leaned back, knelt between your legs and he pushed your thighs up towards your chest and outwards, spreading you wide to give himself plenty of room to fuck you. It was a near miracle that your socks hadn’t slipped down from where they rested at your knees and as George held one of your thighs in place, his other hand grabbed a handful of your sock on your other leg. 

His gaze was captured by your soaked pussy and how it nearly pulled him in with each thrust he gave you, watching how you coated him in your liquids more and more each time he pulled back. There was something so mind numbingly addicting about you and the pureness you exuded that made him want to ruin you and claim you completely. Especially in your skirt and knee-high socks. You were effortlessly and innocently sexy. Your sweet moans and whimpers made his mind spin. 

“Lord…have mercy on me.” George muttered, leaning over you a little more to hit deeper, one hand falling heavily against the mattress beside your head, causing his silver cross necklace to dangle above you tauntingly. “Pussy’s so fucking creamy-“

His filthy words and his obvious reaction to your body only spurred you on, hands gripping around to his back as he fucked you into his bed. He wasn’t going as hard as he was going fast and his pendant was nearly hitting you in the chin with each thrust. You couldn’t help yourself as your last sliver of polite Christian sanity dissolved from your existence and you opened your mouth to take the metal cross between your teeth. 

“Forgive me.” you muttered shakily up to heaven, bending your legs back farther as George’s grip tightened on your thighs and he stared down at his necklace in your mouth and shoved into you harder to make you squeal another blissful, “Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me-“ 

He was going harder now, lost in your pleas and your vice-like grip of your cunt, and he fucked you so strongly the headboard was starting to hit the wall. Thud, thud, thud, in time with your heavy breaths and equal groans, nearly shaking the wooden crucifix that hung over his bed right off the wall. You were whimpering underneath him, his cross pendant between your teeth until the metallic taste filled your mouth and your eyes stared up at him longingly. 

“How does it feel, angel?” George spoke down to you darkly, moving a hand from gripping your knee sock to grab a snug handful of one of your breasts as they bounced in time with his rough thrusts, “What if your parents saw you like this, hm? Getting your tight little virgin pussy fucking pounded? They’ll certainly send you away to boarding school to set you straight…trying to scold the lustful slut out of you.”

“George…” you sobbed out, gripping your nails down the side of his back as you clung onto him desperately, “Sir-”

“No, no. I got you. I’m going to set you straight myself.” George said through his teeth, fucking into you in rough consistent thrusts until his double bed creaked steadily underneath you, “Give you just what you want so those filthy little sinful thoughts are gone for good.” 

“Please, please, please-” you begged, trying to slide your legs around his waist but he leaned back and grabbed your thighs again to hold you open. 

He didn’t stop, only finding a different angle to thrust inside you harder and the tip of his cock nudged against a certain spot deep inside you that made you nearly see stars. You fell perfectly silent for a moment, mouth falling open and his necklace dropping from your lips as your eyes nearly rolled back into your head and your hands wrapped tightly around his biceps. He fucked little gasps out of you, shoving right into that perfect spot that left you breathless until you could hardly even wrap your mind around the pleasure. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, “Fuck! Yes, yes, yes-” 

You were sure his grip on your thighs was going to leave bruises but George didn’t care...in fact, he would have loved to see you marked up by him. He never realized how much he had been holding out for you but finally being able to have you in his bed and have your body to himself, he was nearly in blissful heaven. You were so tight and warm and he was ravishing your body until he was sure he was about to lose it far too soon if he didn’t slow down. 

With a huff, he pulled out of you completely, breaking your silence as you heaved in air with a sob. He licked his hand and rubbed his fingers over your messy pussy to smear around the dripping wetness that leaked out of you and to stimulate you a little more. You whimpered at the emptiness, grabbing him by his silver chain to pull him back towards you pleadingly. 

He slid the length of his aching cock between your folds as he leaned down to kiss you, rubbing up against your clit and between your lips as you found heaven in his tongue. You shared strong moans between sloppy kisses and quick bites until he reached down between you and shoved his whole length right back into you in one precise plunge. You grunted hard at his intensity, gaping up at him as he picked up where he left off, fucking you hard into his bed until his balls were echoing a steady rhythm of wet slapping through his room. 

You were dizzy with pleasure, moaning louder as tears of pleasure blurred your vision, raising your hands above your head to grip onto the sheets as he had his way with you. He found that spot inside you again like it was easy, like he knew your body, like he knew every inch of your entire existence. He pushed your thighs straight up to your chest to give himself nothing more than a tight little gap between your legs to fuck into, feeling how snug you were around him from the inside out. You threw your head back against the mattress, shrieking to the ceiling—shrieking to heaven—over the way he made you see stars.

“The louder you are the harder I want to fuck you.” George warned lustfully, staring right down into your eyes. 

“Sir...please…” you sobbed out, a few tears escaping the corners of your eyes as he imprinted your body into his bed sheets with his own. 

His groans were righteous and beautiful and you forced your eyes to stay open and locked with his, even as your toes started to curl in your socks again, calves hooked over his shoulders. He was slamming into you harder, forcing your moans to reach every corner of his house and your hands had no choice but to grab onto any part of him you could reach as you struggled for air; gripping his hair and his bicep, raking over his back. 

You felt it again, that overwhelming tightness in the depths of your insides and the craving to just give into him. 

“Sir.” you whined out softly, “Sir. I-I’m...Sir, I’m gonna cum.” 

But George was already feeling how your body clenched down on him in desperate greedy pulses, he knew you were close before you even did. He raised one hand to the top of his wooden headboard, using it for leverage as he fucked you right through your overwhelm and into the momentary blissful gaping silence as your orgasm washed over you. 

With a shrieking gasping inhale, you came around him, forcing yourself to stare right into his eyes as he brought so much aching pleasure over you that it was mind numbing. All you could think about was George, George, George and certainly not the terrible heinous sins you were committing with the son of your pastor. 

George was merciless, pounding into you right through your orgasm even as your liquids creamed around him and drenched your thighs in glistening wetness that made his body slap with yours louder and wetter. He was groaning loud, eyebrows furrowed as you squeezed his cock so tightly it was as if your body was ready to suck the very soul from him. 

“Goddamn, angel.” he spoke lowly, his words riddled with breathlessness, “That’s my good fucking girl.” 

“Feels so good.” you sobbed wetly. 

“Yeah? I bet it does.” George taunted without slowing down, “Your sweet little pussy has never been fucked like this before. Just waiting for me to fuck those naughty thoughts out of your brain.” 

“Yes, sir.” you cried, moaning and whimpering as your high tapered off and your aching throbbing body was still being taken roughly by him. “Yes, sir, it hurts.”

“Let it hurt.” George hushed you quickly, “It’s part of your penance, angel, remember? You’re a dirty fucking sinner.”

“Yes, sir.” you sobbed, dragging your nails down his biceps as he fucked you roughly as the bed slammed against the wall over and over even as his hand tried to hold the headboard still. 

It was far too overwhelming and your legs were trembling, but you could only focus on him and how his dick was starting to throb inside your snug body. His slick skin was warm under your touch and he shifted slightly to slide his other hand down between your legs still bent up to your chest and he let his fingertips graze over your clit. Your whimper at his light touch only had him setting his whole hand down on your lower stomach and had his thumb start to rub at your swollen clit, pressing down just to feel how deep he was and you could feel how he filled you. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you shrieked, tears pouring down your cheeks in overwhelm as his thumb rubbed faster and faster. Your sinful, vulgar words only spurred him on, fucking the sanity out of you harder, his breaths falling shallower as his groans filled his room. 

“Gonna cum in your filthy fucking mouth.” he growled shakily, still fucking into you strongly. 

“No.” you whimpered, grabbing his waist in your tight grip as if to prevent him from even trying to pull out, “I want it inside me. P-Please, sir.”

“Angel, that’s so dangerous.” George warned. 

“I don’t care!” you whined, “I don’t care, I wanna feel you so fucking deep, sir, please!” 

“God, you’re so fucking sinful.”

“In-side-me-ple-ase.” you begged through each hard thrust he gave you. 

George’s thumb rubbed harder at your clit until your legs were shaking, nearly vibrating as they were held down against your chest and he was leaned over top of you, fucking you harder and faster into his bed as his heavenly moans harmonized so angelically with yours. You felt completely on fire, soaking yourself in tears of overwhelm as your mind was fizzing into nothingness. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t focus on anything else other than his thick cock drilling into you so hard your vision was going black around the edges. 

Your third orgasm of the afternoon hit you like a brick wall, sending your whole body into tremors as your pussy clenched down on him tighter than ever, your eyes screwing shut no matter how much you wanted to keep looking at him. It was insane how dizzy with pleasure you felt and the bursts of liquids that spurted out of you had you gasping in surprise as you clung onto him. 

George gripped tighter to the headboard and shoved in as deep as he could go with a rough grunt, pausing there for a second as he spilled his first thick shot of cum right inside you. The pad of his thumb still tugged at your clit as he shoved his hips into yours slowly but strongly through your shared orgasms, not caring how you soaked him up his abs in clear glistening wetness. 

“Oh fuck.” you whimpered shakily, gripping onto his biceps tightly as he came inside you, filling you with the warmest filthiest feeling. You were more than positive that this is what heaven felt like. 

“Oh my...gosh.” George breathed lowly, his eyebrows furrowed in his own surprise and he leaned back slightly to get a good look at how soaked you both were, not to mention his sheets that were lightly stained in pink hues of blood. You whimpered as his body heat moved away from you and you let your arms draped tiredly above your head to let him stare at you. His large hands ran down your hips and held you in place as he pulled out of you, letting his softening dick leave you without that once perfect stretch. 

Your legs fell lazily to the bed even as they trembled slightly and he stayed situated between them to watch as a thick drop of white cream was pushed out of your dripping hole by your aching and pulsing muscles. He didn’t bother cleaning it up, leaving you messy as he raised his eyes back up to your tear streaked face. 

“I’ve never had a girl squirt before.” 

His simple statement had you shying away, pulling your thighs together as your cheeks flushed pink. George tisked and leaned over you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

“Why so shy on me now, angel?”

You felt dirty from more than the sin that had just completed, but at the thought of him doing the same thing with other girls. You mumbled a soft, “Nothing.” 

“Hey.” George’s face turned to concern and he shifted off you to let you sit up the best you could when you made the move and you pulled your skirt back down as if to keep yourself decent around the young man who just took your virginity. Who just took your most sacred gift. He spoke your name softly and reached for your arm to stop you from standing up. With the wave of dizziness that overcame you, you didn’t fight him. “Take it easy for a sec.” 

“I have to go.” you said, your voice quivering.

“Just wait until you get your legs back under you first at least.” George said, trying to pull you by the arm to lay down again. “Why are you in such a rush, angel?”

You sat stiff on the side of his bed, mostly naked and covered in sweat, spit, and various consistencies of each other’s cum, and you held onto the edge of the mattress with your head hung and spinning. You took a soft breath, “How many girls have you...have you taken like this?”

There was a silence that fell and you didn’t have to look at him to know the expression that was taking up his face. He didn’t want to lie to you but the truth wasn’t what he knew you wanted to hear. 

“A few...maybe, like, eight...or...twelve...but-”

“I’m so stupid.” you whimpered more to yourself than anyone, trying to get up again. 

George grabbed your arm to keep you from getting to your feet and he spoke quickly, “But none of them have been like you. None of them have made me feel as good as you. None of them...I never technically had sinful disgusting risky pre-marital sex with anyone other than you.”

“You probably say that to all of them.” you mumbled, sitting on the side of his bed sniffling, and wiped your already tear streaked cheeks with the heel of your palm. 

“Hey.” George shuffled up behind you on the bed and he slid his arm around you and gently urged your head back to look at him over your shoulder with a hand on your neck. You blinked away your forming tears as you stared into his eyes. He stroked his thumb over your jawline and spoke softly to you, “Lying is a sin. I don’t lie and especially not to you.” 

You sniffled and nodded weakly. 

George leaned in and pressed a gentle feather soft kiss to your pouted lips and then another to the tip of your nose. He petted your hair back from your face, “Okay, now just lay down for a bit and I’ll grab you some water. That post-orgasm drop off is really hitting you, angel.” 

“What’s that?” you mumbled, letting him lead you farther back onto his bed and he tucked the sheets up around your shivering body. 

“You’re just exhausted and overwhelmed from all that—and maybe a bit dehydrated—and after such a strong dose of those pleasure sensors in that pretty little head of yours, you’re now crashing a little.” George explained as he made sure you were tucked up securely to keep you from trembling from cold as well as the drop in natural endorphins. “I’m going to get you some water, I’ll be right back.”

He tugged his boxers back up and hurried out of his room and you listened for each quick footfall down the wooden flight of stairs. Fourteen steps. You let your head rest back against the headboard and you stared up at the bottom of the carved wooden cross still managing to stay hung on the blue painted wall. Your heart was racing and you still felt like you were going to cry. Your head was spinning and even though you weren’t cold, you were trembling. 

This must have been your punishment. God saw it all. He saw your sin and this was the first step to your true punishment. You felt sick with guilt, a pit in your stomach like you had never felt before. You needed to go home but you wanted to stay with George but you thought that even the sight of him would bring back the shame of your afternoon rendezvous. 

Only a few seconds later, George was returning into his room with two glasses of water and a box of cookies tucked under his arm. Even though the house was still empty, he nudged the door closed anyway and brought over the snack and drinks to the bedside table. 

“Okay,” he crouched down to drop the opened package of cookies on the night table and then held out one of the glasses of water to you, “Here you go.”

“God’s punishing me.” you said softly without taking the glass. 

George’s soft smile fell, still holding your offered drink out to you, “What? How?”

“I feel...sick with guilt.” you mumbled, embarrassed to share your innermost fears with him, whom you may have been crushing on for months but only spoke to in the last few short hours. 

“He’s not punishing you, angel.” George assured you. He set his own glass of water to the side before he lifted your hand himself to wrap your fingers around your icy glass. “Drink.” 

Your trembling hand rose the water to your lips and you sipped softly. George crawled onto his bed beside you and petted his hand through the side of your hair as you sipped your water. He leaned in to kiss your temple. 

“You did nothing abnormal.” George said softly, stroking his hand through your tangled mess of hair, “Remember what I said? God wouldn’t have made it feel so good if it was something so terrible, right? And you know He always loves you so all you have to do is take it to confession and it will be alright.” 

“How do you know?” you asked shakily. 

“Angel,” George chuckled, “I’m the second son of our town’s pastor; I have been told our rules and expectations as Christains since the moment I took my very first breath. I may have found my way around some of them over the last few years but my father always told me that nothing you can do will make the Lord love you any less.” 

You sipped your water quietly. 

“And making love is certainly not a ticket to hell.” George whispered. 

“Do I have to be re-baptised?” 

“Only if you want to.”

“Promise?”

“I don’t lie.”

You glanced over at him, your nose almost touching his with how close you both sat, and feeling somewhat more comforted, you tested his theory, “So if you’re so truthful, what do you say if your parents ask what you did this afternoon?”

“I praised the name of the Lord with that sweet-hearted girl from church and helped her to strengthen her faith and connection with God.” George answered easily. 

“And if they ask how?”

“They won’t.” George shrugged before leaning over you to reach for his glass of water from the nightstand, pausing with his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, “But if they do, I guess I’ll have to tell them that I had no choice but to fuck your sinful thoughts you were having right out of your head...tell them that you’re cured now...that I made you see the light of heaven...that I turned you from a little dirty whore into a sweet angellic good girl who loves her God.” 

His teasing smile only had you biting back your own, raising your hand still chilled from the cold water glass to set against his bare chest and he tilted his head slightly to kiss you slowly. 

After a few seconds, he pulled back again, “Make me one promise though?”

“Mhm?” you answered softly, still in a blissful little daze from the sweetness of his kisses. 

“Keep your confessional appointment for tomorrow. You definitely need it now.” 

“Yes, sir.” you giggled, tossing your arm around his shoulders as his lips locked with yours again. 

The very next day - after a long afternoon of snacks and kisses and nothing else in George’s warm bed, him driving you home on his motorcycle, and a night of such a deep relaxing sleep you didn’t even dream - you arrived at the white paneled church at 1pm. Like a taunting sense of deja vu, you small heels clicked over the wooden floors of the empty church and towards the two small doors of the confessional booths. There was one light on, signaling that the priest was inside and waiting for you. 

You opened the door and closed it behind you as you sat in the tight space. You performed the sign of the cross, folded your hands, and spoke remorsefully despite the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips, “Forgive me, Father, for I have greatly sinned.” 

♡ Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[fadedncity]

(blood)thirst (teaser)

wc: 1.6k (teaser)

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

cw: supernatural!au, werewolf(lycan)!jeno, vampire!reader, natural enemies to lovers/forbidden love type of situation, injuries, blood, full fic tags: smut, angst, mention of death and family loss, flirting, sexual tension, teasing, pet names, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, way more plot than i expected, plus more

a/n: hey yall so i finished this fic a while ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts and then i was kinda unsure whether i wanted to post it but i still might. so lmk what you think!

full fic out now

TUESDAY [3:31 AM]

Rain pours in sheets, pelting against your skin. Your footsteps are silent as you sprint through the underbrush, hot on the heels of the Lycan ahead of you.

Even with his head start, it took you no time to catch up to the him. Your pace matched his as you zeroed in on his steady breathing and rhythmic drum of his footfalls. Lycans are fast, and he hadn't even shifted forms yet. But still, you had no trouble keeping up with him.

All the while you closely trail the Lycan, you're cautious of your surroundings, keeping your ears peeled for any sign of a presence accompanying you both in these woods.

Just as you were about to fall in line with him, an unexpected sound sliced through the night—a whistle, followed by the unmistakable twang of a bowstring.

An arrow whizzed past your head, embedding itself in a tree trunk to your left. Stopping in your tracks, you tilt your head, seeing sparks and smoke emitting from the arrowhead now embedded into the old pine tree. But you aren't given any more time to investigate as you're tackled to the ground by the Lycan.

Before you could push him off, his body shields you from the explosion of blinding light so bright you could've sworn it was day for a split second.

He just saved you.

"Are you okay?" Jeno asks, rain dripping from the ends of his hair as he stands from the dirt.

"Yeah," you nod, hesitantly taking the hand he offers. "Thanks," you say, looking at the tree bark melting off the trunk.

The humans have UV explosives. Great.

Both you and Jeno hear the sound of cars approaching from the nearby road and take off running again. Without a word, you plunge deeper into the forest, your movements synchronized with Jeno's by necessity.

"How did they even find us?" Jeno asks, looking over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."

The hunters were relentless, their shouts echoing in the distance, along with the pounding of their boots. You moved swiftly, navigating the maze of branches and roots with an ease born from decades of practice. The forest seemed to close in around you, the trees pressing in like silent sentinels bearing witness to your flight.

Then shots start firing off, the sharp cracks of bullets cutting through the air. It sounds like they were coming from every direction, the rain making it harder for both you and Jeno to locate where the hunters are.

A bullet soars past you and stops whistling in your ears when it hits flesh, tearing through skin and muscle. Jeno beside you roars out in pain and begins to slow down as the metallic taste of blood enters the air around you. You shoot him a look of concern over your shoulder.

"I'll be fine," he says. But when you see his hand pressed to his shoulder, blood seeping from an injury that should've already started healing, you know he's far from okay. "We need to get out of these woods," Jeno winces as he applies pressure to the gunshot wound.

"I know a place not too far from here," you tell him.

[6:37 AM]

The moon's silver glow was waning, giving way to the first light of dawn. The storm had passed, leaving the forest dank and muddy. Urgency rose as you were closing in on daybreak. You and Jeno raced through the forest, the scent of his blood and sweat mingling in the damp morning air.

Jeno's breath was labored, each step accompanied by a pained grunt as he pushed himself forward. The wound on his shoulder, though not fatal, was slowing him down.

"The sun's gonna be up soon," Jeno pants, his voice weary.

"I know," you raise your eyes to the sky, "But we're almost there."

As you ascend the mountain, you spot the entrance behind a thick curtain of ivy and moss. The camouflaged door was almost invisible against the rocky face.

The two of you approach the fortified door. But not before you start to feel the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles all over your body, a warning of the daylight's deadly approach.

The air grows warmer with the first rays of sunlight piercing through the treetops, casting long shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the ground, leaving you exposed. You scream out in pain just before you can reach the door, feeling the severe burns blistering across your body under the sun's relentless gaze.

Without hesitation, Jeno quickly removes his jacket and throws it around you, shielding you as best as he can from the searing sunlight.

You reach the door with trembling hands and enter the security code to unlock it. You hear the mechanism click and attempt to push the door open, but it remains stubbornly shut. The hinges, unused for so long, now rusted, obstruct your entry.

"It's stuck," panic edges your voice.

Using his good shoulder, Jeno presses his weight into the door, helping you push it open. The thick metal gives way with a heavy creak, welcoming you inside. The moment you both are through, Jeno slams the door shut behind him, enveloping you in the safety of darkness.

The flickering emergency lights cast long shadows across the walls, the only source of illumination along the steps down to the bunker. You can hear the sounds of the forest growing distant, muted, and distorted through the layers of earth and stone as you descend further down.

With the adrenaline from the chase already simmered down, the reality of your situation sets in. Here you are, a vampire, with Jeno, a lycan, forced into hiding together by humans hunting you both. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words only filled by the sounds of Jeno's steps behind you.

Your burns are already beginning to heal now that you're out of the sunlight. The cool, dim interior of the bunker feels like a sanctuary, the pain in your skin subsiding by the time you lead Jeno into a high-ceiling room.

"Thanks, again," you break the silence, returning his jacket. Even in the shadows, you can see Jeno's eyes examining your burns. "I'll heal," you assure him. "You, on the other hand, aren't for some reason."

"I'm fine," Jeno lies.

"You're not. You're still bleeding out. I can smell it."

Jeno stays silent, knowing there's no use in arguing with you.

"I'll go see if I can find the generator and a med kit or something," you say.

The underground facility is large enough to house an entire clan and well-equipped for emergencies. Or at least it had been once. The walls, thick and impenetrable, provide a sense of security, but the darkness within was oppressive, the silence deafening.

You move through the narrow corridors, blindly navigating yourself through the place. The emergency lights give off a faint glow, barely enough to see by. The bunker has an air of abandonment from years of sitting unused here. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and dust motes danced in the faint light.

You quickly locate the electrical room and, after a few tries, manage to get the generator running. The lights flicker on, and the air kicked on, ventilating the compound. As you make your way back down the corridor, you pass the uniform lockers, and just with your luck, you find a med kit sitting at the bottom of the cubby. You grab it and hurry back to where Jeno's waiting.

You find Jeno right where you left him; leaning against the wall, face pale and drawn, sweat glistening on his brow, damp clothes clinging to his defined muscles. From where he stands, the light casts deep shadows across his face, highlighting the strain etched into his features.

"Sit," you say, opening the case of medical supplies on the table.

"I can do it myself," Jeno mutters, though his voice lacks conviction as he weakly pushes himself away from the wall.

"You look like you can barely stand on your own. Just let me patch you up so you can at least stop bleeding all over the place," your words are punctuated by the snap of latex gloves you slip on.

Jeno has no energy to protest. He drops his jacket onto a chair and peels off his shirt, sitting on the table in front of you.

You don't have much time to ogle over the Lycan's chiseled physique as your eyes are drawn to the skin turning black and blue around the bullet's entry point. In all your years of existence, you've seen some pretty bad shit. But even this sight—Jeno's bloodied and seemingly infected shoulder, is enough to make even you wince.

"There's no exit, which is probably why you're not healing. Whatever specialized bullet hit you is still in there," you observe, examining the injury closely.

"Great," Jeno groans, throwing his head back. "Think you can get it out?"

"Sure, but it's not gonna be fun," you tell him.

"Let's just get it over with."

a/n: please lmk what you think! if i do post the full fic it is 11k so be weary 😭 thank you for reading! <33 feedback is appreciated!!

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[reilemon]

🍒My Everything🍒

♡︎ synopsis: You didn't plan on celebrating your birthday during undercover mission, but Xavier still wanted to surprise you. A little twist on the 21 Days memory.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: birthday sex, fingering, oral (both male and female receiving), creampie, multiple orgasms

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ a/n: I call myself Zayne girlie yet here I am posting my fourth Xavier fic. Anyways, Sylus is next.

♡︎ requested by @sadfragilegirl ♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this! divider by @cafekitsune

The undercover mission with Xavier has been going smoothly so far. You two put up a convincing act of a young couple in love in front of others, and actually got along well behind closed doors. You didn't want to tell him this, but you were genuinely surprised at how good of a homemaker he is. When you heard about the assignment, you were excited that it's him who's going to be living with you, but at the same time anxious. Xavier is a reliable work partner, but what would he be like as a roommate? So far, you had no complaints and actually were looking forward to coming home back to the apartment you and Xavier temporarily lived in for around three weeks.

As you mindlessly stroll around a grocery store, you reminisce about one more cause of anxiety about the mission - your crush on your coworker and neighbor. You're not sure when it started, but it doesn't matter because you made it your own mission to bury those feelings and hope they disintegrate. For a while you considered acting on it and taking the first step, but then you realized you had a lot to lose if it doesn't work out. And you tried to convince yourself that it was just a small crush, because who wouldn't want someone hot and reliable? Right?

A weary sigh leaves your lips and you turn a corner - Party Supplies. Oh. Right, it's your birthday today. You didn't say anything to Xavier because you didn't want to make him feel obligated to buy you a gift or make something today. You two are on a mission after all, and you can get to celebrate it later when it's over.

You pass the party supplies aisle and head towards the check out. You wonder what kind of concoction Xavier cooked today.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

Even though you settled on not celebrating your birthday today, you still wanted to treat Xavier, so you bought a cherry pie from a pastry shop that always smells so good and makes your mouth water every time on the way back from 'work'.

As you fiddle with your keys at the doorstep, you catch a whiff of something burning. Probably from the inside. Another sigh leaves your lips. Xavier burnt something again, didn't he?

Light gray smoke greets you as soon as you open the door, your eyes taking a moment to adjust and then you see Xavier frantically fanning a kitchen towel over the counter.

You can clearly see the panic in Xavier's eyes over the slowly dissipating smoke when he notices you coming in. "Ah - ! Welcome home!"

You can't help but laugh a little at the scene, but also be confused a little at his behavior. He's usually calm even when he causes a kitchen fire. "So what are we having for dinner?" You tease.

Xavier's shoulders slump in defeat and puts away the kitchen towel. He turns to you and finally looks at you properly, with a defeated smile "A neighbor made you one of your favorite dishes." He nudges his head towards the dining table. Your gaze follows his and you gasp at how beautifully the table was set, with the meal and your favorite flowers waiting for you.

"Xavier, what - "

"Oh, what's this?"

He approached you to take the bag with the groceries while your attention was on the table.

"Oh, I got us a cherry pie."

He only nods and goes back to the kitchen to unload everything.

You sneak towards the cremated object, "So, if we already had dinner, what was this supposed to be?"

"Uh, nothing. I was just experimenting." Xavier absentmindedly answers as he finishes putting everything away.

After he refuses your offer to help with airing out the apartment, you then excuse yourself to the bathroom to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes.

When you exit the bathroom, the smell of what you assume to be burnt dessert is almost completely gone, and now you can see everything properly. You walk back into the dining area and your eyes land on Xavier waiting for you by the table. You gasp in delight when you see what's in his hands - a cute handmade paper crown in your favorite colors.

"Happy birthday." Xavier says softly and steps towards you, placing the crown on your head. It sits so perfectly that you think he might've taken your measurements.

You look up at him, still in disbelief "How did you - "

"Know when it's your birthday? I told you I looked at your profile." He chuckles at the silly question and turns to pull back your chair, offering you to take a seat.

While eating, you found out that what he burnt was supposed to be a birthday cake he thought you would like, but while it was baking he used that time to set the table and make the crown. He didn't want to make it earlier in case you found it. And then the neighbor came to drop off the meal and of course had to linger and chat and also invite herself over tomorrow.

"So, the groceries I bought today - "

"I didn't need any of that, I just wanted to buy myself more time."

You got used to Xavier's weird grocery shopping lists, that you didn't even question why you were buying ketchup, pesto sauce or sausages. You were so touched by the amount of effort and thoughtfulness he put into your birthday dinner; you were smiling the whole time. That crush is not going away anytime soon.

But you can tell that Xavier was almost like a deflated balloon, hesitantly answering your questions as you put two and two together.

You reach across the table, placing your hand over his. "I love everything you've done today." You reassure him in a comforting voice, "And it kinda worked out that the cake got burned, because then the pie would go to waste."

He nods, and you hope you made him feel a little better. Then, he takes your hand and places a soft peck on top of it, and you could feel your cheeks burning instantly. You hope he doesn't notice it.

He does.

After dinner, Xavier shoos you away from the kitchen, not letting you do any of the house chores on your day. So you go to the living room to unwind and wait for him to join you.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

"Sorry, I had to take a shower." Xavier finally appears and takes a seat next to you on the sofa. He's wearing sweats (those gray sweatpants!!) and a loose tshirt, his hair still a little damp from washing away the smoke.

"It's okay, I entertained myself." You throw the other half of your blanket over his lap.

"Did you pick out a movie?"

You nod and start playing the movie on the tv. Since you can't go out together as much thanks to the mission, you found ways to pass the time inside your 'new home'. One of them is watching old movies Xavier used to watch years ago.

And about five minutes into the movie, you feel fluffy gray hair tickling you cheek and nose as his head softly drops on your shoulder. You turn your head and of course, Xavier is already dozing off. You smile softly at him - it's only fair to let him rest, so you try to slowly get up and let him lie down on the soft pillows.

With eyes still closed, he lets you snuggle him into the pillows and the blanket, but then his lips form a playful smirk and in one swift motion, he pulls you under the blanket with him, into his arms.

"You can watch the movie like this, right?" He asks as sleepiness overtakes him again, with the crown, barely on your head, poking his cheek.

Your body is stiff against his, and your voice doesn't help hiding how flustered you are "Um, you don't want to go to your room to take a nap?"

"Nope." He mumbles before dozing off.

You adjust to make yourself more comfortable, resting your head on his chest. The movie is rolling, but it doesn't have your attention. All you can focus on is how relaxing Xavier's presence is, with his weird slow heartbeat and soft breathing. His one hand is holding you close by the waist, while the other one found its way on top of yours that's resting on his chest.

All the nervousness about being so close to him slowly melts away, and you drift off to sleep.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

When your eyes flutter open, Xavier's hand is in full focus as he tenderly caresses your cheek. The moonlight is the only source of light in the room now, and you wonder how long you slept. You prop yourself up a bit to look up at Xavier, but the crown you forgot you still had on slides off over your face, earning an amused laugh from him.

He takes it off for you and sets it on a nearby coffee table. Then he goes back to caressing your cheek.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks.

"Ye - Ow!" Numbness in your arm that was under you makes you grit your teeth and shift on the sofa in search for relief.

"Here." His arms effortlessly move you on top of him, your upper body completely resting on top of his, his legs encasing yours. "Better?" He asks as he grazes soothing circles on the numb arm.

Well you're not sure if it is better because your heart is beating like crazy now that you're on top of him, your faces a breath away. You did cuddle a little before, but you were never this close. So close you're sure he can feel your heartbeat. So you just nod, not trusting your voice.

You two share a moment in silence, gazing at each other’s features, Xavier's fingers still not leaving your face.

"It's a pity your birthday was during an undercover mission. I'll make it up to you when we get back."

You shake your head "This is one of my favorite birthdays actually." He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to elaborate and hoping you're not just humoring him. "I mean, I had a lovely home and a handsome husband waiting for me. He got me beautiful flowers and made sure I had my favorite meal."

A tone of uncertainty covers your voice "Who should I thank for that?"

When met with a puzzled look you elaborate "Should I thank you as my fake husband playing his role, or as my coworker -"

The fingers on your cheek cover your lips, cutting you off. "Just thank me, Xavier." The digits gingerly graze your bottom lip.

You speak softly “Thank you, Xavier.” Butterflies dance in your belly as you mull over the next question. "And -" You swallow thickly before continuing "What am I to you, Xavier?"

He doesn't say anything, instead he timidly pulls you closer by the back of your head, closing what little distance you had between your faces, his soft lips giving yours a chaste kiss. And when you don't pull away, your hand cupping his cheek, he pulls into a deep, hungry kiss, your bodies pressed hard, feeling every twitch of the muscle and pulse of your veins under your skin - and it's impossible to ignore growing bulge pressing your lower belly.

Xavier curses under his breath "Sorry, I - !" his words get lost in his throat when your hand grazes over his length over the clothes, your lips latching back onto his.

He groans and bites your bottom lip when you give it a few more strokes, feeling out his shape.

Fuck, it's thick.

Growing impatient, you tug at the waistband of the sinful gray sweats, and Xavier lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough to free his rock hard dick. You break away from the kiss to not so subtly look down and even under the low lights you can clearly see it. The sight of it makes you unconsciously rub your thighs and your mouth water.

You might've stared a little too long because a chuckle from the man under you pulls you out from your trance. But he doesn't tease you, maybe because it's your birthday, instead he pulls you back into another breathtaking kiss, while your hand wraps around his length, slowly stroking it.

But you need more - and in the next moment you're sliding down, adjusting yourself between his legs.

A few strokes to the base of his cock and your tongue on the leaking tip elicits a moan from Xavier's lips, and you discover that it's your new favorite sound. So you do what you need to do to hear more of it. Your swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting precum and the tender skin, before you take in more of his length, and greedily you take more and more before your nose is pressed on his pelvis, short hairs of his happy trail tickling you. You don't care how your jaw is barely holding on around his girth, his moans is what keeps you going and panties already drenched. All restrain from Xavier dissipates with every lick of your tongue and clenching of your throat around the tip.

"Fuck, you're doing so good."

His hips start moving faster than your rhythm, his hand on your head holding you in place. Under the hand that's holding you for balance, you can feel his thigh muscles tremble, and you can feel his cock throb in your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum, princess." He gives you the warning, and loosens his grip on your head, but you take it all in, needing to taste him. And in few shallow thrusts, you're tasting and swallowing his cum, not letting a drop go to waste.

You barely catch your breath before Xavier lifts you up and locks his lips with yours, tongue licking your lips and tongue, tasting himself. Then he switches the positions with you, and now you're on your back, stripped of your pants and underwear, Xavier's lips locked with yours and his middle finger sliding between your wet folds. You moan into the kiss as the finger slides into your entrance, quickly followed by a second one. Your hips start moving to meet the pace, the digits hitting all the right spots and your release already building up. Then his thumb presses your clit that was begging for attention, eliciting a yelp from you making Xavier smile against your lips before continuing kissing you. In a few more pumps of his fingers against your sweet spot, you're a panting mess as you cum around them.

When you come down from your high, he brings up those soaked fingers to his lips and licks them, the sight making you blush. His dick twitches in his underwear as he gets a taste of your essence. He needs more.

Before you can even protest about how you're wet enough, he pushes your legs further up against your torso, his face already between them, his breath fanning against your pussy spreading goosebumps all over your skin. The only thing that stopped him from latching onto your pretty pussy is his need to take in the sight of it for the first time.

You cover your face with your hands, too self-conscious about the close up he's getting, even if there's no lights in here. "Xavier..." You whine and move your hips as much as you can under his grasp.

He chuckles at your cute reaction and whispers how perfect you are, then he finally presses his tongue flat against your glistening folds, and your embarrassment melts away. One hand moves from the back of your thigh under your shirt, fondling your breast and playing with your hard nipple until you're squirming from over-sensitivity and he moves to the other one. His lips latch onto your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue around it, sucking and lapping at it, while his other hand finds its way back into your entrance, two fingers easily slipping in and finding the spots that make you moan and buck your hips.

"Just like that - " You breathe, raking your fingers through his hair and holding onto it, while your other hand grabs onto the arm rest behind you, anchoring yourself as Xavier's tongue and fingers stimulate you at just the right pace and you cry out when another orgasm courses through your body.

Xavier soothingly massages your breast and peppers your inner thighs with kisses as you catch your breath.

You hear him ask against your plush thigh "One more?"

Your eyes open and meet his half lidded gaze. You shake your head and grab his wrist "Just fuck me, please."

He was already on edge of another orgasm from just eating you out, and your breathy plea made him so dangerously closer. He positions himself on top of you and pulling down his underwear that now has a big wet spot from his leaking tip. You watch as he positions his cock against your pussy until you hear his soft voice

"Look me in the eyes, honey."

And you lock your gaze with his, eyes barely staying open as the swollen tip slides inside. With languid thrusts, his cock is buried to the hilt and now Xavier needs to anchor himself - he rests on his elbow, burying his face in the crook of your neck, licking and nipping sensitive skin. His other hand finds yours and holds it tight, interlocking fingers and resting it next to your head.

His thrust are deep and hard, his pelvis grazing your clit, making your cunt throb and squeeze around him, making his movements falter. With a strained voice he breathes against your neck "Gonna cum on my cock?"

You nod as you clench around him more when you hear his voice and see his face as he comes up to lock eyes with you and you grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy open mouthed kiss.

You squeeze his hand and lock your legs around his hips as they roll at the right angle.

"I'm so close, honey." He rasps.

And you are seconds away from your third orgasm, your pussy already spasming. "Need you - haah - inside -!"

You open your mouth in a silent cry his dick throbs in your already pulsing creaming cunt, filling it with hot cum. The two of you moan and grunt, erratically moving your hips, riding out each other's high.

With shaky breaths, you slowly calm down and open your eyes.

The two of you can't help but laugh a little when you see each other's blissed out faces. Xavier gives the hand he's still holding a kiss. Your other hand presses on his back to press you completely against him, needing to feel his whole weight on you.

"I'm not crushing you?" he asks as his face is nuzzled against your neck.

You gently stroke his now messy hair. "No let's stay like this for a while."

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

After cleaning up the mess on the sofa and showering, you're back in the dining room with the cherry pie on the table. Xavier put the candles on it and the princess crown back on your head. You're about to sit on Xavier's lap and then light the candles but then you remember something.

"Shoot, I almost forgot!"

Confused, Xavier watches you as you hurry out in the dining room. Your phone and the lighter are here, so he can't guess what you would need.

You come back with a giddy smile on your face as you hold something behind your back.

"Something for me?" he asks, amused at your expression.

"Yes, but it doesn't look that good because I had to make it quickly." You then reveal a handmade prince crown.

Xavier's eyes widen "When did you -?"

"I guess you forgot to clean up the living room after making mine, so I just scrambled something while you were showering."

Left speechless at your sweet gesture, his eyes switch between gazing at you and the crown.

You feel a little embarrassed at your craftsmanship because it looks poorly made compared to the one he made for you. "Okay, you looked at it enough. I'll make you a better one later."

He chuckles as you place it on his head and sit on his lap. He kisses your hand and then your lips "Thank you, I love it."

After lighting the candles, you close your eyes and make a wish.

[nvtstvrns]

Pretty Sounds - Matt Sturniolo

Matt x reader, smut, car sex, public

Summary: the triplets finished filming a video and Matt dropped Chris and Nick off at home to have a romantic drive with you for once because he’s been so busy, Things get heated and he ends up taking your virginity, he slowly coaxes noises out of you and pushes you to your first orgasm after telling him you couldn’t.

TW: innocence corruption, unprotected p n v (make sure you wrap it kids) smut, fingering, car sex, public?

A/N: I’m bored and I haven’t posted a fic in a minute

Divider creds @bernardsbendystraws

I was sitting at home listening to music and finishing some work on my laptop. I hum along to the music and lay on my stomach. It was almost two am and the triplets weren’t home yet. I get out my phone and ask Matt when he’s gonna be home, he said that they’re on their way home. I stand up and I put an off the shoulder shirt and some spandex. I walk downstairs and get myself a snack.

When I hear the garage door open my body gets warm and I sit backwards on the couch peeking over. Chris and Matt are the first to come inside.

“Hey pretty girl…” Matt says walking up to me and giving me a soft peck on the lips. I lay my head on the back cushion watching him put stuff away.

“Hey y/n.” Nick says when he finally walks inside holding his backpack and the camera.

“Hey Nick.” I say standing off the couch and stretching as I shuffle over to Matt hugging him from behind. His hands meet mine on his waist and I bury my head in his shoulder.

“What do you say we go for a ride?” He asks me kissing the top of my head. I nod and he stops what he’s doing and turns around picking me up off of my feet. I giggle softly and ruffle his hair.

“Can ya get a room, ya making me sick.” Chris says holding his hands to his stomach and pretending to throw up. I slap his head when I pass him. Matt puts me down.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good!” I tell him as I grab a blanket off the couch. “We’ll be back later bye Chris.”

Once I’m sitting in the passenger seat of matts car I feel calm. His car smelling just like him and the warmth of the seats. I wrap my blanket around my body and curl up in it. The rain starts soon after and I gasp. I loved the rain, absolutely loved it. There was something so nostalgic about rain.

I feel the car come to a stop in a secluded parking lot and I look at Matt. He looks nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him grabbing his hand and intertwining his fingers with mine.

“Nothing…I was j-just thinking and…uh well…” he looks down at his lap and my eyes follow his movements. I gasp.

“You can’t blame that on me, that’s not my fault.” I say laughing a little bit. He was so hard you could see it through his sweatpants.

I stare into his eyes for a second. “You know I’m a virgin?” I ask him quietly not expecting a great reaction. His eyes go wide and his mouth falls open a little bit.

“A girl like you has never had sex?” He asks gently.

“It’s never came up…” I say quietly. I felt weird and nervous. We’ve been dating for about 4 months but it’s never gone farther than kissing or heavy make-outs, he’s never even seen me naked! This was insane. “I’m kinda scared to have sex…” I add gently

“Really? Why?” Matt asks looking over at me with gentle eyes.

“I’ve masturbated and it’s hard to get myself to finish and sometimes it hurts, I don’t want to be laying there as someone is on the brink of an orgasm while I’m laying there quietly crying because I can’t coax it out of me.”

“What if I talked you through it and held your hand.” He asks leaning in closer to me. I look at him and smirk. I nod my head slowly.

He leans in so we’re kissing at the center counsel his lips moving with mine perfectly. His hand snaking underneath my shirt.

“Do you want to go in the backseat?” He asks quietly when we have a break.

I nod my head and I climb back first him following me.

He pulls me onto my lap looking up at me with wide loving eyes as his hands grip my waist.

His hands go beneath my shirt causing me to shiver. The only sounds heard was the loud pitter-patter of the downpouring rain on the car and our kissing. He started pulling my shirt up over my head very cautiously and carefully. I raise my hands over my head to help him take my shirt off easier. Now I was just in my baby blue lacy bra. I feel his head go in between my breasts and he kisses and licks the valley.

His other hand finds the back of my bra and I feel it unclip my breasts falling free from the bra. He pulls the straps off my arms slowly his breathing hitches when it’s all the way off.

“God, you’re beautiful girl…” he says. I giggle softly.

“Can I suck on your nipples…please?” He asks eyeing the soft buds. I nod my head and lean a little closer to him.

“No tell me you want it, verbal consent is hot.” He says kissing my cheek.

“I want you to suck my nipples matt…please.” I say looking him straight in the eyes.

He nods and he slowly takes one nipple in his mouth the heat around the sensitive nub made me shiver not realizing how cold it really was in the car. His mouth moves skillfully and I breathe heavy every now and then, not being able to get a sound out.

“Hey…r’you okay?” He asks after releasing my nipple with a pop.

“Yeah…I’m fine, please don’t stop.” I say desperately trying to push my nipples back into his mouth.

“Make those pretty sounds f’me pretty girl…tell me how much ya like it.” He says kissing the top of my breast. I nod my head. Being vocal felt uncomfortable but I shouldn’t be uncomfortable around Matt.

“I’ll try.” I say as his mouth reattaches. My back arches as I push into his mouth more. I let out a soft whimper to test the waters and he groans.

“Lay on your back ma.” He says gently. “And put your knees up.” I do as he says and I watch as he pulls my spandex off and then my panties to go along with them. His hands spread my legs apart a little bit more.

I was so wet to the point of dripping onto his seats. I felt bad but I was too caught up in the moment.

“Eat me out Matt…please eat me out.” He smiles as I tell him what I want him to do. This was really new to me and I was scared, but I wanted to experience it, and no one could be better than Matt. His hand reaches up to mine as he intertwines our fingers and holds my hand tightly. His mouth gets closer and closer and he’s on that nub of nerves quickly, my hips buck from immense pleasure and I gasp softly.

“Pretty souuunds.” Matt reminds me. I smile gently feeling more relaxed as he talks to me.

His mouth starts going faster on my clit using his other hand to push in and out of me coaxing me slowly towards an orgasm. My legs tighten around his head gently.

“You okay?” He asks looking up at me. I tell him yes and he continues going faster and faster until finally with a cry of his name I cum all over his face and fingers. He keeps going at my spent pussy and I tighten my legs more and he spreads them apart. My hands fly to his head desperately trying to push him off.

“Matt I can’t—please stop…” I say my legs still tightening as my hands shove his head, when he heard me say please stop he stops his movements and reveals his face covered in my juices. My inner walls clench around nothing.

“Was that as bad as you thought it’d be ma?” He asks climbing back up and unbuttoning his pants.

I shake my head and grab his hand tightly pulling him down to kiss me. I feel his free hand pull down his pants and I feel his cock bounce against my stomach.

“Take it. My virginity is yours, please…” I say gently. He grins and he holds my hand tighter than ever, he warns me that it might hurt and I whimper softly. I feel his tip push in and I tense up immediately my eyes watering as he stretches me out. Tears run down my face and he wipes them gently.

“Deep breaths pretty girl, you’ve got it.” He says pushing a little deeper inside me. I grip his hand tighter and pull it against my chest letting him feel my heartbeat. Once he’s all the way in he sits there for a second and then moves slowly.

I whimper softly my hips moving against his. I arch my back and let the pleasure take over my body. His hand gone in between our bodies and he stimulates my clit as I slowly get closer and closer.

“Shit where do you want me to cum?” He asks looking around.

“Inside…please inside.” I say gripping his hand as he releases his load inside me.

When we’re done I feel a little towel in between my legs cleaning me up.

“Where’d you get the towel from?” I ask my body and mind weary.

“It was folded into your blanket.” He says.

“Oh! That’s weird.” I say giggling.

“Come on up here.” He says as he climbs back into the drivers seat. He was already fully dressed and I had my underwear on.

“I wanna stay back here.” I say laying on my side and curling my knees up. He chuckles and then he comes to the backseat and wraps me up in the blanket. I fall asleep to the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and stay asleep the whole way home. I wake up to Matt wrapping the blanket securely around me and picking me up bridal style as I’m wrapped in a burrito. His body was warm and I felt warm. Chris and Nick were still up for some reason and they saw me being carried in.

“What’d ya do?” Chris asks. Matt shakes his head and says nothing walking into his room and closing the door laying me in his bed.

“Good night pretty girl…” he says kissing my forehead.

“Good night Matt..” I say and I fall asleep.

Thank you for reading! Have a great day!

[reidingandwriting]

domestic > keigo takami/hawks (mha)

Word Count: 3.6k

Ship: Keigo/Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Corrupt hero commission (we hate the hero commission on this blog), keigo overworks himself, keigo & reader fight, miscommunication, some cursing, keigo’s a little shit (he has his reasons okay), mentions of a rescue mission and the aftermath, hurt/comfort

A/N: So sorry this fic is so delayed 😭 Have been going Through It lately but I’ve got a few fics queued up to make up for my absence ❤️ This is my favorite Keigo fic so far

“pro hero hawks is the first on the scene!”

“pro hero hawks took down the villain that’s injured dozens, including some pro heroes!”

“another takedown by pro hero hawks.”

“hawks is finally on the scene, this should be over soon.”

-

keigo wasn’t answering his phone. which was expected for the first night. he had just come home from a week long mission and on his flight home, another issue came up that he had to answer to. he didn’t get home until midnight, having refused any other hero’s offer to relieve him once his shift had technically ended, until best jeanist all but escorted him off the scene. you had hoped keigo had been resting when you walked into your office the next morning, until you looked at the news and saw he was already back out on patrols.

when you walked into keigo’s office, you expected to see a mountain of paperwork on his desk. you were fully prepared to work all day to catch him up, hoping to surprise him by finishing all his work for him. you were the one surprised when you saw only one paper on his desk, a note for you.

‘gonna be working late tonight, don’t wait up for me’

you scowled as you read the note, even if you had to fight the urge to melt when you saw the little bird doodle keigo had signed the note with. you once again called keigo, this time his work number, and you resisted the urge to throw your phone at the wall when your call once again went unanswered. you pulled up your text conversation with keigo and began to type.

‘you’re going home tonight. i will be outside at eight and you will let me in. i am not kidding when i tell you i’ll wait all night. please, just let me know you’re okay.’

you knew the text would go unanswered, but you hoped. you hoped that he would read it, at the least. that he would talk to you. your phone buzzed and you quickly picked it up, and you sighed when it was just another text from rumi.

‘i’ve seen him pass by once or twice, but he doesn’t stop. i’ve got a few others looking out for him, i’ll let you know if i hear anything’

you set your phone down with a sigh as you sat back in the office chair. this was going to be a long night.

you texted keigo a warning before you entered his apartment. you had been given a key by keigo to use in case of emergencies, and your chatty birdbrain suddenly ghosting you is an emergency in your eyes. it was two AM when you entered, and you felt your eyes begin to sting when you realized keigo wasn’t home. a quick search on the hero network showed that he was last seen a little after ten, and none of your own security alerts had gone off at your apartment. he was at his agency, avoiding you. it stung, the avoidance settling heavy in your chest, weighing you down as if there was a physical weight on your body.

you texted a quick update to rumi before you left keigo’s, and you made the walk back to your own apartment. keigo would definitely have lectured you any other time if he knew you walked home alone, and a selfish part of you hoped he’d find out. you’d take the scolding if it meant he would talk to you.

you flinched as you heard a voice speak from beside you.

“surprised he let you walk home alone at this hour,” you relaxed once you recognized the drawl of eraserhead’s voice. “your guard bird working tonight?”

“you’re going to sneak up on me at the wrong time one day and you’re going to get your shit rocked,” you replied, no real heat to your words.

“i’ll take my chances.” a hint of a smirk graced his face before it relaxed into his usual stoic expression.

“but no, he’s not working tonight.” you paused. “not patrolling at least. he is working hard at avoiding me, though.” while you and eraserhead, aizawa, had only met a few times, you had established a friendly relationship with the underground hero. you had also developed a friendship with present mic, which seemed to influence eraserhead’s opinion of you. odd.

“that’s… different.” eraserhead says after a moment. “i’ll keep an eye out for him, and i’ll have hiz- present mic look out for him as well.”

the two of you continued to talk as he escorted you to your apartment. minutes later, you opened the door to your apartment and let the door shut with a soft click, and you barely made it to the couch before you fell asleep.

-

“ooh, rough night?” one of the tech interns, kazuki, teases as he watches you walk in.

“hilarious.” you scowled. you knew you looked tired; you woke up frequently throughout the night, unable to sleep for more than half an hour at a time. you gave up on sleep around five thirty this morning, and you clutched to the thermos of coffee in your hands like it was the only thing keeping you alive. “didn’t really sleep much last night.”

“hawks working you too hard? i saw him walking around a few minutes ago. looks like he was headed to his office,” your heart stopped at those words. was he actually here?

“thank you, kazuki!” you called as you sprinted for the elevator, reminding yourself to send kazuki a proper thank you later. when you burst into keigo’s office, you jumped back as a sharpened red feather flew at you, stopping mere centimeters away from your neck.

“shit, you scared me.” keigo smiled when he recognized you, and the sight of it filled you with anger. “oh, sorry. let me just.” keigo’s feather returned to its natural state and you swatted it away as it went to caress your cheek, not in the mood for his usually sweet antics. “songbird? you okay?”

and you couldn’t help but laugh. full body, doubled over laughs. keigo tilted his head, confusion flashing across his face as you continued to laugh. your name left keigo’s lips, and you recognized the slight movements he was making. he was twitchy, like he wanted to move but he couldn’t decide which move was the best. you could practically hear the wheels in his head turning and you looked up at the ceiling as you felt the familiar sting of unshed tears in your eyes.

“you son of a bitch,” you whispered. you looked at him and his form became blurry, the tears now sliding down your cheeks. “you, you have me worried for days. you ignored my calls and texts, i even had other heroes looking out for you!” you started to walk towards him and you stopped just out of his reach. “you went to the point of staying here to avoid seeing me. why?” you finally met his gaze and golden eyes were filled with an emotion you didn’t recognize. his gaze was cold, distant. yet still, he kept the smile on his face, the smile he plastered on for annoying news reporters.

“i’ve been busy.”

“you’re running yourself ragged! you’re going to get hurt or cause someone else to get hurt because you’re working yourself to death.” you reached out and jabbed him in the chest.

“you don’t understand. you never will, so why are you even trying to? i can’t answer every call and text from my assistant.”

“that’s all i am to you? your assistant?” you asked. you were met with silence and you felt your heart begin to break. “look me in the eyes and tell me that’s all i am to you. and i promise, from now on, that’s all you’ll get from me.”

“what else would you be?”

wordlessly, you dug your key ring from your jacket pocket. you pulled off the key that belonged to keigo’s, to hawks’s, apartment and you set it down on his desk.

“noted. since you’ve clearly got a handle on things, i think i’ll be taking the next two days off for some personal days. i’ll be back on monday, hawks.” the name felt foreign on your lips and his wings twitched in response. you wordlessly spun on your heel and slammed hawks’s office door shut behind you. you could feel the stares from everyone in kei- hawks’s agency watching you, and you briefly shook your head when you saw kazuki before rushing out of the building, straight into the rain that had suddenly started to downpour. because of course it did.

as you walked in the rain to the bus stop, you ignored the frequent buzzing that came from your pocket.

“what else would you be?” echoed through your head, and you couldn’t believe that came from kei- his lips. what happened during his last mission? you shook your head to clear your thoughts.

“just an assistant,” you muttered under your breath. “what the hell, birdie?”

-

it was the middle of the night and you were sitting on your couch, eating from a carton of ice cream as you flipped through the channels on TV. you had finished your second movie of the night when you stumbled across the news. you paused when you saw hawks’s name flash across the bottom of the screen and you wanted to change the channel. but you couldn’t.

“eight hours later, the search and rescue has been completed. over 200 victims were rescued from the destruction thanks to the effort of our number two hero. thank you to pro hero hawks for being the first hero to respond, and the last to leave the tragic scene of the collapsed apartment complex.”

the reporter continued to talk about the injuries and the casualties, and you scanned the screen for him, not seeing a glimpse of red anywhere, save for some discarded feathers on the ground. you pulled out your phone immediately and searched online for something, anything about your- kei- hawks. your messages were full of texts from rumi and kazuki. a few from present mic, even a text from best jeanist’s assistant with a message from the pro.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door and you jumped off the couch. you glanced at the time, a little after midnight. you had hopes for who it was. you also didn’t know what you’d do if it was him. you slowly walked to the front door, willing your heart rate to calm down, and you reached forward to open the door.

you gasped at the sight in front of you, your phone clattering to the floor but you paid it no attention. hawks stood at your door, covered in dirt and dust and… blood? his jacket was gone, pants torn and ripped to barely there shreds of fabric. his flight goggles and headphones were gone, hair caked in dirt and sweat and he looked like he was seconds from falling over. he looked small without his massive wings behind him, most of the feathers left at the scene.

“‘m sorry. i tried, tried to go home. you were closer and,” hawks gestured to himself. “kind of grounded. i’m sorry, i can go.” he swayed a bit. you dove forward as he stumbled, and you held him up as he leaned into you. you kicked the door shut and you repositioned yourself to better support the hero as you walked towards your bathroom. “what are you doin’?” his voice was hoarse, and you made note to grab him water, as well as a million other things once you got him settled.

“first, im gonna clean you up. get some water for you, heat up some leftovers, and get you in clean clothes before i put you in bed.”

“what? no- i. i was horrible. you can’t… you can’t be nice to me. not after everything i said.” hawks said and you shushed him.

“shh, you’re going to wreck your voice more. we’ll talk once you’re taken care of.” you walked into the bathroom and made quick work of setting up a shower. you started to step away to grab towels and you felt a hand grab your arm.

“don’t leave me. please,” he rasped and you turned to face him, your heart aching at the sight in front of you. your keigo.

“not going anywhere. just grabbing towels, yeah?” you walked with him to the hallway, and you grabbed your fluffiest towels. you then grabbed a caddy full of keigo’s favorite toiletries. his shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and oil for his wings. he was missing a lot of feathers, but you’d take care of what was left. he was hurt, your birdie was hurt. it was your turn to be the hero, to make sure he was okay.

when you returned to the bathroom a minute later, keigo’s tired eyes lit up at your return.

“let’s get you in the shower, yeah?“ you set the towels down, put his supplies in the shower, and turned on the shower to his preferred temperature. you then walked to him and placed a gentle hand on his shirt. you glanced up at him and when he nodded, you gently began to peel his uniform off him. you quickly scanned him as you removed more articles of clothing, taking note of any new injuries and were relieved to see relatively little. once keigo had been stripped, you stepped into the shower with him, ignoring the fact you still had your t-shirt and sleep shorts on. your only focus was keigo right now, and you guided him under the shower head.

keigo’s exhaustion had seemed to hit as he leaned against you, and you supported him as you let the water get the top layer of grime off him. “there we go,” you soothed as you shifted, reaching for his shampoo. “there’s my birdie,” a weak chirp left him and you smiled sympathetically. “think you can sit so i can wash your hair?”

wordlessly, keigo moved to kneel down and once he settled, you began to scrub his hair. your hands worked in his hair until they ached, getting everything from the collapsed building from his hair before you added the shampoo. you took your time sudsing up his hair, and you smiled when you brushed some baby feathers in his hairline that caused keigo to coo quietly. keigo pressed a kiss to your stomach as you worked and leaned into your touch, much like a cat being petted. you helped him stand back up once you were ready to wash his body, and keigo practically laid against the wall of the shower as you worked to clean him off efficiently but quickly.

what felt like ages later, you turned the shower off and wrapped keigo up in a towel. you used the other towel to pat your own clothes dry quickly before you started to towel dry his hair.

“why are you… being so nice to me?” keigo asked and you frowned.

“i’m always going to care about you, pretty bird. you were a dick earlier,” you admitted. “but like it or not, you’ve wormed your way into my heart. you deserve to be taken care of, kei. we both know you don’t do it enough for yourself.” you moved to stand behind keigo and you looked at him in the mirror. “is it okay if i touch them?” you glanced at his baby wings and back at him. you held the oil in your hand, letting him see what your intentions were and you panicked when you saw his eyes fill with tears.

-

keigo couldn’t believe it. he had been horrible to you. he had tried to be horrible, he had never planned to come back to you this way. but he did and you? you dumbfounded him with how you treated him. as if you had just had a little spat over him breaking your heart. he could feel your heartbeat change during the conversation you two had in his office, he could practically hear your heart breaking over his words. but when he came to you, bloody and dirty, wings practically gone, and you treated him so tenderly. so… lovingly. when the first tear slid down his cheek, a dam broke. keigo chirped in surprise as you spun him around before he threw himself into your arms. he sobbed as he clung to you, as if you’d vanish into nothingness if he let go.

your arms immediately tightened around him and you used one hand to stroke his wing, the other combed through his hair so gently, sad warbles left his throat. “whatever happened,” you started. “we’ll handle it. me and you, yeah?” keigo tried to respond but couldn’t force any words out, more chirps leaving him as he nodded against your neck. “that’s my songbird.” you held him until his sobs turned into soft cries, and the cries into the occasional sniffle. keigo’s wing twitched as he felt you began to pay more attention to the feathers, and his eyes began to well up with tears again as he realized. you were preening him.

you’ve straightened his feathers out before a handful of times, usually for shoots or press interviews. he’s never had this much attention paid to them before, never in such a caring way at least. his body became lax against you, pleased coos and quiet chirps leaving his throat every now and then.

once you had finished, you led keigo to your room. you walked to the drawer with keigo’s things and he watched as you pulled out clothes for him to sleep in. “gonna change out of my wet clothes real quick, okay?” he nodded and you smiled softly at him before walking to your own side of the dresser. the two of you got dressed in a comfortable silence and you guided him to the living room, where minutes later, you settled onto the couch with dinner. keigo stayed curled into your side and you seemed perfectly content as you stroked his hair.

what felt like an eternity later, keigo was finally able to speak again. “i tried to come home. when i got off that mission. it.. it went horrible and i just wanted you. but i fail- they had told me i failed. i wasn’t as efficient as i should be, one of the villains had managed to escape before i caught him again. if i was a proficient hero, he never would have gotten a chance to get away.” you looked up as keigo spoke, and keigo struggled to maintain eye contact with you. you always seemed to see him, and that was terrifying.

“so i was already beating myself up when they sent me to another disaster, to redeem myself,” he quoted and you scowled at the words. “and i did better, that’s what they told me. and for a minute, i didn’t feel like a failure anymore. i felt worthy of my hero title so i…”

“you stayed busy, worked harder and harder to get rid of that bad feeling.” you finished for him and keigo nodded.

“but no matter what i did, how many patrols i went on, how many hours late i worked, it wasn’t good enough. they said i’m letting personal things get in the way of me being a good hero, that i was a better hero alone.” keigo trailed off and you looked sad, yet angry at the same time.

“they were the reason for our fight.” you said and keigo hummed in response.

“still. i never should have said what i did,” keigo cupped your cheek and you leaned into the touch. “i need you to know. need you to know you’re so much more to me than an assistant. maybe i’m a worse hero for it, but i love you. i love you, so much.” keigo’s voice shook and you scooted closer to him.

“i love you too,” you whispered. you glanced at keigo’s lips then back up at him, golden gaze meeting your own. you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, and keigo let out a soft breath as he kissed you. he had kissed you countless times, but none had ever been this soft. this slow, this.. vulnerable. there was no rush, nothing you were aiming for. just the two of you intertwined, and keigo didn’t break the kiss until he was out of breath, and he smiled at the quiet whine you made. “i think,” you said after a minute. “you need a few days to recover. bed rest, doctor’s orders.”

“you’re a doctor now, hmm?” keigo smiled as he pressed lazy kisses down your jaw and you pulled a blanket over the two of you. “can’t argue with doctor’s orders.”

“bed rest is the first step in treatment. cuddles could speed up the healing process, as well.” you said matter-of-factly as you tangled your legs with his own. keigo closed his eyes as you buried your face into his chest, and as you rubbed his back, keigo’s thoughts became fuzzy.

“careful, will stay here forever.” you nuzzled closer and keigo vaguely remembered your reply before you fell asleep.

“i’d love nothing more.”

[sofreddie]

Not Our First Fan

Summary: Y/N is a friend, but also a fan. Dosing her with a truth serum should reveal if she's a threat, like other fans in the past. But what's revealed surprised them even more.

Characters: Dean x F!Reader, Sam, Castiel, Rowena

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Drugging, First POV/Alternating POV, Smut (Protected Sex, Oral Sex), Mentions of Breeding Kink

WC: 12, 393 (Yikes!)

A/N: Ok, so, over the course of a few months, when I had to take my roommate's kid to speech therapy, I sat in the car in the parking lot and just wrote. A little each time until it grew into this massive and awesome fic, and I am so happy to share it! Feedback is appreciated. : )

My Masterlist

Y/N POV

I sat in stunned silence across the table from Sam and Dean, my eyes flitting between them as I processed what Sam had just said. There was a truth serum in my drink. He had questions and didn’t trust my potential responses.

I hadn’t been with them long, an accident that landed me - a mere fan - in their lives. Although we had become amicable, I never thought they’d use such methods.

“So, what do you want to know?”

I was surprised at my calm tone as I polished off my drink and pushed the glass away. It was already in me; there was no need to be thirsty or sober.

“The truth.”

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes at Sam before glancing at Dean, who sat silently and watched.

“We have to know; to protect ourselves. Not our first fan.”

I rolled my eyes again. I knew that, too, but it didn’t stop me from feeling offended.

“Is there a question, or…?”

Sam snorted at my attitude. There was no escaping this, so I hoped I could play it like it didn’t scare me or that I had nothing to hide.

“Fine.” He sat up straighter and shook his arms before leaning forward, casually resting his arms on the table as he leveled a heavy gaze at me. “How do you honestly think and feel about me?”

He smirked slightly at my surprised look. I didn’t want to answer, but I could feel the words bubbling up on their own, trying to hold them back, making me sick to my stomach.

“You’re really freakin’ hot. Nice to look at. I would love a night or two to bang you like a screen door in a hurricane. But there’s a lot I don’t like, and I don’t see anything beyond friends because of your issues.”

My eyes widened with every word that fell, and I was mortified when I finished. I couldn’t read Sam, but he seemed equally surprised, smug, and offended. At least it shut him up for a minute. Dean, however, was unchanged and unreadable.

“Well, I guess it’s safe to say it’s working,” Sam huffed humorlessly.  

I wished a hole would open and swallow me up, take me away from this forming shitstorm.

“So,” he leaned forward again, and I already knew what he would ask next. I shook my head, silently begging him not to. “How do you honestly think and feel about Dean?”

God, I fought. My fingers gripped the table, and I shook my head as pained sounds passed through my pressed-shut lips. The word vomit was collecting in the back of my throat to choke me.

"Y/N?" Sam pressed, probably wondering - same as myself - how I was holding back. Dean's shell cracked enough that I could see concern.

“I love and admire him,” I spat, the words painfully and forcefully pulled from me, my heart and mind feeling shredded with each uttered word. “I’m in love with him. I want to show him he is worthy of love and be the one to give it to him. And kids. And the Hunter Pie life. To give him all he ever wanted because he deserves it and more.”

Tears streamed down my face, and I panted to breathe as twin looks of utter shock passed over the brothers.

“Please,” I begged, jumping from my seat. “Please, no more. Don’t do this.”

As they hesitated, I took the opening and ran like hell from the Library to my room. I could hear them shouting as I retreated in horror.

“Don’t. Let her go, Sam.”

“Dean!”

I slammed and locked the bedroom door behind me, then slowly fell into bed, hard sobs wracking my body, and my heart shattered until I passed out.

-

I was determined to forget about it when I woke up. Or, I would do my best to ignore them and continue my usual domestic duties. 

I went to the bathroom and the kitchen to start coffee and breakfast. I liked helping out, and Dean especially seemed appreciative, which only encouraged me. Would that change now? Maybe they’d make me leave because what I said was too awkward.

As I finished cooking, I heard the Bunker door close, meaning Sam must have returned from his morning run and would be heading to the showers. Another door closing alerted me that Dean would be entering the kitchen at any moment seeking coffee.

I sipped from my mug on the island as he shuffled into the room like a half-asleep zombie and poured himself a cup. It took a few gulps before he could open his eyes enough to see me.

“Mornin’,” he spoke gruffly, and I fought back the swoon as usual.

“Mornin’,” I responded. “Uh, there’s breakfast. Help yourself.”

I forced a smile, then grabbed my mug, taking hurried steps desperate to carry me out of the room and away from the man I loved—who now knew I loved him. But that beautiful man was also intelligent and quick and wouldn’t let me get away so quickly.

“Y/N?” He sat down his coffee and stepped closer. “About last night. I’m sorry; that shouldn’t have happened. We… were paranoid and worried it might be like Becky or something all over again, and we just wanted to be sure.”

As he explained, I looked to the ground but nodded to his words. In a way, I got it, but it still didn’t make it okay.

“You never…” he paused and licked his lips. “You never said anything. Never even gave a hint. I mean,” he chuckled, “I really didn’t see that coming.”

“I was never going to say anything,” I admitted, and he looked confused and something else. “I was never going to act on it. It was my secret and my burden. But now it’s all weird, and you probably want me to leave.”

Oh Lord, I couldn’t cry in front of him again!

“Why would I want you to leave?”

His question left me speechless, and I wasn’t sure how best to answer.

“You know,” he moved as he spoke, approaching closer and closer until my back hit the counter, and there was an arm’s length between us. “Women have told me they love me and can picture a life or future with me. But never in this life, never in a hunting life. And none of them, not one, has ever wanted to have my children.”

Okay. Where was he going with this? I was too nervous and scared to move or make a sound. I dared to meet his eyes and instantly regretted it as I felt my heart flutter madly.

“And I have no idea what a Hunter Pie life is,” he chuckled before moving just a few inches before me. “But I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

His words, eyes, and closeness were daring me to do something. But that couldn’t be right. In all my fantasies, I never believed that he would ever entertain the idea. But now… Dean groaned as his phone rang in his pocket, and I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Jody, hey," Dean answered, stepping a few feet away to focus on the call. “Yeah, Okay. Sam and I can be there in a couple of hours. All right, see you soon.”

He hung up and sighed, returning to me as Sam entered the room. We all glanced at each other before Dean cleared his throat.

“Jody and the girls,” Dean tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Got a case, and they need our help. Ready in ten?”

Sam huffed but nodded, giving the food a yearning glance before rushing to pack. Dean lingered, running a hand down his face and flashing a tight smile before heading off to get ready. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or sad, but I was certainly confused.

I rushed through the kitchen, packing up breakfast and some other food for them to take with them. I always tried to give them premade meals in thermal coolers that they could refrigerate or microwave. They seemed to appreciate having home-cooked food while away.

As the brothers loaded their bags, I carried the cooler and a paper bag of immediate consumables to the car. I placed the cooler on the back floorboard before handing Dean the paper bag.

“Thanks,” he grinned, passing the bag to Sam, who immediately started digging through it. I expected him just to climb in and leave, but he paused while fidgeting with his keys.

“Please don’t leave while we’re gone.”

I wasn’t expecting that, but the idea was one of many emotionally driven bad decisions I had been considering.

“We’ll talk,” he promised with a nod. “I’ll text and call, and we’ll talk.”

I nodded and gave the same tight-lipped smile he’d given before. Then, I let out a sigh of relief as they drove away.

-

Dean POV

God, this hunt came at the shittiest possible time. I didn’t want to go. Leaving felt like closing the door on this thing I just discovered. But I didn’t have a choice.

Jody and Claire stumbled on a vamp nest that was the biggest they’d ever seen. It was a giant damn hive. Though she’d called Donna and a few others, it was an ‘all hands on deck’ situation. It didn’t mean I wanted to leave. Something was brewing, changing between Y/N and me. I was terrified it would disappear if I couldn’t tend to it. But if she genuinely meant what she said, then I supposed this could be a test of that. Or maybe even a way to feel it out over text. Face-to-face always made shit complicated and awkward. I was less likely to fuck anything up this way, but still fully capable.

“So,” Sam broke the silence, and my grip tightened on the wheel. “We gonna talk about what happened last night?”

“Sam, I told you to leave it.”

“No, Dean!”

His persistence pissed me off. I didn’t want to get into it with him, but he was on a mission.

“Look, we agreed to give her the serum and question her. We wanted to see what she knew and if she was a threat, like Becky. I thought asking those questions first might be awkward but clear the air. I wasn’t expecting…that.”

“She’s not a threat, Sam.”

“Well, we don’t know that because we didn’t get to ask her anything.”

“What’s really got you so worked up, huh? You mad she’s just not that into you?”

My brother’s annoyed bitchface was satisfying enough to make me smirk. At least he shut up for half a second.

“Don’t you get it?” Sam growled through clenched teeth. “She could be YOUR Becky, Dean. Who knows what she might do if she thinks she loves you.”

My hands wrung the wheel a little harder as I resisted the urge to hit him. I’m unsure why I felt so protective of her then, but I knew she wasn’t like Becky. She wasn’t like any of them, but I couldn’t prove it to him.

“Sam, let me handle this. Please.”

His stunned silence made me glance over to see him gaping like a fish and over-analyzing.

“Yeah. Okay.” He huffed, turning his gaze to the window. I rolled my eyes so hard my head went with it.

“Don’t say ‘Yeah. Okay.’ like…Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, pretending to lose interest in the conversation. “Okay.”

I pressed the pedal harder. Maybe this hunt came at the perfect time. I really needed something to kill.

-

It was a bloodbath: so many vamps and beheadings, so many injured hunters, so many dead or turned victims. Though we cleared the nest with no casualties to our team, it didn’t feel like much of a victory. No one was saved.

There was still celebration and rivalry to be had as we patched each other up and cheered over the mass amount of bloodsucking bastards we killed and future victims we spared.

It was just what I needed to get the itching energy and simmering anger at my brother out of my system. Now buzzed and beat, I only wanted one thing at that moment. As everyone, including my overgrown baby brother, went to bed, I grabbed my beer and quietly wandered outside. I found myself sitting on Baby’s hood and appreciating the quiet and still night. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Y/N. It was late, and she might be asleep, but I needed to hear her voice. 

I’d kept my word, and we’d been texting, but it was mostly to keep her apprised of the hunt. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it or her since those seemingly fateful words tumbled from her lips. As her sleepy voice answered, I felt a flutter in my heart, making me feel like a kid again.

“Dean?” she yawned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Hunt’s done. Was a ton of them bastards.” I tried to laugh but knew she’d see through it

“Is everyone alright?”

“Little banged up, but we’re all good. No vics to save, though.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a mess,” I sighed, and a comfortable silence fell between us. I needed a distraction. “You never did tell me about this Hunter Pie life of yours.” I chuckled for real this time, maybe some of it nerves, as I hoped she’d talk to me and open up without a serum. When she giggled, I felt the flutters again.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just…tell me how it looks. In your mind, how does it go?”

“Wow,” she huffed and chuckled again before clearing her throat. “Um, okay.”

The silence drew out again, and I wondered if she was backing out, but then she continued.

“Okay. Well, I guess I always thought it would be like it is now, you know? Like me cooking and domestic and stuff at the Bunker.”

She ‘always’ thought? I pinned a note in that for later, but I hoped she had more. I hummed to let her know I was listening. She just didn’t know I was hanging on to her every word.

“Family meals where you and Sam tell the kids and me about the hunt. Giving them a normal life and home base while keeping them informed and trained. Hide and seek in the Bunker with Nerf guns and call it a hunt.”

She was laughing, and I could hear her smile as she spoke, mine growing with her tales.

“There are so many scenarios where you could play games with the kids that’s still training. Or just spending time doing normal things.”

It sounded amazing, though I wasn’t entirely convinced it was possible. But hearing and picturing it made me feel infinitely better, among other things.

“And what about us?” I knew I was crossing a line into new territory. Begging her to tell me all this, I knew, was giving her hope—and much-needed hope for me.

“Us?” She echoed, and I grinned at her surprised tone. “I just want to take care of you. To show you that you are worthy and deserve it all and more. To be lucky enough to be in your arms. To give you whatever you need and want. To hold you, listen, patch you up, and watch movies in bed while eating junk food.”

We laughed together, and I had to wipe away a tear. I could see it so clearly. I wished I was there to wrap her in my arms like she described. The WANT that simmered within me was something I’d never felt before.

When she yawned, I felt like an ass, having woken her just to make myself feel better. But it did exactly what I’d hoped.

“I’m sorry; I’m gonna let you get back to bed. It’s late.”

“You sure?” 

She seemed disappointed, and I was, too. But we both needed sleep and the sooner I got that, the quicker I’d return to her.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Sooner I sleep, the sooner I can get home.”

I hadn’t meant to say that, but her soft chuckle made it worthwhile.

“I’ll be waiting.”

We said our goodnights and hung up. She’d be waiting for me, for us to begin. I just needed a couple of hours of sleep, and then I’d push Baby to her limits to get back home as quickly as possible.

-

Y/N POV

What the fuck was that? What just happened? I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes but couldn’t fight the tiredness pulling me back under.

When I woke up again, I felt good and refreshed. Then I remembered the call from the night before. I dove for my phone on the nightstand to find a text from Dean.

Dean: Heading out soon. See you in a few hours. ;)

It had already been nearly two hours since he’d sent the text. I jumped out of bed in a panic, knowing there wasn’t much time before they’d return. Did he even sleep?

I rushed to shower and dress before going to the kitchen and making coffee. I wasn’t sure how much time I had, but I knew Sam and Dean would be hungry.

I tried to focus on cooking, but I kept replaying our conversation from the night before. And what was with the winky face? Did last night mean something, or did he need comfort after a lousy hunt? The things I said—how could I look him in the eye?

When the roar of the Impala entering the garage sounded through the Bunker, I fought the urge to run and hide. Just…act NORMAL.

“Damn, it smells good in here.”

I turned to see Sam and Dean entering the kitchen with big smiles. However, they both looked like they’d had their asses handed to them on that hunt. 

“We’re fine,” Dean answered, my concern written on my face. This was gonna be harder than I thought.

“I figured y’all would probably be hungry.”

“He’s always hungry,” Sam teased as he made a plate. I was glad he seemed to ease the tension I was choking on.

“Just glad that’s all over,” Dean responded, joining Sam at the table.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” I told them before slinking to my room to hide like a coward.

Just as I thought, I couldn’t look either of them in the eye. What if they talked about it, about me? Of course, they did. Were things just going to be unbearably awkward now? How long could I pretend and hide?

Turns out, not long at all.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Dean knocked on the partially open door before opening it and stepping inside the room.

“Hey, Dean. Need something?”

Yeah, just keep it cool—really chill.

“Yeah,” he grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. Wait, was he nervous? “I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie in my room or something.”

This really was happening.

“Netflix and chill?” I teased and laughed, watching his tension ease. “That’s your play?”

“Well, you’re the one who mentioned it in our planned future,” he teased back, and my confidence faltered for a minute.

“I thought you might want to get some sleep. It didn’t seem you got much between our call and that text.”

“Then we’ll watch and nap,” he shrugged, taking my hand and guiding me to his room. And, of course, I went willingly, following him in a trance and soaking up the warmth of his touch.

Once in his room, he released my hand to set up something on the TV. I sat on the end of the bed, hands in my lap as I awkwardly tried to figure out what to do and how to act. He kicked off his shoes and flannel, leaving him in jeans and a t-shirt before dramatically flopping onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“Come here?” he asked as he patted the space beside him.

“‘Kay,” I grinned and eagerly slid beside him, smiling harder as his arm settled around my shoulders, tucking me into his side.

I had dreamed and fantasized about this moment - as simple and innocent as it may be - so many times, and now it was a reality. I was more than surprised that his reaction to my truth was desire. But if he genuinely gave me a chance, I was determined to give him everything I said and more. Whatever he wanted, I was prepared to give.

-

Dean POV

It had been years since I’d done something as simple as cuddling and watching a movie. It felt intimate and special. As she quoted a line from the film, eating some junk food I’d laid out, I wondered if it was a djinn dream or a spell.

I wasn’t a blind fool, much as Sam tried to insist I was. I knew she was a fan, and we didn’t know much about her, which was why I agreed to the serum to begin with.

But I’d observed her plenty in her time with us. She was kind and helpful and an artist in the kitchen. She was a natural caregiver. She was funny and charming. She was super bright, too, with how she spoke, things she knew, and how easily she took to research - which she also happened to be great at. It didn’t hurt she was hot as fuck, but she had no clue.

Then, learning she was in love with me sent my mind reeling. I wasn’t a total idiot - letting this, her, pass me by would be the dumbest thing ever. I had to try, take a chance, or regret it forever.

She noticed when I glanced at her, turning her head to meet my eyes. Letting the moment sweep me away, I leaned in, pleasantly surprised when she slowly met me in the middle. My eyes fluttered, and I hummed at the sweet little spark that tingled my lips. I tilted my head, kissing her a little harder, more sure. She responded in kind, and that spark shot down my spine.

Cupping her jaw, I titled her head as I ran my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging her to open to me. I needed to taste her as much as I needed my next breath.

When she parted her lips, a gentle moan spilled forth. When my tongue slipped past her lips and tasted her soft, warm tongue, a responding moan was ripped from my chest. She tasted divine. Her tongue chased after my own, but I could feel her restraint. She was holding back; I knew it was because she was unsure, not in her feelings or wanting me. Instead, she didn’t know what I was after, too afraid to push forward and break the spell.

I pulled back, intent on breaching the topic, but a knock at my door broke the trance. Stupid Sam and his lousy timing. Another firm series of knocks had me rolling my eyes and groaning. Reluctantly, I released Y/N and opened the door; Sam was surprised to see her on the bed behind me.

“Hey, do you have a minute?” he asked, casting her a wary glance. I stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind me, following him a few feet down the hall.

“What, Sam?”

-

Sam POV

I wanted to talk to Dean about Y/N and this whole situation. I wasn’t expecting to find her in Dean’s bed with flushed cheeks. This whole thing was quickly spinning out of control.

“Het, got a minute?”

I didn’t want to have this conversation with Y/N around. Luckily, Dean closed the door and followed me down the hall.

“What, Sam?”

“What are you doing?”

“Sam, I told you-”

“No, Dean. We don’t know what her game is. She could have done a spell or made a deal. And you’re in there feeding her little fantasy.”

My older brother was incredibly defensive. He stood tall and stubborn with his arms crossed, but I could see in his eyes that he wanted to hit me.

“Look,” Maybe changing tactics would get him to see reason. I didn’t want to see him taken advantage of for the sake of some crazy fanatics’ whims. “All I’m saying is let’s look into her and this more. Talk to Cas, maybe Crowley or Rowena. Just…make sure it’s, you know, legit.”

As Dean slightly relaxed, I saw I was finally getting through to him. Y/N was nice to have around, but my paranoia wouldn’t rest until I was confident she wouldn’t cause us harm.

“Fine,” Dean agreed in a huff, his arms dropping to his sides. “Call Cas or whatever, do your research. Meanwhile, I’m going back to her and enjoying what I KNOW is real.”

Neither of us expected to see Y/N standing in the open doorway. I wasn’t sure how much she’d heard, but she looked hurt and determined.

“I’m gonna go to my room. Let you all figure this out.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s okay, Dean. Sam’s right; you can’t be sure, and I want you to be sure.”

She left the hall and went to her room. I was relieved and also incredibly guilty. That could be part of her plan. But as Dean turned back to face me, I again worried he’d throw a punch.

“You get what you wanted,” Dean spat through gritted teeth.

“Dean, I’m just looking out for you. You did the same thing with Becky, and it was for the best.”

He nodded but silently returned to his room, slamming the door loud enough to make me jump. I’d call Cas and Rowena to get to the bottom of this.

-

I stood in the Bunker’s library two days later with Y/N, Dean, Castiel, and Rowena. Except, all eyes were pointed at me with varying expressions.

While Dean was against it, Y/N allowed Cas and Rowena to poke, prod, and pry at her and her mind, searching for anything unusual. But there was nothing. According to Cas and Rowena - who both looked at me with pained sympathy - her love for Dean was pure and true, the real deal and soul-deep.

Dean looked at me with smugness and contempt. I knew he was feeling so damn righteous. But Y/N - she looked defeated and heartbroken. I knew I was an ass, but I couldn’t help feeling something was still off. If she knew all the horrible details of our lives and the many things we’d done - why the hell would she love either of us? Especially my love-em-and-leave-em brother?

“Are we done?” Y/N spoke, standing tall, but I could see the tears in her eyes and the waver in her voice. “Can I go?”

-

Y/N POV

After two whole days of being ripped open and exposed, working to prove myself in ways I never intended, I was more than done. I wanted to be thrilled at meeting the angel and the witch, but the circumstances left me feeling violated in many ways.

“Are we done? Can I go?”

I didn’t wait for a response, turning and heading for my room before the tears fell. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I didn’t even leave the library before a hand grabbed my arm.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean pleaded. I turned to him, and a single tear escaped to stream down my face.

“I just want to go. To forget any of this ever happened.”

“You could do that?” Dean asked, and my heart clenched at the hurt on his face. “Forget it?”

“No, but I have to,” I pulled slowly from his touch, already missing it.

“We can do this; we can make it work,” he insisted, and I shook my head and laughed, though it was without humor.

“THIS wouldn’t have happened if you two hadn’t snuck a truth serum in my drink. Sam questioned me, ripping my secrets from me, doubting me entirely. And you…you did nothing. Sam is the most important person in your life. If he’s not on board, it will never work.”

He didn’t say anything, but my words struck a chord. He didn’t try to stop me when I retreated a second time. While I was grateful, it also hurt. At least nothing more than a kiss happened. It might be easier to recover.

-

Dean POV

Hurt and anger were all I could feel. I understood Y/N’s position somewhat, though it hurt that she’d turn away. I turned to face my brother, all my anger directed at him.

“Are you happy now?” I shouted at him, and he dared to appear surprised. “This is your fault.”

“Dean, I’m just-”

“Looking out for me? Yeah, I know. But why does it feel like you’re jealous?”

“Whoa, I’m not-”

“You’re both daft fools,” Rowena spoke as she busied herself with tidying the items on the table.

“Excuse me?” Sam and I spoke at the same time.

“You two have put that poor lass through hell trying to find the truth. A truth that’s pure love. And while you act like you want it, you’ve done nothing. You let Sam question and doubt her. And she’s right; it’ll never work if Sam doesn’t support it because you two are so grossly intertwined. And you, Samuel,” she turned her fiery attention to Sam, and I felt a little scared for him. “You’re so busy thinking her love is undeserved that you must find a reason it can’t be real.”

“Undeserved?” I looked at my brother; his silent shame told me all I needed. “That’s it, right?”

“Dean, come on. How could someone know everything we’ve done and still love us—love you? I mean, love and relationships aren’t your thing. Don’t you think maybe someone or something is behind this?”

“Sam,” Castiel chimed in to chastise my brother.

I couldn’t look at him any longer, or I would kick his ass. I took off to my room. I wanted to go after Y/N, to beg for forgiveness, but I knew I couldn’t go to her as angry as I was, and she needed space, too. As I realized I may have genuinely lost this before I even got to glimpse it, I felt my lips tingle with the phantom press of her lips to mine. I’d just have to wait to let her come to me. I hoped she still wanted to and that Sam would get his head out of his ass.

-

Sam POV

Several weeks had passed since this whole truth serum mess with Y/N, and I was left feeling like a complete dick.

After Cas and Rowena checked her over, we all went our separate ways. Things in the Bunker seemed to go back to how they were, except no one talked to each other outside of pleasantries or necessity.

My brother would glare at me or make a snide remark to ensure I knew he was pissed. He felt I ruined everything, and maybe he was right. Y/N still cooked and cleaned and helped with research. But she didn’t make eye contact or small talk or linger. She didn’t eat with us or stay in the room for long. It made Dean more bitter every day.

I knew I had let my paranoia and fear get the better of me, and maybe I was a little bit jealous. Out of the two of us, I was the one who was only worth a good time? But as I reflected on her time with us and her interactions with Dean, I realized how much they had in common and enjoyed each other's company—even without romance mixed in.

I had to figure out how to make this right for both of them. I just had to convince Y/N I was sorry and wrong and that she and Dean should try to be together. Then Dean would forgive me, and all would be right again.

-

Dean POV

Sam had tried talking to me and apologized. I was grateful but still pissed. He swore he’d try to make things right, but I asked him not to. She hadn’t made eye contact or spoken any friendly words since Sam - no, since WE - had Cas and Rowena check her.

Sam was right; I didn’t deserve her. And I was heartbroken at her distance, her change in demeanor. I knew she was deeply hurt. As pissed as I was at Sam, I was even more so at myself. I did nothing to stand up for or defend her against the tests. I was just as guilty.

She would never have said anything. I never would have known had we not drugged her. I wanted to be mad about that, too, and was to a degree. Was this all some test, or were Sam and I destined to destroy everyone who crosses our path and dares to care about us?

The point may be to fight. But if I really wanted it, why wasn’t I trying harder?

I overheard the two of them in the kitchen the other night. However, it was mostly Sam, as she still didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, and maybe I should have let them know I was there, but curiosity got the better of me.

Just like with me, he was apologizing to her. But he was also practically BEGGING her to give me another chance. He swore he was on board and supported it - hell, he was full-on dreaming for it to happen now. She thanked him for his apology and said no more.

I didn’t know what to do. But I knew Sam was okay with us, and I wanted to find out what ‘us’ even looked like.

-

Y/N POV

Sam had been giving me whiplash. One day, he was utterly suspicious of me, then he ignored me, and now he’s practically begging me to give Dean a chance—as if I’d been the one rejecting him. I didn’t know what to do.

While I was glad they’d both apologized, I was still hurt. I tried my best to see things from their side: how this might all seem a rational way to go about things or why they were so paranoid. But my pain and embarrassment kept me quiet, just trying to make it day by day while focusing on business as usual. Maybe we’d all move on and put this whole thing behind us.

Until then, I had to do my best to maintain a sense of routine in the Bunker for their sakes. And I wasn’t going to hide away in my room moping either.

This is how I found myself in the library, reading a book as Sam sat on the opposite side with his laptop. I didn’t know if he was researching or looking for a case, but I did know I was pretty irritated that, with many other tables and chairs, he chose to sit across from me.

I tried to focus on the book but scanned the words more than I read them. I was aware of Sam constantly looking at me as if he had something to say before hastily looking back at his screen. I pretended not to notice until I stiffened at the sound of Dean’s approach.

I wanted to run and hide every time he entered the room, afraid he’d catch my longing looks or hear how fast my heart beat when he passed close enough to touch and smell. I could still feel his kiss and the warmth of his hand on my cheek as he held me sweetly. I tried to control it, but now that he knew, I felt so exposed, as if he could sense my every thought. It was a bit unnerving.

I tried to focus on my book as Dean concentrated on his brother, who leaned back in his chair to give him his attention.

“Garth needs backup on a hunt,” Dean announced, and I relaxed, knowing they’d likely leave soon.

“Okay,” Sam stood from his chair, gathering his laptop. “Meet at the car in ten?”

Sam began walking away before Dean’s voice made him stop.

“Uh, actually,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and smirked at his brother. “You and Garth should be able to handle it. Baby needs some maintenance anyway.”

Sam - to his credit and that annoying silent communication of theirs - paused only a moment before seeming to decide.

“Yeah, okay,” he responded quickly and eagerly, making me look at him directly.

He flashed me a smile before continuing his retreat from the room. The quiet, along with being alone with Dean, was sending my anxiety through the roof. He turned to face me, and - Lord, help me - I couldn’t even pretend to care about the book as our eyes met for the first time in what felt like ages.

“So,” he grinned as he slid into the seat Sam had just vacated, refusing to break the locked gaze. “Are you hungry? We could order pizza or go to a place in town or something.”

Okay, so he was waving a white flag. I could get behind that, and I was definitely hungry.

-

Dean POV

“You hungry? We could order pizza or go to a place in town or something?”

She relaxed, but I could see she was still apprehensive. I hated this awkward silence and distance, which hung like a dark cloud over everything. She had confessed her love, both with the serum and without. She spoke about our potential lives, which left me craving. But I hadn’t done much to show my want, to fight for it like she had done.

When Garth called about a case, I saw an opportunity. I would put on my A-game and fight for this, for us.

“Uh, okay. Yeah, sure,” she forced a smile, but I met it with a genuine one.

“Great,” I answered, standing from my seat and gesturing for her to follow. I was only slightly surprised that she did.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want is fine.”

Whatever I want? I grinned and fought back the chuckle as she followed me to Baby in the garage.

“I thought Baby needed work?”

I did laugh then as we settled in the front seat of my car.

“Yeah, I sort of wanted an excuse to be alone with you.”

“Oh.”

She blushed and bashfully looked away. I bit my lip and started the car, driving us into town. If she didn’t care where we went, I knew a place on the edge of town with great burgers, cheap beer, good music, and pool tables. I’d be in my element and could pull my best moves. I was intent on wooing her, and this was usually how I succeeded with others. 

She was not anything like the others at all. She was so much more, from her looks to her body to her mind and heart. As we parked outside the roadhouse, I wondered if this place was the best idea.

Her soft smile was encouraging. As we went inside, my hand hovered over her lower back, guiding her through the crowd to an empty table in the middle of the room. It allowed me to watch everything, and I felt even more on guard than usual with her there.

I watched tentatively as she sat across from me, her eyes scanning the surroundings before landing back on me with a shy smile.

“I hope this is okay. We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, this is great!”

She seemed genuinely happy to be there, and I relaxed. The waitress came and took our orders, and I was pleased to hear Y/N talk more than she had been recently. I guess now was a good time to speak with her about what’s been on my mind.

“Look, Y/N…I want you to know that I am so damn sorry.”

She met my eyes then, and I swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened, that I let happen. We shouldn’t have pried. I’m so sorry you got hurt and exposed and that I didn’t stand up for you.”

She dropped her gaze to the table, tensing up again, and it felt like that beautiful door of opportunity was closing. I needed her to interact with me. Anything was better than the distance and empty pleasantries. At this point, I didn’t care if she flirted or screamed at me.

The waitress returned our order, and I thanked her. Y/N was focused on her food.

“I’m not sorry that I know. In fact, I’m a little pissed you were never gonna tell me.”

I took a bite from my burger and was waiting for her reaction. She stared at me with narrowed eyes before clearing her throat.

“What, I’m just supposed to come out and say it? Even though there was barely a friendship between us?”

She scoffed and returned to eating. But I was frozen, caught up in her choice of words.

“What do you mean ‘was’?”

Had she given up? Has she decided we weren’t worth it? That I wasn’t worth it?

-

Y/N POV

“What do you mean ‘was’?”

The pain in his tone made my heart clench. I didn’t mean to imply we weren’t anymore, but it didn’t feel like we were.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He accepted it, and we ate in comfortable silence. When the waitress returned to clear the table, Dean settled the bill but asked to start a tab for drinks. When a whiskey shot was set before me, I clanked with Dean’s and knocked it back, taking it for the peace offering it was.

“Thank you for apologizing. I can understand why you two felt you needed to do those things. I just wish you would’ve asked.”

“So if Sam asked how you felt about me, without the serum, what would you have said?”

“I would have said I respect and admire you.”

“But not that you love me? Why?”

I had a feeling he’d ask that at some point. I huffed a breath and chewed my lip as I chose my words.

“Because I’m not worthy. If I never say anything, I never have to face your rejection, which would hurt, and it’d hurt you to see me hurt ‘cause you just care that much.”

I guess I didn’t need a serum. The big secret was out, and I told Dean all about our fantasy lives. At least if I kept truthing, I’d know if he truly accepted me.

“But I didn’t reject you, Y/N.”

I met Dean’s eyes, seeing how open he was, letting me see his truth. The intensity I found there made me gasp a little.

“I did hurt you, and seeing that hurt me,” he continued. Reaching across the table, he held one of my hands. “But I didn’t reject you. In fact,” his grip tightened, and a flirty smirk adorned his luscious lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About our future. About that damn kiss.” He laughed, and I nodded my agreement because I felt the same.

“Hey folks, can I get you another round?”

The waitress returned, and I jumped. Dean held my hand, which was firm but gentle, and smiled at her.

“Yes, please. Two shots, two beers. Thanks,” he said, placing a nice tip on her tray, and she left with a smile. It always warmed me how he could be so charming, even without a trace of flirting. His keeping ahold of my hand sent my heart into a frenzy. Maybe I wasn’t reading enough into all of this, which had me chuckling aloud just as our next round arrived.

“What should we drink to?” Dean asked as we held our shots.

I put on my best flirty smirk and clinked my glass with his.

“To second chances?” I suggested, hoping he’d pick up and accept my insinuations.

“I’ll drink to that!”

We threw back our shots and spent moments looking at each other and smiling.

-

Dean POV

It felt almost like making a deal, but one I’d gladly make again and again. I’d never experienced this feeling. It was as if I was embarking on an exciting adventure, eager to learn everything about this person and savor and enjoy every morsel of her being that she was willing to feed me.

I did my best to shut out the dark voice in my mind, telling me it couldn’t last. Either I’ll fuck it up, or she’ll leave, or - God forbid - she dies. That tiny black hole within me was itching to devour all the happiness around me.

But in her presence, it grew quieter and easier to manage. Even before her confessions, I witnessed how kind and caring she was, her compassion providing comfort. She was nurturing, even in the way I imagined a loving mother would be. I don’t remember. But she was like soft candlelight shining amidst the pitch black within my mind.

“How about a game of pool?” I suggested, seeing some open tables. I could show off a little and maybe get a chance to get close to help her line up a shot.

“Okay,” she agreed, taking my hand when I offered it.

I was reluctant to let her go, but I had to set up a game. Basic eight-ball was fine with me and didn’t take much thought.

“I know how to play, but I’m not very good,” she admitted. I bit my lip to contain my excitement about helping her.

“No worries. It's just a fun game. No pressure. But I could show you some things if you want.”

“Eager to bend me over the table, huh?” She laughed, and I was initially shocked. But if she was ready to ‘play,’ then game on, Babygirl.

As we started the game, she was focused, analyzing angles and trying her best. I, however, was focused on her. The way she moved, thought, and bent like a dancer to take her shots, Her whole body was lithe and curvy, stretching like a cat. I noticed, too, that she was ambidextrous. With some practice and pointers, she’d be outstanding. She had a natural skill but wasn’t used to playing.

I went back to admiring her as her plump ass was on display as she bent for a shot and missed. The pout that followed made me want to kiss it away. She was effortlessly sexy, and she had no fucking clue.

“You ready to head back?” I asked after finishing a game. I was ready to be alone with her again, if only to kiss her senseless.

“Sure,” she grinned, placing her hand in mine before I could reach for her.

I grinned like a fool as I paid our tab and led her outside. But we were stopped by a storm, with rain falling thick and fast.

“Race you to the car?” she grinned before dashing into the downpour to the Impala at the back corner of the lot. She was crazy but beautiful.

Grinning again, I ran into the rain to take her hand as we ran to the car together, laughing the whole way.

-

Y/N POV

I dashed out into the rain, feeling giddy and playful. I was high on the night I was having. I had been entirely aware of Dean’s eyes on me - and quite a few other’s eyes - but I tried not to think about it and just be normal.

With my spirits high and being a bit drunk, I felt brave.

“Race you to the car?”

I took off, half expecting him to chastise me. But when he took my hand and ran with me, laughing the whole way, my heart soared. I felt free, alive, and blessed to share it with Dean, the man I loved.

Dean released my hand to get his keys and open the door as we got to the car. I was mesmerized by watching his hand and fingers work, wet from the rain.

“Get in,” he gestured, and I quickly moved, sliding across the bench to the passenger’s side.

“We’re gonna have to wait ‘til it calms down a little. I can’t see much in this.”

I didn’t think about that when running through the downpour. Dean turned on the car only to turn on the heat, and the radio was low on some classic rock station. I couldn’t help but look at him and admire how handsome he was and how that was accentuated by being drenched. It was giving me wicked thoughts, and with my inhibitions lowered, I knew I wasn’t hiding it well.

I shamelessly ogled him as he shed his jacket and overshirt, leaving him in a t-shirt. He tossed the wet clothes in the backseat before looking at me to find me attentively watching his every move. His eyes trailed slowly down my body and back up again. My breathing picked up as my heart raced. He licked his lower lip into his mouth and released it. I think I moaned a little.

“Y/N.”

Dean broke the silence, the rain still pounding hard outside. We leaned towards each other, and his hand cupped my cheek as our lips met. It was just as good as before, though I wondered if I’d imagined it.

His tongue ran gently across my lip, and I felt a flutter between my legs. I opened for him and melted as his tongue met mine. I let him lead, knowing he was used to this, but I hadn’t been with anyone in a while and hadn’t made a habit of hooking up or even taking chances. I was worried I might be out of practice, but I felt encouraged by his sounds and actions.

He pulled back, ending the kiss far too soon for my liking, and I may have whined a little. He chuckled, and I pouted. He leaned in with a groan, sucking my lower lip before kissing me soundly.

I felt like I was in trouble, but in a very sexy way. It was a little confusing. But I was quickly sobering as I realized where this was heading. At least, I hoped.

-

Dean POV

Goddamn, this woman would surely kill me - but what a way to go. I was ready to make her mine here and now, and I was almost sure she’d let me. But she deserved better than that. As sappy as it may be, I wanted our first time together in a bed - specifically MY bed - so I could take my time and make it memorable. Special.

If things go the way I hope, it will be our last first time. I had more than a good feeling about this, and I was ready to do whatever was necessary to have her in my life.

How did I get so damn lucky, so fortunate to have this woman in love with me?

The rain was still coming down, but it had lessened enough that I was confident in getting us home safely. And I NEEDED her home, even if it was only to make out all night.

“Let me get you home,” I whispered, stealing another kiss.

“Well, you’ll have to stop kissing me to do that.”

I kissed her again, and she chuckled as I began to drive. I wanted her closer, tucked into my side, but I knew I needed to focus on the road. The sooner I got her home, the sooner I could touch and kiss her again.

I somehow managed to pull safely into the Bunker’s garage despite Y/N’s gaze devouring me the whole ride. As my cock swelled painfully against my zipper, I prayed to God we were on the same page. I’d be fine if she wasn’t ready. But I was about to burst at just the thought of her.

As soon as I parked the car, I turned to her. She grinned and leaned in to kiss me again. I grabbed at her, holding her close to me as I poured myself into the kiss, letting her taste my desire. 

She straddled my lap with little encouragement, and I wrapped my arms around her to press our bodies together, our hungry kisses unbroken. I grabbed a handful of her hair and gently tugged her head back as my kisses moved along her jaw. When I reached behind her ear, I gave a little kitten lick. Her body jerked and ground against my lap, making me hiss as the zipper pressed against my painfully hard cock.

-

Y/N POV

I could feel how hard he was, his hands as hungry as his mouth. I felt bold knowing there was no rejection waiting, only want. I pulled from the kiss and held his face in my hands.

“Dean, take me to bed?”

I was practically sober now, and so was he. I looked him in the eye, letting him know I meant it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, which surprised me. “I don’t want to rush you or make you feel like I expect anything. If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I can wait. You’re worth waiting for.”

I felt like I would cry, but the patience and understanding he exhibited made me even more sure. I kissed him slow and deep, pulling back to meet his eyes again.

“Take me to bed, Dean.” I realized how that might sound, even if my tone was soft. “Please.”

That seemed to spur him to action. As he devoured my mouth again, I filed it as a note for later. He set me back on the seat and climbed out of the car, offering his hand, which I accepted.

He smoothly pulled me from the car, closed the door, and pressed me against it in what felt like one move. The desire and hunger I saw in his eyes were almost intimidating. He kissed me senseless, his hands on my hips as he pressed his weight into me. He was so strong and capable that it only turned me on more.

“Your room or mine?” I asked, feeling confident enough to be sultry.

“Oh, Baby,” he grinned, unable to go long without kissing me. “I want you in my bed so bad.”

I chuckled and nodded, letting him lead me through the halls to his room.  Once the door shut, he pressed me against it like in the garage. I could hardly believe this was happening, but I was so damn eager for it. His hands pushed my shirt up, and I let him remove it. He made quick work of my bra, and the cool air had my nipples hardening. He dove in with a hum, taking a nipple in his mouth and flicking with his tongue. My knees buckled, and I was grateful for his firm grip on my hips.

He moved to my other nipple and repeated his actions, ripping a loud moan from me as my hips bucked in his hold.

“You’re so sensitive and responsive,” he praised as he removed his t-shirt.

-

Dean POV

She was so beautiful, and her sounds were the sweetest music. She was so desperate and needy, her body reaching into my every touch, even if she wasn’t fully aware.

I felt frenzied, eager to take, feel, and claim. I had to force myself to calm down. I wanted to savor this, to drag it out, and make it as good as possible for both of us.

I reluctantly pulled back, just enough to kick off my shoes and remove the rest of my clothes. She looked at me with pure lust, panting as she mimicked my actions. My hands rushed as she became revealed to me.

As soon as we were both bare, she was pressed against me, seeking another kiss, which I was too happy to provide. Our hands were gentle and cautious as we explored every line, curve, and dip of each other, our lips and tongues dancing together. While I was no doubt aroused - my cock throbbing and pinned between us - her warmth and softness calmed me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

I started walking backward, bringing her with me. I sat on the edge of the bed, intent on pulling her into my lap, wanting her close, but she seemed to have other ideas.

She slowly lowered to her knees, cupping my cheek with one hand, the other wrapping around my cock as she kissed me passionately, more dirty than any other before. She stroked me firm but slow, and when she ran her thumb over the head, I moaned into her mouth.

She pulled back with a grin and gently pushed me back with a hand on my chest until I was propped on my elbows, unwilling to take my eyes off her. She seemed just as intent as me to slow down, drag it out, as she kissed and locked along my lower stomach and hips, nipping lightly here and there, making me jump and groan.

“Not the only one sensitive and responsive,” she teased back at me, nosing along the crease of my thigh, turning her head to nip at the tender inner flesh of my thigh.

“Y/N!”

It was half shock, half desperate arousal. She was driving me insane. She gave in, licking from the base of my cock to the head, tonguing around the rim. My head dropped back, and that was the moment she took me in her warm, wet mouth with a tight suction that already had me embarrassingly close to coming.

She pulled off to tease me some more, and I seized the opportunity, sitting up and swiftly pulling her to straddle my lap. Before she could catch her breath, I turned and lifted her, smoothly laying her back on the bed, her legs wrapped around me, holding me close.

She gasped and laughed, making me chuckle along with her. God, this was a beautiful moment.

“I’ve never been manhandled like that. Surprised me,” she admitted shyly.

I laughed again and kissed her soundly.

“A night of firsts then,” I teased, kissing her deep and rutting my aching cock through her surprisingly damp folds. I was happy to know she was just as aroused as me.

As we drowned in kissing, I trailed my hand down her body and between her legs. I ran a finger over her clit before circling her entrance and sliding inside.

“So damn wet already,” I spoke against her lips, eager to swallow down her moans. “Bet I could just slide right in.”

Fuck, I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t thinking, only feeling as I adjusted my hips, grabbing my cock and sliding inside her. She was so tight and warm, and I could feel how deep I was. I had to stay still and catch my breath, or it’d all be over too soon. She was trembling around me, and I just wanted to make her come over and over.

-

Y/N POV

Dean was inside me, buried deep and nestled against my cervix. It was delicious, and I was hyper-aware of our every connection: our underbelly brushing, his hips against my inner thighs, chest-to-chest, and panted breaths shared from barely grazing mouths.

He pulled back slowly and slid in again, smooth and gentle. I felt like my heart would explode or I might burst into tears. He increased his speed only a little, kissing along my neck and chest. I marveled at feeling him, so long and thick and impossibly hard, fucking into me gently but with purpose.

Then, my rational mind began to speak up, reminding me he was bare inside me. I clenched and moaned, fighting back my breeding kink.

“Dean, wait,” I pushed gently at his shoulders, and he went still.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I promised, pecking his lips to reassure him. “But we need a condom. I’m not on birth control.”

He seemed to pause and think before nodding and slowly pulling out. As he moved from the bed to retrieve a condom, I wondered if I’d upset him. He sheathed himself and crawled back on the bed, and I opened my legs to welcome him. But he didn’t go for it right away.

His hand slid along my thigh, up my side, and cupped my cheek, his eyes searching mine.

“What had you clenching and moaning so hard?”

I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I also knew he was intelligent and experienced and had probably figured it out.

“My…my breeding kink.”

I mumbled the words in embarrassment but felt compelled to be honest. His pupils dilated, and he captured my lips hungrily as he slid within me again, with no hesitation and no resistance. He was so thick I could still feel every bit of him through the condom, his girth stretching me deliciously, making me wriggle my hips impatiently.

-

Dean POV

Fuck, hearing her say the words ‘breeding kink’ might have been the sexiest thing I ever heard. That’s something I’d be chewing on for a while.

I slid back inside her, and she let a sigh. I felt relief at being connected again, too. I could still feel her walls squeezing around me, but I wished I could feel her bare again. The primal side of me awakened, wanting to make her mine and breed her full.

Instead, I focused on her face and her reactions as I moved. I kept our bodies close, nearly all of us touching, which was way more intimate than I was used to. It only added to the many moments that made this an extraordinary connection. I had to remind myself it was only the start, the first time of what I hoped to be countless others.

As I picked up my pace, I could tell she was getting close. My thumb found her clit, and I rubbed tight circles in time with my thrusts. Her breathing sped up, and I could tell she was holding back.

“Wanna feel you come,” I told her, leaning in to kiss her ear and whispering as I kept moving within her. “Imagine me bare inside you, ready to fuck you full.”

I felt her clench hard before she moaned out her release, her hands digging into my ass as she held me deep. I did my best to grind against her and ride out her high. She was fucking gorgeous, and I was nowhere near done with her.

In another practiced move, I rolled to my back, taking her with me, my cock never leaving her tight and drenched pussy. Still coming down from her high, she kissed me sloppy before sitting up straight. My cock slid deeper, and we moaned together as I held her hips and encouraged her to ride me.

-

Y/N POV

My head was light, my body tingling from the incredible orgasm. I usually stopped at one, but the feel of Dean was too good to give up. He wanted more from me, and I wanted to give it.

I sat up straight, my hands on his abs for leverage. He was so deep it was almost too much. When I began to move my hips, I was intent on giving as good as I got. But it was so incredible it quickly became about me: what I wanted to feel and how. Luckily, he was enjoying it just fine.

I was about to lean down and kiss him, but he sat up, wrapping his arms around me. I held his gaze as I rode him, slowly and intentionally clenching my walls to massage his shaft.

He snarled and kissed me hard, his thumb rubbing my clit again. I was surprised how quickly my second orgasm was creeping up on me, but I was hungry for it, and so was he.

“Dean!”

I couldn’t help but shout for him - at him - I wasn’t sure. A second later, I was coming, riding him hard through my high as he focused his attention on my breasts.

God, I was drained and sweaty, barely able to catch my breath, my body spasaming and pussy throbbing. I didn’t even notice he’d sat forward, laying me back on the bed, still hard and inside me as he lavished my breasts and nipples with teeth and tongue.

I knew he hadn’t come yet and was starting to get concerned. Maybe I couldn’t keep up with him? Maybe it wasn’t as good for him? I thought it was the best I’d ever had, but he was more experienced. But I couldn’t get my brain to form words.

I ran my hands through his hair and over his back, and he hummed at the touch. I wiggled my hips, reminding us both that he hadn’t come yet and was hard as a rock.

“Dean?” I urged him from my chest and met his eyes. “Wanna feel you come.”

I wiggled my hips again as much as I could in this position: my ass on his lap and back lightly bowed.

“M’close,” he spoke against my lips. “How do you want it?”

God, that was so sexy. But I was determined to make this good for him, too.

“Whatever you want. Anything!”

-

Dean POV

She felt so goddamn good. I wasn’t sure how I’d been able to hold back coming all this time. I wanted to make her feel good, but I also wanted to impress and show her that I could care for her. More importantly, I wanted to show her that I wanted her.

As she floated down from her high, I took the time to worship her, licking the sweat from her skin and riling her up for more.

“Dean?”

Her soft voice calling my name so sweetly had me pausing to look at her.

“Wanna feel you come.”

My cock twitched, more than ready, but I fought to hold back, desperate to please.

“M’close,” I admitted, pecking her lips. “How do you want it?”

She moaned, her legs widening, making me sink a little deeper.

“Whatever you want. Anything!”

“So fucking perfect.”

I couldn’t help but praise her and was pleased when she swooned. I grinned and kissed her again, the feel of it already becoming second nature. I ran my hands up her arms and pulled her hands above her head, urging her to grab onto the edge of the mattress.

We smiled warmly at each other as I sat back on my heels, draping her legs over my arms as I gripped her hips. Her back was arched, legs wide.

I pulled back and swiftly thrust back inside, starting a brutal pace that rocked her body and had her screaming. She gripped the bed tight as I let go, fucking her like I wanted to. I was sure it was equal parts pain and pleasure, but she took every inch of me again and again.

She was chanting my name over and over, her pussy spasming wildly around my cock. I was going to come any second, but I needed to feel her one more time. To have her pull me over the edge with her.

I held her tight, sure there’d be bruises I’d kiss later, giving her all I had. She screamed even louder before her pussy fluttered and gushed all over me.

I lost it, falling forward and groaning as I came hard, the condom swelling with my seed. I huffed hard, my head falling into the crook of her neck. I couldn’t have imagined our first time together being any better than what we shared.

I tried to make myself move, worried I was crushing her. But she wrapped her arms around me and shook her head.

“No. Don’t move. Please.”

I laughed and dropped my head back to her neck. I was good with that.

-

Y/N POV

Fuck, I couldn’t move. Dean tried, but my oversensitive body couldn’t handle it, so I begged him to stay still. He seemed content to remain there for the time being.

“That was hands down the best sex I’ve ever had.” I chuckled at my honesty and still quite cum-drunk.

“Mmm,” he hummed, kissing my neck and pulling out. “You squirted.”

“I did?!” I had to lift my head and look, a big, wet mess all over us, the sheets beneath me wet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Fuck, don’t apologize.” He tossed the condom and grabbed a towel to clean us up. I sighed and lay there, letting him. “It was so fucking hot, Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tossing the towel and moving us under the blankets. I went willingly, completely spent.

“Sleep?” I asked, desperately needing to recover.

“Sleep,” he agreed, pecking my lips before moving to spoon me, his arms wrapped around me securely.

-

When I woke later, I smelled coffee and gentle kisses on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and propped on my elbows, having shifted to my stomach at some point.

Dean was right there beside me, his smile warm. My heart melted all over again.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased with a chuckle. He shifted to sit back against the headboard, sipping at a mug.

“Hey.”

I forced myself to sit up, adjusting the blankets to cover myself as I leaned next to him, noticing he was shirtless, but the bedding covered his lap.

He handed me the mug, and I smiled bashfully as I drank the warm and delicious coffee inside. I returned it, and he set it on the nightstand, turning his attention back on me.

He grinned, leaning in and cupping my cheek as he kissed me sweetly. His hand trailed down my neck to my chest before thumbing at my nipple. The kiss turned heated in an instant as he made his intentions known.

He pulled back the covers, and I let him, though I whined that he pulled his lips away, too. He was just as naked as me and half-hard. But as his shoulders settled between my thighs, my mind went blank, simply eager for what he was about to do.

-

Dean POV

When I woke, I had to wipe drool from my chin after the incredible dream I had of feasting on Y/N’s sweet cunt. I sat up and wiped the sleep from my face before noticing Y/N was asleep beside me.

She was on her stomach, her hair a wild mess, her mouth hung open as she breathed heavy and deep. Remembering what happened earlier, a grin spread on my face as I realized it wasn’t all part of my dreams. I leaned down and gently kissed her shoulder, but she didn’t move.

I decided to rush to the bathroom and grab some coffee, trying to hurry because I wanted to be there when she woke up. Ideally, I could wake her sweetly, and then maybe she’d let me eat her out because that part was a dream, and I was aiming to rectify that for both of us.

I climbed back in bed, not having bothered with clothes since we were alone in the Bunker, at least for now. I set the cup aside and kissed her shoulder and back again. Featherlight and worshipful, I brought her to wakefulness.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” I greeted as her eyes opened.

I sat back, sipping coffee. She sat up next to me with a soft greeting and accepted the mug when offered. She had moved the blankets to keep herself covered, but I could see over her neck and chest where I’d marked her good. I hadn’t meant to; I didn’t even realize I was doing it. But seeing them in different shades and sizes only turned me on.

She returned the cup to me, and I mindlessly put it on the nightstand. I kissed her, eager to show how happy I was, to reinforce that it was real and reciprocated.

Pulling the covers back to expose us, I thumbed at her nipples, finding them already hard. I ignored the throbbing of my cock, and I lowered myself between her thighs. She was already a little wet, and I was desperate to have her slick coat my tongue. I wasted no time as I dove in, making out with her pussy, tasting every bit of her, mapping and testing her creases and folds.

Her hands ran through my hair, and her thighs clamped around my head. Her moans and pleas had me impossibly hard. I rutted against the bed as I slid two fingers inside her, sucking her clit hard between my lips. Her voice hitched, and her body tensed, so I doubled my efforts. She shattered, and I removed my fingers to delve my tongue deep inside, gulping down her release and savoring her tangy flavor.

I came onto the sheets with a muffled grunt as I wrung every ounce of her orgasm from her. When she relaxed with a sigh, I kissed up her body, elated and aroused as she kissed me deep and sucked at my tongue.

I pulled back to look at her - at this incredible woman who loved me and was willing to give herself to me. She ran her hand from my brow to my jaw, her eyes following the touch, a soft smile on her lips as she met my eyes. It felt incredibly intimate, and I laid my head on her chest, my body pressing into her. I was hiding from the onslaught of emotions she was creating inside me.

Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and one hand moved to run her nails over my scalp softly. I sighed and relaxed, taking the much-needed comfort she offered.

This was the part I always missed out on. It's always awkward mornings or quick goodbyes. With Y/N, I could stay, linger, and accept the peace and comfort I was always denied. I may have dozed off lying on her, but she never moved, her hands and nails soothing and relaxing me. 

God, I hoped it would always be like this. To be safe and loved in someone’s arms.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

DEAN WINCHESTER:

@slamminmine

@deandreamernp

@awkward-and-indecisive

@akshi8278

@mimaria420

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: this fic will contain DARK CONTENT. MINORS DNI. AGELESS BLOGS DNI. reader and touya are childhood friends, kidnapping, reader does not consent to what touya’s doing, possessive/obsessive behavior, one-sided pain kink, no sex, no aftercare, hurt/no comfort,  this takes place after dabi broadcasts that he’s a todoroki, touya burns reader in multiple places, touya burns your clothes off, this is seriously fucked up content, this is not intended to be sexy or hot or anything like that, it’s literally just fully DARK CONTENT GENRE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT SUMMARY: touya intends to make you his—permanently. WORD COUNT: 1.4K 🦊’s A/N: whoa….. god help us all. this is my first seriously dark fic here and there will be plenty more to cum 💦

     “now—don’t be like that, doll,” dabi scolds you as he finishes tying off the rope at your ankles. currently, you were laying face down against the mattress, limbs pulled apart spread eagle style, blindfolded and terrified.

     when you were on your way home earlier tonight, you weren’t exactly expecting to be kidnapped in broad daylight. maybe it was your fault for taking that shortcut through that shadyass alley…. goddammit. now, you had no one to blame but your own dumb ass.

     what you weren’t aware of, however, was the fact that touya had been stalking you for weeks now—waiting for the perfect time to snatch you up. you see, he’d always had a bit of a crush on you since you were always there for him when you were children, someone whom he actively sought solace in. so, now that you were both adults and his feelings had time to simmer and intensify, he found himself thinking about you obsessively—he thought of you as something he just had to have; something akin to a doll he had to mark as his. and that’s exactly what he’d do.

     “please…. let me go!” you cry, tears dampening the cloth obstructing your vision. “i— i have — have to get home! i have people waiting for me!” you lie, wiggling around on the bed.

     he had taken you to some abandoned home—the family already dead and gone weeks ago, as touya had been planning this exact scenario for months now. and he finally has you exactly where he’s dreamt you’d be: struggling beneath him as he marks you as his permanently. 

     “that’s a lie and we both know that, sweets,” he spits out. “‘ve been watchin’ you for a while now, y’know…” suddenly his lips are right next to your ear, hot breath fanning over the shell of it as a chill runs down your spine. 

     “but, i’ll tell ya what: if y’can guess who i am, i’ll let you go free. sound good?” he proposes, meaning his words—he knows you’ll come crawling back to him once he’s through with you. you wouldn’t have any other choice, really!

     that being said, he activates his quirk on his hand and sets flame to the button down shirt you wore, and as a result, your bra as well, making you cry out painfully as the overwhelming heat consumes your upper body for a few long moments. …and then just like that, it’s gone and you’re left in just the stupid skirt you’d decided to wear today and your panties.

     now, with his quirk active on just his index finger, he brings it down to your naked lower back where he begins to spell out his name—his real name. 

     he did it tortuously slowly, though. taking his sweet time to make sure you could feel the stroke of each letter so that there would be no mistaking who he was.

     T…

     it’s all you can do to scream and bite down on the pillow by your head. the heat was beyond blistering, and you think you might pass out as he agonizingly traces the letters of his name.

     O…

     “jesus christ, owow–OW—OW–! fuck!” you scream-sob, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks from the searing pain as he mockingly praises you for being so brave. 

     U…

     suddenly, the realization of who he might be clicks amidst the pain, and it’s all you can do to cry; “t–touya!? b–but why?” 

     he doesn’t stop writing as he grins so widely, he pops a couple staples—the ones closest to his mouth—and continues spelling out his name before deciding to answer you.

     Y… A…

     perfect….. his handwriting wasn’t exactly the best, but it was undoubtedly his. just like you were.

     the last you’d seen him was on the news when he dropped the metaphorical bomb that was him being the eldest todoroki sibling. and before that? the night he supposedly “died.” so, not only was finding out he’s been alive this whole time a slap in the face, but now he has the audacity to kidnap and brand you? like you’re a piece of property!?

     “why?” he rasps out. “it’s pretty simple, really. …because you’re the only one who understands me—”

      “n–no! t– touya, this isn’t—” isn’t what? this isn’t him? this isn’t right? the touya you were once familiar with perished long ago and so had his morals.

     his hand comes down to strike against your ass with an awful, burning force, and you swear there’s an immediate handprint that forms. 

     your back arches instinctively, forcing your stomach firmly against the mattress, in attempt to escape his blazing touch, but touya doesn’t give you time to recover before he’s bringing the same hand down again, with just as much force and firepower as before, and you yelp loudly as you squirm against your restraints.

     “pl– please–! why me?”

     “i just told you—don’t tell me your memory’s that bad?” he quirks a brow up at 

      it’s true that you’d had a crush on the man now known as dabi back in your youth, but that crush died when touya did, forcing you to mourn both him and the feelings you harbored towards him. and now he comes back from the dead like nothing? did he even try to seek you out in all this time? 

     he had, actually, at multiple points; little “check ins”of sorts, if you will. observing from a distance, too scared to reach out.

     “n–no! ‘s’not! i just—! ow! fuck! touya, please!” 

     “you what?” he snaps, spanking your other asscheek this time.

     “fuck! ow–! touya, please! please!”

     his hand comes down again, harder and hotter than before and you bite your tongue so hard it starts to bleed, filling your mouth with an almost sickening coppery taste. rather than swallow it, you spit it out onto the bed, as far away from your face as you can manage, and touya laughs at the pathetic sight. 

     “you poor thing,” he coos mockingly. “maybe i should’ve given you something to bite down on—...oh well, it’s too late now,” he laughs cruelly as another idea comes to mind. next, he thinks he’ll carve the characters of his name into your back, rather than just the romaji writing, and right between your shoulder blades at that. 

     “t–tou—touya, i—” you swallow thickly, unable to think of anything but the pain, or if you’d ever get to go home again after this. part of you almost wishes he would just kill you so you wouldn’t have to live with this mark of him for the remainder of your life.  

     “you—” he cuts you off, “are not going to like what happens next.” there’s an inflection of sorts in his voice—he sounds… like he found humor in his own words, like whatever was about to happen next would be funny. 

     he sets flame to his pointer finger again and brings the searing digit down against your flesh, and the smell that arises as he carefully takes his time with each stroke of the characters needed to spell his name—even going as far as to use his former surname todoroki in the spelling, just to make it that much more agonizing for you.

     轟。。。

     you wail and bite onto the pillow, staining it with your blood, as touya burns your flesh for his own entertainment.

     燈。。。

     矢。。。

     there. now he could be done with you until you inevitably decided to seek him out—too embarrassed and full of shame to continue living amongst normal citizens; after all, being branded by a well-known villain and then being set free into society like it never even happened is sure to take a toll on one’s mind. 

     what are you gonna do? call the police? tell a pro? show them your new scars as evidence? the idea is laughable. 

     “there—we’re all done,” he says, leaning over your trembling form to burn the ropes binding your trembling form to the bed, quickly followed by the ones tied around your ankles. “i’m a man of my word, so you’re free to go,” he says with a deviant, slightly crooked smirk. 

     rather than immediately booking it, you curl up tightly into a ball as your body’s wracked with heavy, heaving sobs, processing the physical and mental pain as touya just chuckles at your pathetic self, getting up from the bed and putting his hands in his pockets.

     “well, see ya around,” he says, walking off as if he didn’t have a care in the world, leaving you to cope with your situation and what happens next.

return to KINKTOBER | LEAGUE OF VILLAINS M.LIST

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[reiderwriter]

can i request a fic of pining spencer reid and bau!reader who are brushing up on some hand to hand combat and reader is really invested on winning finally pins spencer down and reader is straddling spencer and they are both like 😳😳

the rest of the bau and other fbi agents are on the side making varies bets about who wins maybe too? (eg that miss congeniality scene)

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg thank you so much for this one specifically - I loved this idea. I had to make Spencer competitive too, because 😊 I wanted to.

Word count: 1.8k words

Warnings: none! Just fluff, however if anyone wanted to send a follow up request wanting a part two where there is some smut I'd be 100% okay with that... Just if you wanted to.

Part two

When Morgan told you that, after an unfortunate shoulder injury you received on the job, you’d have to take another training course to prove that you were up to being back in the field, you almost resigned on the spot. Passing the first time hadn’t been the easiest feat for you, and while you were confident in your skills in the field, you knew that you were, to put it kindly, athletically challenged. 

“There’s no way to get out of it? No exceptions they can make to allow me into the field?” You asked, desperate to avoid Morgan putting you through the ringer. 

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, but they’re worried about your ability to perform under pressure, so I gotta push you today, okay? You’re not alone, at least.” 

“I’m not?” you gave the man a questioning look as you followed him to the changing rooms reluctantly. 

“Nah, they pulled up Reid and Garcia as well, you’ll all be doing the work together today.” 

“What that’s ridiculous! Penelope isn’t even in the field and Reid has never passed one of these things.” You throw your bag down on a bench, and look ahead of you into the equipment room, and sure enough, there they are, looks of equal dissatisfaction spread across their faces. 

“You’re preaching to the choir here, sweet cheeks. You’re in good hands though, I’m not going to push you too hard today.” Somehow you didn’t believe that. 

–X–

An hour later you were flat on your back, panting harder than you had in months, dripping with sweat and feeling an ache in your bones that you hadn’t felt ever. Next to you on the ground, you could hear your fellow torturee’s moaning in pain, presumably doing their best to stay conscious. 

“You know, chocolate thunder, I love you, I really do, but you make it very, very hard sometimes,” Penelope squeaked out as the other man chuckled from above you. “God I’m not even asthmatic but I think I need an inhaler.” 

You chuckled at that and pushed yourself up to a seated position. 

“I think I am asthmatic.” Reid said form his position on your other side. You stole a glance at him quickly before blushing and looking away. You didn’t have a crush on him, or at least that was what you were telling yourself, but you did have a keen appreciation for how he looked in his button down shirts and FBI vests. His hair was shorter now than when you first met, and the longer parts stuck to his face with sweat. You were lucky that the strength had been all but zapped from your body because given the chance, you’d be pushing his hair out of his face for him and get lost in his eyes. 

“Come on, guys. You finished cardio, you finished weights, all you got left is some simple self defense drills. Think you can handle that?” Morgan laughed from above you. 

“No! I haven’t been able to handle any of this, what makes you think I can do more?” Reid moaned out on the floor next to you. You stood up, reluctantly, holding out a hand out to the man and helping to pull him to his feet. 

You underestimate the help he needed to get up, though and he has to catch you in his arms as soon as he’s up, as you stumble into him, legs too weak. You blush as the two of you stay uncomfortably close for a few seconds, only pulling apart when Morgan lets out a sharp cough. You jump back from each other then, and pray to god that no one else in the room saw the puppy dog eyes you were unintentionally shooting up at him. 

“Okay, so there’s three of you, so I’ll join in for these sparring drills. Any volunteers?” 

“To tangle my limbs with yours all hot and sweaty on the floor? Sweetie, I thought you’d never ask.” You hadn’t seen Penelope move so fast all day, though you knew she was only half joking. 

“Okay, so Y/L/N, Reid, you head over to that mat over there. You’re going to start a hand-to-hand combat simulation, whoever pins the other down first wins. We’ll do best of three, okay?” 

Reluctantly, you made your way to the mat he indicated to, knowing that you weren’t going to have as much fun as Penelope any time soon. 

“You’re going to start in a common self-defense scenario. Reid, you’re going to be the assailant, you’re going to come up on Y/L/N from behind, okay?” You nodded at Morgan’s words and turned yourself away from Reid, feeling his presence at your back already. 

“Is this really necessary?” He questioned from behind you, and you could practically feel Morgan’s answering look on your back. Finally, he rested a light hand on your shoulder, and your session started. 

You grabbed the hand on your shoulder and twisted it, and yourself, behind his back, gaining the upper hand quickly. 

“Y/N, come on. Take it easy, I’m exhausted. Just let me pin you and we can call it a day.” Reid said from in front of you and your ears burnt at his suggestion. 

“Wait, why would I let you pin me? I have the upper hand right now.” He huffed out a breath and twisted his body underneath your arm, catching you off-guard as he swept your legs from underneath you. Before you could fall all the way down, though, he grabbed you around your waist and held you in what you assumed looked like a ballroom dancing dip. 

“You were saying?” You desperately wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off of his lips. “Actually, I have a few years more experience in the field than you, and I was probably beaten up a lot more in high school, so I wouldn’t be too upset about losing to me, okay?” 

You returned his smile sarcastically for a second, before lifting and swinging the heel of your foot into his knee, forcing him to hit the mat as you scrambled out of his grip and repositioned yourself behind him, pulling him arm behind his back a second time in an attempt to subdue him. 

“If you have so much experience getting your ass kicked, Spence, why don’t you just let me do it?” You enjoyed feeding his words back to him as he moaned out a little. 

“Because something tells me you’d enjoy it a little too much.” He somehow slips from your grip again, swiping your legs out from underneath you and climbing over you. The two of you struggle for a few seconds on the floor, but he has your legs pinned with his own, and he forces your hands above your head. Your heads are even with one another, and you’re both breathing heavily now. 

You decide to take another approach to get out of his hold this time. Rolling your hips up into his slightly, you let your eyes rake over his body above you. 

“You sure you’re not enjoying this just as much, Reid?” you shoot him an innocent enough smile, but you can see the flush staining his skin, and he loosens his hold on you just enough to allow you to wrap your legs around his waist and use your bosy weight as leverage to flip your positions. 

Now he’s on his back below you and you sit up in triumph, straddling his lap. His arms fight to get yours pinned to your side but you give back just as much as he is, and you can feel the crowd forming around you. He decides to fight dirty as well. 

“Thought you’d enjoy being under me more than you’d like being on top. I was being a gentleman,” he huffs out and manages to flip you over once more, pushing up and wrapping his legs up over your knees and forcing you onto your back. Your legs are now spread wide for him, his crotch pushed against yours, his arms gripping yours and pushing them firmly into the mat. You struggle a few more times but you know this is it. He’s got you. 

“What? Not even going to let my hands go to let me tap out?” you huff out, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. He pins both of your hands with one of his and gently tucks the hair behind your ear for you as you burn up under his touch, suddenly at a loss for words. 

“What, and let you try to tackle me again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you go.” 

“Y/L/N, Reid, if you’re finished over there, you can grab a drink and start over. I did say this was going to be best of three.” Both of you suddenly snap your eyes up to Morgan, who has one raised eyebrow pointed at you. You realise that you’ve also drawn the attention of the other gym-goers and scramble away from each other to the sound of chuckles and wolf whistles. 

“Shit,” you run a hand through your hair and get in position to go again, this time swapping with Reid so you take the position of the unsub. 

From a distance, you don’t realise that Penelope and Morgan have completely given up on their own drills. 

“Twenty bucks says Reid gives in and kisses her first,” she whispers to her companion. 

“The kid? No way, he’s being too cocky for that. I reckon Y/N will do it to try and distract him first.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Garcia says, and they settle back into watching the two of you, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re both enjoying sparring a little bit more than you normally would be. 

“When do you think I should tell them that they never needed to do this training session in the first place?” 

“Derek Morgan, if you are admitting right now that you made me walk through hell and back just so you could force these two beautiful idiots whom I love to recognise their feelings for each other then I am going to murder you and then bring you back to life so I can kiss you for being so smart.” 

“So I shouldn’t tell them?” 

“Take it to the grave, baby.” 

They turned their attention back to you, suddenly way more invested in how this was going to turn out.