#an expression of frustration and discomfort

[gf2bellamy]

heartbeat — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: isaac can hear your racing heartbeat content warnings: stiles eating alot , bickering between stiles and you , shy / awkward reader

You sat in the passenger seat of Stiles' old, beaten-up Jeep, the leather cracking beneath you as the vehicle rattled over the uneven pavement. The rhythmic hum of the engine might have lulled you into a daydream if not for Stiles' relentless chatter filling the small space. 

He was going on about the kanima, listing off every fact he’d dug up in his obsessive research. His hands gestured animatedly as he spoke, barely keeping one on the wheel.

“—and honestly, I can't believe Scott. Inviting Lahey? He couldn’t have picked anyone more annoying than—” 

“What?” you blurted, snapping out of your trance. Your head jerked toward him, heart suddenly racing. 

“What?” Stiles glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance, before returning his focus to the road. 

“Why would he do that?” you stammered, your stomach twisting into knots. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically before returning one to the steering wheel. “I mean, Isaac Lahey? Mr. Broody-McBrooderson with his creepy silent stares and his, ‘Oh, I’m so mysterious and tragic’ routine? Please. We don’t need that guy sulking in the corner while we’re trying to figure out how not to get murdered by a lizard monster.” 

You barely heard him. The name Isaac was bouncing around in your head, louder than the Jeep’s sputtering engine. 

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. Of all the people Scott could’ve invited, why him? You’d had a hopeless crush on Isaac Lahey for what felt like forever, and it had only gotten worse since he’d been bitten.

He’d always been cute in that quiet, shy way, but now? Now he looked like he belonged on the cover of some edgy teen magazine with his sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and that perpetual messy-haired, tortured-soul thing he had going on. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Stiles asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

“Huh?” Your head snapped toward him again, and he gave you a look like you’d just grown a second head. 

“You’re spacing out. What’s the deal?” Stiles squinted at you, his brows knitting together suspiciously. 

“Nothing! No deal! Just, uh… processing,” you said, stumbling over your words and crossing your arms defensively. 

“Processing? Processing what?” he pressed, his tone sharp with curiosity. 

“Nothing!” you repeated, maybe a little too loudly. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes but thankfully returned his focus to the road, muttering under his breath. “Weird. You’re being weird.” 

But before you could respond, the Jeep turned onto Scott’s street, the familiar sight of his house coming into view. 

As Stiles pulled into the driveway, your stomach churned with nervous anticipation.

You climbed out of the Jeep, the gravel crunching beneath your boots as you followed Stiles up the driveway. His pace was brisk, determined—typical Stiles.

Stiles reached the door and, with his usual enthusiasm, began banging on it like it was some kind of emergency. "Stiles, stop," you hissed under your breath, your voice tight with nerves. 

"What?" He turned to you, brows furrowed, completely unfazed by your discomfort. He shrugged his shoulders and knocked again, louder this time. 

Before you could protest any further, the door swung open with a groan, and Scott stood there, eyes wide with surprise.

“Will you stop?” Scott groaned, stepping aside to let you both in. He didn’t look angry, just… used to Stiles' antics. “I told you to stop,” you muttered under your breath as you passed Scott. 

Stiles gave you an exaggerated, sheepish grin, as he passed you, heading straight toward the kitchen. 

Scott followed him immediately, his voice rising in frustration. “Stiles, we’re supposed to start planning, not—ugh, you’re already eating!” 

You stood there for a moment, watching them head toward the kitchen, your fingers absently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. The sight of them bickering made you smile slightly—this was familiar, the way they always were.

But then your eyes drifted across the room, and your stomach lurched when you saw Derek standing by the map on the table, his sharp eyes scanning over it without sparing anyone a glance. 

You wandered toward the couch, pulling a random book from the stack on the coffee table and sitting down, grateful for the distraction. You'd been friends with Scott and Stiles for years now, so it was easy to slip into the comfort of Scott’s living room.

As you flipped the book open, you heard footsteps approaching and glanced up to see Stiles plopping down beside you, a crinkling chip bag in his lap. He leaned over your shoulder, his usual curiosity piqued as he tried to see what you were reading. 

"Seriously, do you need to know what I’m reading right now?" you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it wasn’t like Stiles cared. His head was already too close, eyes peering at the page with exaggerated interest. 

“You're reading this?” Stiles made a face, tapping the cover with a chip. “I thought you were all about the paranormal stuff, not romance novels. What, are you a romantic now?” 

As Stiles leaned closer, still teasing you about the book in your hands, you decided you’d had enough. With a mischievous grin, you reached into the chip bag on his lap and grabbed a handful. 

“Hey! Stop that!” Stiles exclaimed, pulling the bag away and holding it just out of your reach. 

“These are mine!” he grumbled, glaring at you like you’d committed some sort of heinous crime. 

You smirked, unfazed. “If you didn’t want to share, you shouldn’t have brought them in here.” You made another grab, earning a dramatic gasp from him as he twisted away. 

“Guys, can we start now?” 

Scott’s voice cut through the room, and you froze mid-snatch, your hand awkwardly hovering over the chip bag. You glanced up to see Scott standing in front of you, arms crossed, wearing his usual exasperated expression. But what really caught your attention was the figure standing beside him. 

Isaac. 

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly dropped back into your seat, trying to act nonchalant as you let Stiles deal with Scott’s frustration. 

“Finally,” Stiles muttered, getting up from the couch with his precious chips in hand. “Stop stealing my food,” he huffed before shuffling over to the table where Derek stood waiting, a map spread out before him. 

Scott followed Stiles to join Derek, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. Isaac was still standing there, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as his eyes flicked toward you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low but warm. 

You forced yourself to meet his gaze for a fraction of a second before quickly looking away, your nerves making it impossible to hold eye contact. “Hi,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You stood up from the couch, and made your way over to where Stiles was loudly explaining some wild theory about the Kanima, grateful for the distraction.

You felt Isaac approach. He moved to stand beside you, his tall frame close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. 

Your heart was racing, and that was a huge problem. You were in a room with three werewolves, all of whom could undoubtedly hear it. You swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself as Scott and Stiles debated over a detail on the map. 

Then, as if the universe had it out for you, Isaac leaned in. His shoulder brushed against yours, the light touch sending a jolt through your body. He pointed at something on the map, his voice smooth as he added to the discussion. 

Your breath caught in your throat. There was no way they didn’t hear it now—your heart hammering against your ribcage like a drum. You didn’t dare glance at Isaac, afraid of what you might see in his expression.

Instead, your eyes flicked across the room, landing on Derek, who was watching you. 

His sharp gaze met yours, and his brow lifted ever so slightly. It was subtle, but the meaning was clear. We can hear you. 

You felt your cheeks flush a deep red, and you quickly looked away, your embarrassment nearly overwhelming. Great. Just great. Now Derek knew, and by extension, probably everyone else. 

Meanwhile, Isaac didn’t seem to notice—or at least, he didn’t let on. He stayed where he was, his shoulder brushing against yours once again as he adjusted his stance.

It was maddening. You could barely focus on what Scott was saying because all you could think about was Isaac standing so close, his presence practically enveloping you. 

The sound of keys jingling at the front door made the entire room freeze. The faint click of the lock turning was followed by the door swinging open, revealing Melissa McCall. 

The group turned as one, Stiles mid-crunch with a mouthful of chips, Scott suddenly standing bolt upright and awkwardly shifting to block the map on the table. 

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. He reached behind him, hurriedly folding the edges of the map in a poor attempt to hide it. “I thought you were working!” 

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her eyes scanning the room full of teenagers and one brooding adult - werewolf. “I got off early,” she said, her tone skeptical as she stared down her son. “What’s going on here?” 

Stiles, in true Stiles fashion, tried to fill the silence with something that, in his mind, probably sounded reasonable. Instead, he mumbled through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying everywhere. “Uh, homework club?” 

You slapped his arm before he could make it worse, glaring at him. “Why would you say that?” you whispered harshly, though the exasperation in your tone was loud enough to draw attention. 

Isaac, who had been standing close enough to overhear, let out a quiet chuckle. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your gaze fixed on Stiles.

“Homework club?” Melissa repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief as she crossed her arms. 

Scott, still scrambling for an explanation, stepped in to intercept. “We’re, uh… just hanging out! You know, normal hanging out.” His smile was painfully forced, and you couldn’t help but cringe internally at how obvious it was. 

Melissa’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Scott to the rest of the group. Her gaze lingered on Derek, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, leaning against the wall with his usual brooding expression. 

Derek glanced at Melissa briefly before muttering under his breath, “I think we’ve got it figured out.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed away from the wall and strode toward the door, brushing past both Melissa and Scott like they weren’t even there. 

Melissa frowned, watching him leave. “Figured what out?” she asked, her tone sharp with suspicion. 

Scott threw up his hands, laughing nervously. “Oh, you know… just… things.” 

You winced. Real smooth, Scott. 

Melissa gave her son a long, pointed look before sighing. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but as long as it doesn’t destroy my house or involve the Sheriff showing up, I don’t want to know.” 

Stiles, having recovered from your earlier slap, grinned through another mouthful of chips. “See? She gets it.” 

“Stiles!” you hissed, your face heating with embarrassment as Melissa’s gaze turned to him. 

Scott, clearly desperate to shift the focus, quickly ushered his mom toward the stairs. “Thanks, Mom! Love you! You should get some rest!” 

Melissa paused, narrowing her eyes one last time before reluctantly heading up the stairs. “You all better clean up before you leave!” 

The room fell into an awkward silence as her footsteps receded, and once the door to her room closed, everyone collectively let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. 

Stiles turned to Scott with a grin. “Well, that went great.” 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even let you into my house ?” 

You leaned against the table , shaking your head with a small smile. Isaac, who was still standing nearby, caught your eye. His lips quirked up into a faint smirk, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Homework club, huh?” he said quietly, the teasing lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn. 

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way your pulse betrayed you. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

His smirk widened just a little, and before you could say anything else, Stiles cut in. “Alright, now that the mom crisis is over, can we please focus on the Kanima before it decides to show up and eat someone?”

Once the group got back to discussing the Kanima (without Derek, who had clearly had enough), Stiles predictably wandered off into the kitchen, announcing he needed to refuel. 

Scott groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stiles! We’re trying to plan here!” He sighed, giving in and following his friend to presumably drag him back—or at least stop him from raiding the fridge. 

That left you alone with Isaac. 

The room suddenly felt much quieter, the weight of his presence amplifying everything. You tried to focus on the map on the table, but the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears made it impossible. 

“You heading out?” Isaac’s voice broke the silence, his tone low and casual, but his question caught you off guard. 

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking with his startlingly blue ones. For a moment, you forgot how words worked.

Then, snapping out of it, you shook your head quickly. “Nope,” you said, the p popping more than you intended. 

You immediately cursed yourself. Smooth. 

Isaac tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned against the edge of the table. 

“Stiles drove me here,” you added, trying to sound nonchalant. “So I’ll be waiting until he’s done… y’know, with eating Scott's entire fridge” You rolled your eyes, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. 

Isaac’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken—again. He noticed, of course. Of course he did. 

Your heart was racing so fast now that you were sure it was louder than your voice. A tiny, irrational part of you hoped he hadn’t noticed, but deep down, you knew better. He was a werewolf, after all.

Isaac tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the side like he was trying to stifle a grin. Then he leaned in just a fraction, closing some of the distance between you.

“You know,” he started, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you should really work on that.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Work on what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Isaac’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped a finger lightly against his chest, just over his heart. “That,” he said, his tone almost playful.

You froze, your face heating instantly as the realization sank in. He could hear it—your racing heartbeat—and he was absolutely calling you out on it.

Before you could even attempt to recover, Isaac stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he passed. The touch was brief but enough to send your nerves spiraling.

“I’ve got to head out,” he said, his voice soft now. He paused near the door, glancing back at you with that same teasing smile. “But don’t worry. It’s kinda flattering.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, equal parts mortified and exhilarated.

You let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Great. Just great,” you muttered to yourself.

From the kitchen, Stiles’ voice rang out. “Hey! Did Isaac just leave? Did I miss something?” 

You let out a long sigh, glaring at the doorway. “Just eat your food, Stiles!” 

[ignitesthestxrs]

there's something about the way people talk about john gaius (incl the way the author writes him) that is like. so absent of any connection to te ao māori that it's really discomforting. like even in posts that acknowledge him as not being white, they still talk about him like a white, american leftist guy in a way that makes it clear people just AREN'T perceiving him as a māori man from aotearoa.

and it's just really serves to hammer home how powerful and pervasive whiteness and american hegemony is. because TLT is probably the single most Kiwi series in years to explode on the global stage, and all the things i find fraught about it as a pākehā woman reading a series by a pākehā author are illegible to a greater fandom of americans discoursing about whether or not memes are a valid way of portraying queer love.

idk the part of my brain that lights up every time i see a capital Z printed somewhere because of the New Zealand Mentioned??? instinct will always be proud of these books and muir. but i find myself caught in this midpoint of excitement and validation over my culture finding a place on the global stage, frustration at how kiwi humour and means of conveying emotion is misinterpreted or declared facile by an international audience, frustrated also by how that international audience runs the characters in this book through a filter of american whiteness before it bothers to interpret them, and ESPECIALLY frustrated by how muir has done a pretty middling job of portraying te ao māori and the māoriness of her characters, but tht conversation doesn't circulate in the same way* because a big part of the audience doesn't even realise the conversation is there to be had.

which is not to say that muir has done a huge glaring racism that non-kiwis haven't noticed or anything, but rather that there are very definitely things that she has done well, things that she has done poorly, things that she didn't think about in the first book that she has tacked on or expanded upon in the later books, that are all worthy of discussion and critique that can't happen when the popular posts that float past my dash are about how this indigenous man is 'guy who won't shut up about having gone to oxford'

*to be clear here, i'm not saying these conversations have never happened, just that in terms of like, ambient posts that float round my very dykey dash, the discussions and meta that circulate on this the lesbian social media, are overwhelmingly stripped of any connection to aotearoa in general, let alone te ao māori in specific. and because of the nature of american internet hegemony this just,,,isn't noticed, because how does a fish know it's in the ocean u know? i have seen discussions along these lines come up, and it's there if i specifically go looking for it, but it's not present in the bulk of tlt content that has its own circulatory life and i jut find that grim and a part of why the fandom is difficult to engage with.

[lokh]

LISTEN... for all that shuro is frustrated by him he really Gets who laios is. it's because he understands him so well that he felt bad about being frustrated for so long

[ghosts-and-glory]

I know you've previously said that you don't like anyone misgendering Shamura, but what if it's in a flashback? Like Shamura used to be male/female and then transitioned to they/them pronouns.

Would that be an acceptable form of misgendering, since it would be backstory for explaining how Shamura is now they/them?

Y’all really do just want any excuse to disrespect non-binary people huh?

I really like how the idea of Shamura having a binary sex is stated as a fact/sar. As if cult of the lamb has any references to binary sex. This also assumes that I’m the ultimate authority on Shamura’s gender. “Acceptable form of misgendering,” Jesus.

[pastmuse]

The girl I work with on wednesdays and saturdays pisses me off so bad lol .. I actually like my job but she makes me wanna go home -_-

[imtheiliad]

Anyway, just a reminder, that having anon on is not an open invitation to bitch and moan in someone’s inbox 🩷

[theplotwizard]

I want to Learn. Because Learning is Understanding. And Understanding is Loving.

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[unboundprompts]

body language descriptions please?

(eg: she cocked her head)

thank you 💗💗💗

Body Language Descriptions

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Anxiety/Nervousness

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tugging nervously at the fabric as she struggled to find the right words.

They bit their lower lip.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, a clear indication of his guilt.

She absentmindedly rubbed her neck.

He chewed his nails, a nervous habit that he couldn't seem to quit.

They rubbed their hands together nervously.

He tightened his jaw.

She felt beads of sweat forming on her brow, betraying her calm facade as her heart raced.

Frustration/Impatience

Their fists clenched at their sides.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, a clear sign of impatience as he waited for her to finish.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture full of exasperation as he dismissed her words.

She let out a heavy sigh, the sound heavy with resignation as she faced the inevitable.

He threw his hands up in defeat.

Curiosity

He leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear more, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical as she questioned his intentions.

She tilted her head slightly.

He watched intently, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in every detail of her story.

Confidence/Assertiveness

He stood tall with his shoulders back, projecting confidence even in the face of uncertainty.

They sat on the edge of their seat.

She gestured wildly, her hands moving animatedly as she tried to express her excitement.

He stood with his hands on his hips, exuding an air of authority and control over the situation.

They held their chin up high, projecting self-assurance even in the face of adversity.

Defensiveness/Resignation

He crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive posture that spoke volumes about his discomfort.

He braced himself against the wall, a protective stance.

She folded her hands in her lap, a sign of restraint as she fought the urge to speak.

They shrank back slightly, their shoulders hunching as if trying to make themselves smaller in the face of criticism.

He held his breath momentarily, steeling himself for the inevitable conflict he sensed was coming.

She covered her face with her hands, overwhelmed by the situation as she tried to block out the world.

Thoughtfulness/Concentration

She furrowed her brow in concentration, her mind clearly racing as she tried to solve the problem at hand.

She nodded slowly, processing the information, her expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He stared blankly into space, lost in thought as he processed what had just been revealed.

He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythmic sound a sign of his deep contemplation.

She tapped her foot lightly, her mind racing.

Eagerness/Excitement

He paced back and forth, his restless energy manifesting in the constant movement as he considered his options.

She bent forward, her elbows resting on her knees, a sign of intimacy and engagement in the conversation.

She swayed slightly from side to side, a subconscious display of her nervous energy as she waited for the verdict.

He bounced on his toes, his excitement palpable.

She jumped up and down, a spontaneous display of her joy that couldn’t be contained.

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[konigsblog]

TW: NON-CON, SOMNOPHILIA, AFAB!F!READER. 18+

Somnophilia with König (🌽 link)

König is a man with needs. He can't go without your sweet, loveable cunt for longer than a day otherwise he's left sexually frustrated and pent up. Your adorable pussy is a coping mechanism for his frustrations and trauma, an outlet for his pleasure, anger, and sadness.

You looked tempting while asleep in bed. König admired the relaxed and calm expression on your face, what he was about to disturb due to his own selfishness. He unfastened his belt slowly, rubbing the your glistening cunt in small circles. You were a fool to fall asleep naked in bed knowing how horny he becomes at the sight of you. it seems that you haven't learnt from your mistake, Engel. He couldn't help himself, he just hopes that you'll understand his desires.

Each thrust feels heavenly. König is left in a state of delirium and confusion as he ruts into your drooling pussy. His fingers grip your hair tightly and angle your face so that he can watch out for discomfort, towering above your bent over figure while carefully watching your facial expressions. He grits his teeth at the tightness of your pulsing walls, cursing himself for being so cruel. “I’m so sorry, Mäuschen. You know I can’t help myself, I’m a pervert” Guilt washes over König who lowers his head in shame as he ploughs his swollen cock into your folds selfishly, too depraved to stop himself.

You're tighter when you're sleeping, it's something he's noticed. You're unaware of how often this happens, how repetitive it is for König. He can't seem to pull out as he continues, growing addicted to the gummy feeling of your insides and the warm slick coat left dripping for his aching dick.

“You’re so adorable, little mouse. Your body knows that it belongs to me, even when you’re asleep.”

[alsofoundinpeas]

No One's Ever Had Me (Not Like You)

Summary: After JJ's insensitive remarks toward Spencer become too much to ignore, Y/N steps in to comfort him, igniting a friendship that rapidly grows into something more. Though Y/N falls for him first, Spencer soon finds himself falling even harder, realizing no one has ever cared for him the way she does—and he's ready to return it in full.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Oral/Facesitting (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), masturbating (m!only), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex/PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it lovelies pls), c** swallowing (I don't know how else to put that HAHAHA), slight overstim (for both parties), slightly ooc!JJ (for the plot), one brief argument scene between the reader and JJ. Fluff and smut. Coworkers to friends to lovers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: I love a little "she fell first, he fell harder" trope, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I am once again pleading my case that I am NOT a JJ hater!! I just saw a clip of this scene from season 3 and was inspired because I too have been in Spencer's shoes and honestly it hurts, so I wanted to change up the outcome a little bit. The title comes from Taylor Swift's "So High School" but the fic isn't necessarily based around the song if that makes sense. As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N had never been particularly fond of JJ. They worked well together, of course—professionalism came first—but there was something about JJ that rubbed her the wrong way. It felt so high school to say, but Y/N had always seen her as a bit of a "mean girl."

Y/N had joined the BAU a year after Spencer, and she’d witnessed firsthand the awkwardness when Spencer, shy and eager, had asked JJ to go to a football game with him as a date after Gideon had given him tickets. A sweet, innocent gesture, only for JJ to show up with Penelope in tow, turning the evening into a humiliating disaster for Spencer. That was just one of the many moments Y/N had found herself bristling at JJ's treatment of him. Despite JJ’s consistent indifference and occasional cruelty, Spencer’s feelings for her had never wavered. 

Until today.

Spencer sat across from JJ on the jet, eager to share his excitement about the book he was reading and its similarities with Pinocchio, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he rambled on. He barely noticed the lack of interest in JJ's eyes, her eyebrows raised in a near-sarcastic expression as she muttered a disinterested "Wow" in the middle of his sentence. She tossed the case file onto the table without a second glance and stood. "Interesting. Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, her smile a brittle, saccharine mask. 

Spencer froze, his words dying in his throat as she swiftly walked away. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest—an awkward mix of humiliation and disappointment. Was he that annoying? His hands trembled slightly as he glanced down at the book in his lap, the pages now feeling heavier than they had moments ago. He cleared his throat, but the discomfort lingered, thick in the air.

Y/N had been watching the whole exchange from her spot on the couch, her eyes narrowing as she watched JJ throw her head back in a loud laugh at something Morgan had said about “escaping the robot” from across the jet. That was the breaking point. Y/N's stomach twisted with frustration. She was tired—so tired—of watching JJ repeatedly gut the sweet boy simply because he had a hopeless crush on her, one that JJ clearly saw as beneath her.  

Swinging her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, Y/N stood and made her way to the seat JJ had previously been occupying, sliding into it abruptly.

Spencer’s head jerked up as she quickly filled the seat, blinking hard as confusion washed over his features. “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N… was there something you needed?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping back to the table, hoping she wouldn’t notice the wounded look in his eyes.

“I was listening to your conversation earlier and wanted to ask if you would continue. Please.”

Spencer’s mouth parted in surprise, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. She… wanted to listen to him? He swallowed, his brows furrowing slightly as he hesitated before speaking. “You... you don’t have to do that just to make me feel better, you know.”

Y/N shook her head firmly, her hands coming together on the table as she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’m not asking you to continue because I feel sorry for you. I’m asking because I actually want to hear what you have to say.” Her tone was gentle yet sincere, and there was no mistaking the genuine interest in her words.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the moment before he finally opened his mouth, stumbling over the words to continue his excited rant from earlier. Spencer felt something shift inside him with every hum of acknowledgment, nod, and occasional question or light joke. It hit him all at once—this was how she always spoke to him: fully engaged, genuinely curious. She didn’t see him as the genius or the outcast. She saw him as... just Spencer. A person. Not a curiosity. Not a burden. Just him.

And for the rest of the flight, Y/N encouraged Spencer to spill every single thought that came to mind, entranced by the sweet boy in front of her for the entire time.

It was late when they finally landed, the team worn out and eager to get home. With quick goodbyes and Hotch’s promise of a day off tomorrow, the group trickled out of the office, one by one. When Spencer was left alone in the bullpen, he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat at his desk under the guise of needing to look for something before leaving. His thoughts kept drifting back to the interaction with Y/N on the jet. He couldn’t shake it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already friends—talking to her was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about their interaction today felt different. Maybe it was how quickly she’d stepped in when she saw he was hurt? Then again, the more Spencer thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t all that unusual either. He’d often felt out of place—whether it was the team’s teasing that sometimes went too far, JJ’s backhanded compliments that left him more bewildered than flattered, or the officers who looked past him because of his age or appearance.

And every time, without fail, Y/N had been there. She was always the one picking up the pieces of his bruised confidence, offering him quiet support with nothing more than a kind word or a warm smile, never asking for anything in return.

“Spencer?” 

Spencer jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in his seat, heart racing, to find Y/N standing there, her hands raised in a placating gesture. He’d thought she’d already left with the rest of the team, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  

“Whoa, take it easy—it's just me. Are you okay?” Y/N approached slowly, her expression softening with concern as Spencer took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Uh, yeah! I-I’m fine,” Spencer stammered, wincing as his voice cracked. “I just… I thought everyone had already left.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a chuckle, flashing a sheepish grin. “I told Hotch I’d drop everything off in evidence before heading out, but I kind of took my time.” She shrugged, then glanced at him. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought about her question. What was he still doing here, other than overthinking a simple conversation on the jet? He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “I thought I left a certain book here, but... it turns out it’s actually at home.” The weak excuse was followed by a nervous laugh as Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, silently hoping she wouldn’t question him further. 

It seemed luck was on his side, as she nodded slowly—her disbelief clear, but deciding not to press. Instead, she offered a soft smile and tilted her head toward the elevator. “Well, if you're heading out now, would you like to walk with me to my car?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope. “I can give you a ride so you don’t have to take the metro so late.”

Spencer was momentarily surprised by the offer, but before he could overanalyze it, he found himself nodding. She’d offered him rides before, and he’d always turned her down, worried he’d be inconveniencing her or that she was just being polite. But tonight, after the grueling case, he felt too drained to talk himself out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to spending a little more time with her—just the two of them.

“Um… that would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Y/N waved it off with a playful grin. “It’s really no big deal, Spencer. I honestly wish you'd take me up on it more often. I worry about you on those late trains, and I live just five minutes from you. It’d be nice to have some company on the way home.” 

They continued their light conversation the entire way to the parking garage, pausing only when they got to her car. Y/N fumbled with her keys, unlocking the doors quickly before they slid inside.

The first thing Spencer noticed was the sweet fragrance of her perfume, filling the small space around them. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but now he found himself trying hard not to breathe in too deeply, captivated by the scent and wanting more of it. The smell of her shampoo blended with the fragrance, intensifying as she turned her head to back out of her parking spot. Spencer hadn’t even realized the car had started until that moment.

The next thing he noticed was the sticker on her dash reading Amor Fati. A faint smile curled at his lips as he shifted his gaze to her. He watched her silently for a moment as she focused on the road.

“Lover of fate, huh?”

“Hm?” Y/N frowned in confusion, shooting him a quick sideways glance as she stopped at a red light. It took a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah. What about it, doc?” She chuckled, her voice light and teasing.

Spencer hummed, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing… But, did you know that Friedrich Nietzsche built most of his philosophy around that phrase?”

They plunged into a lively conversation, exchanging thoughts on various philosophers and their personal interpretations of the phrase. Spencer was captivated. The only other person who had ever indulged him in such “nerdy” discussions was Penelope (mostly about Doctor Who, of course). It was oddly refreshing, but at the same time, it only added fuel to the fire of his overthinking.

What was it that kept him so hopelessly fixated on JJ? She could be a good friend at times—he wouldn’t deny that—but there were moments when he felt like nothing more than a charity case. Like that kid who clings to someone at school, oblivious to the fact that they don’t actually want to talk to them. She was beautiful, of course—anyone could see that. But they didn’t share much in common, and their hobbies barely aligned. So why did he always end up seeking her out, when there were so many other people he could spend time with?

After the incident on the jet, Spencer had made a decision. He was done pouring so much energy into the blonde liaison and instead would focus on building a genuine friendship with Y/N. Not just the casual co-worker relationship they had, but something real. Maybe that’s why her sudden attention on the jet had caught him off guard. Maybe it wasn’t a crush forming, but rather a deep-rooted loneliness, a subconscious desire for a true friend. That had to be it.

The drive to his apartment seemed to fly by, and as Spencer stepped out of the car, he was surprised by the sense of reluctance that settled over him. He murmured his thanks and goodnight to Y/N, offering a shy smile, his thoughts lingering on the brief but unexpected moment of connection.

"Hey, Spencer?" Y/N called just as he was about to close the door. He paused, and she went on, her tone genuine. "I meant what I said. If you ever want to skip the metro and ride with me instead, I’d love the company. Honestly, I enjoyed our drive so much more than the usual Top 40 hits on the radio."

Spencer’s smile grew, a hesitant nod accompanying the soft bite of his lower lip. This was the opportunity to build something real with her, and for once, he decided not to second-guess it. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a blend of relief and excitement bubbling up inside her. A smile spread across her face as she let out a soft breath. "Great. I’m looking forward to it," she said, her voice warm. "Goodnight, Spencer. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

The first week of Spencer’s newfound behavior had Y/N feeling… disoriented, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all. She was genuinely thrilled by the extra attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what had caused the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Spencer had begun riding home with her after work, both of them quickly growing fond of the newfound companionship. Throughout the day, he found himself gravitating toward her desk more often, offering to help with paperwork or providing a second opinion when she second guessed something. As they spent more time together, their conversations became easier—what had started as awkward exchanges soon evolved into Spencer initiating talks, no longer waiting for her to take the lead.

The irritated huff that escaped JJ’s lips as she stormed past everyone and into her office after Spencer politely declined her offer to sit with her and sort through case files, made it clear—Y/N wasn’t the only one noticing the change.

The next notable shift came when the BAU was called to California for a case. As everyone filed onto the jet and took their usual seats, there was one exception: Spencer Reid. When Y/N settled onto the couch, she was greeted by a soft, uncertain voice.

“Can I join you?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously tugging at the end of his cardigan sleeves as he blinked at her with those sweet, vulnerable brown eyes.

The entire team glanced up in surprise, caught off guard by Spencer's decision not to take his usual spot across from JJ. Y/N, both puzzled and pleased, quickly moved to make space, patting the seat beside her with an encouraging smile.

"Of course, Spence. Go right ahead."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief as he settled into the seat next to Y/N, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing from his body. Ignoring the gawking from the others, he leaned in slightly, feeling more at ease in her presence. As Y/N opened the case file, he glanced at her with a small smile, ready to dive into the work with her by his side.

Morgan chuckled from across the jet, looking at JJ with raised brows as she scoffed to herself. "What'd you do to piss off the kid?"

“I didn’t do anything! And when did she start calling him ‘Spence’?” JJ grumbled, her arms crossed defensively as she narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

“Whoa,” Morgan muttered, his smile dropping into a frown. “Didn’t realize I was hitting a sore spot. What’s it matter what she calls him, anyway?”

JJ stiffened, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to respond. Morgan was right—she wasn’t the only one who could give Spencer a nickname. But that was her name for him, and it stung a little more now, given the distance that had been growing between them.

"It’s nothing," JJ replied quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "I was just surprised, that’s all." But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest, unsure why it bothered her so much.

The remainder of the flight was spent with the team discussing the case, Hotch assigning tasks for when they touched down. Once they had gone over everything they could, the conversation tapered off, and silence settled over the cabin. Each team member retreated into their own thoughts, but Y/N and Spencer remained deep in discussion, quietly exchanging ideas about the unsub.

As they leaned in to continue their conversation, they unknowingly inched closer, drawn together by the ease of their shared focus. And when Spencer felt Y/N's knee brush against his, he kept his leg still, savoring the contact in silence—his secret to keep.

It took Spencer just over two months to finally gather the courage to ask Y/N to hang out outside of work or their shared car rides—something he had started contributing to so he could get more comfortable with driving. She’d quickly climbed the ranks of people he favored and felt comfortable with, but the fear of rejection still held him back. He didn’t want to jeopardize the connection they’d built, especially when it felt so important to him.

Spencer’s fear dissolved when he asked Y/N to come over and watch a film he’d picked up at an antique shop. Her excited smile and enthusiastic "Duh, I'd love to!" made him realize that she’d likely been waiting for him to take the first step all along.

He was grateful for how Y/N allowed him to move at his own pace, understanding that his accelerated path through high school and college had made it difficult for him to form connections. She never rushed him, giving him the space to open up when he was ready and letting their relationship develop naturally.

Y/N arrived at Spencer’s apartment, her arms loaded with snacks and dressed in cozy clothes, her excitement palpable. She enjoyed their car rides, of course, but an hour together hardly seemed enough compared to the time she truly longed to spend with him.

Y/N had been captivated by Spencer for years, but the more time they spent together, the harder her heart beat for him—every smile, every laugh, every conversation only added to her growing feelings. She told herself she was content with just being friends, that having him in her life, even in the smallest way, was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—her heart yearned for something more, something that seemed just out of reach.

"Y/N! Hi, welcome in!"

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, his grin wide with excitement as he motioned for her to step inside. The sight of him—beaming with an almost childlike enthusiasm—made her smile in return. His apartment matched her expectations in the best way possible: shelves overflowing with books and quirky knick-knacks, soft, ambient light spilling from lamps that cast a cozy glow across the room, and a desk strewn with an organized mess of case files and open journals. It was a perfect reflection of Spencer—intellectually chaotic, but with an undeniable charm and warmth.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as she entered the living room, and for a moment, he lost track of everything around him. He had always seen her dressed up for work—polished, professional, a perfect image of control. But now, in her casual clothes, with her hair down and no hint of the usual makeup, she looked entirely different.

She was still stunning, but it was a softer kind of beauty, one that crept up on him and left him breathless before he even realized it. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first glance, but once he took her in, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Spencer had always thought he knew Y/N, but this version of her… this version felt like a secret he wasn’t ready to discover yet.

"Where would you like these?" Y/N asked, lifting her arms up with the snacks.

The sound of her voice broke Spencer from his daze, and he quickly moved to help, grabbing a few items to set them down on the coffee table. "Oh, uh, you didn’t have to bring snacks," he stammered, his hands fumbling with the food as he awkwardly rearranged it. "I was just going to order takeout or something. You’re the guest," he added, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. His mind was racing, still caught in the subtle sweetness of her perfume that lingered in the air as he leaned in to grab the bags, making it hard to focus.

Y/N shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips as she set the snacks down. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And if you’re still craving takeout later, I won't stop you from ordering it. Sound good?"

He nodded, his nose twitching as he grinned, feeling his tension ease. It was just Y/N, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel this flustered.

An hour later, with the movie playing and a bag of gummy bears between them, Spencer quickly realized he'd been wrong. He had plenty of reasons to feel flustered.

The film, which had subtitles, was riddled with translation errors. Each time a jumbled sentence appeared, Y/N would lean in close, her breath warm against his ear causing shivers up and down his spine as she whispered, "What does that one mean?" Her thigh brushed against his, neither of them making any effort to break the contact. Spencer felt an almost electric warmth spread through him from the slight touch, his body aching for more. Was he really that starved for affection?

That night seemed to crack something deep inside him, like a dam giving way to a flood of longing for touch.

Spencer—who had always been wary of physical contact—now found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Every time they handed each other papers or worked on case files together, he’d make sure their fingers brushed. As he passed by her desk, he’d let his fingers trace along her shoulder blades, offering her a quiet smile that she always returned. After particularly exhausting days, he’d seek her out, leaning into her embrace, letting her arms offer him comfort and grounding. And during their hangouts, Spencer no longer hesitated to inch closer, letting his side press against hers, or allowing her to stretch her legs over his lap. The proximity felt natural, and he couldn’t help but crave it more.

It only got worse as time went on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. It wasn't just casual touches anymore—it was almost as if every opportunity to be near her was a chance to close the distance between them. Y/N couldn't get enough of it. And the team? They definitely noticed. JJ, in particular, seemed to pick up on it right away.

JJ had attempted to confront Spencer about his growing closeness with Y/N before, but each time, he waved her off, insisting that he and Y/N had simply discovered they had more in common than he'd realized and that he just wanted to be her friend. JJ wasn’t convinced—not for a second. It was obvious to her that Spencer was falling for Y/N, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she harbored romantic feelings for him, but she had grown accustomed to his attention. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed being the one to receive it.

The tension finally boiled over when the team was dispatched to a case in Oregon.

It had been six months since the incident on the jet, and Y/N and Spencer had become almost inseparable. Garcia and Morgan, delighted by their closeness, often teased them and playfully begged them to just admit they were dating—though both vehemently insisted that their relationship was purely platonic. Rossi and Emily often exchanged knowing looks on the jet, with Emily even going so far as to snap a picture of Y/N and Spencer sleeping on the couch after a case—a cute picture featuring Spencer’s head resting on Y/N’s and her face tucked into his shoulder as they peacefully dozed together. Even Hotch seemed to approve, having reviewed the Bureau’s internal fraternization policies just in case Strauss raised an issue. The only person who didn’t seem thrilled about it was JJ.

Two days in Oregon, and the team was already facing an uphill battle. They’d been working non-stop to build a profile for the unsub, but so far, nothing had gone right. There were no witnesses who could provide a description, a local officer had already compromised key evidence from the first crime scene, and the victims seemed to have no clear link to one another. Frustration was mounting for everyone, but for JJ it was mounting for an entirely separate reason.

Spencer had been managing his frustration through subtle touches with Y/N—brief brushes of his hand against her lower back as he passed, pressing his head into her shoulder with a frustrated groan after combing through their limited information for hours... But the moment that pushed JJ to her breaking point was when Spencer, noticing an officer staring at Y/N, pulled her possessively into him, his hand firmly gripping her waist until that officer left the room.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice was tight as she stepped into the conference room the local officers had set up for the BAU to use during their case, spotting Y/N standing in front of the pinned-up map of the area as she studied the locations where the victims had been found. Spencer had just left, going to start more coffee for them since they were running low. The rest of the team was out in the field, reinvestigating the crime scenes for anything that may have been missed initially.

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing as JJ closed the door. They weren’t close on a personal level, and Y/N couldn’t think of any reason, related to the case or otherwise, for JJ to want to speak with her alone.

"...Yes?"

JJ lingered near the end of the table, her arms crossed across her chest as she leveled Y/N with a look that immediately had her on edge. "I’m not trying to pry, but as his best friend, I have to ask… what’s going on between you and Spencer?" Her face was twisted in a scowl, her head tilting as she waited for a response.

Y/N's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline at that, a scoffed laugh leaving her lips before she could stop it. His best friend. Was she serious?

"Excuse me?"

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" JJ repeated, her voice deliberate. "Everyone’s noticed how he’s been acting—the constant touching, for one, is a bit much, don’t you think? He never wants to hang out with me anymore. It’s like he's all about you now. So, are you two seeing each other or what?"

Y/N turned to face JJ fully, her lips tightening into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. Her audacity was astounding, truly. The last thing she wanted today was to argue with this fucking—

"That's hilarious, Jennifer. Really," Y/N chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—Spencer is an adult who can make his own decisions? I’m not the reason he doesn't want to spend time with you."

JJ stiffened at the mention of her name, scoffing in response. "Oh, clearly you have something to do with it. Before you started driving him home, he followed me around like a lost puppy. Now he barely even wants to be around me!"

That struck a nerve in Y/N, like a live wire finally sparked to life. A lost puppy? Was that truly how little she thought of him? Y/N's head tilted, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone as she spoke again.

"Don't you ever talk about Spencer like that again. He's not your fucking pet, Jennifer!"

Her voice was menacing as she stepped forward, grim satisfaction coursing through her as JJ stumbled backward.

"Spencer is a brilliant, capable man who’s never deserved the way you or anyone else have made him feel less than that. We’re not dating. But if we were, I wouldn’t be ashamed of him. Unlike you, who found the idea of a man like him adoring you repulsive instead of seeing it for the gift it was. Spencer Reid is a fucking treasure, and it’s entirely your fault you never realized how lucky you were to have his attention."

Y/N's face was flushed red with anger, her chest heaving as she seethed.

"So again, I have nothing to do with him not wanting to spend time with you anymore. Maybe he finally realized that you're just not as great of a person as you pretend to be."

Rather than waiting for the teary-eyed, speechless blonde to reply, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, heading out to take an early lunch. But as she swung the door open, she was met with Spencer standing right there, and before she could react, she collided with his chest. His hands immediately flew to her waist, steadying her as she looked up sheepishly.

"Shit! I’m sorry, Spence," Y/N muttered, still fuming from her conversation with JJ. Her face turned even redder when she realized he might have heard some of it, but she didn’t regret a word of what she’d said.

He hadn't just heard some of it... He'd heard all of it. When he’d left earlier, he’d turned back, intending to ask if she wanted to take a break from the map. Instead, he had been met with the sight of JJ closing the door, and he curiously (shamefully) pressed up against it to know what was going on.

Admittedly, it stung to hear JJ talk about him like that, even though he already knew she'd taken advantage of his past crush on her. But Y/N's words and how she defended him hit him harder than expected. It became clear in that instant—no one had ever been there for him the way she always had been, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Spencer said quietly, his hands smoothing over her waist before resting gently on her shoulders. "Go take your lunch. You’ve earned a break. I’ll keep working on the geographical profile until you return."

Y/N offered a weary but grateful smile before walking away, leaving Spencer alone to process the revelation weighing on him.

That night, Spencer paced his hotel room, caught between waiting until they were home to tell Y/N how he felt or just saying it now. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner, for convincing himself his feelings for her were purely platonic. But now that he knew, it consumed him. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the world he was in love with her.

Spencer knew what he had to do. He realized that confessing his feelings in the middle of a case wasn’t ideal, but the thought of waiting any longer to let her know how much she meant to him was unbearable. That’s why, before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself standing outside her door at midnight, knocking softly.

"Spence? You okay?"

Her sleepy voice tugged at his heart as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. She smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminated the crumpled sheets, evidence of her restless sleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed in unsteadily, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. She crawled back to the middle, flicking on the bedside lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow between them. His courage started to falter, but the gentle concern in her eyes anchored him. He remembered why he was here—because with her, he felt safe enough to face this, no matter how vulnerable he felt.

"Y/N, I—" Spencer began, his voice catching for a moment, but he continued anyway. "I heard what happened with JJ earlier, and it made me realize something I should’ve recognized a long time ago. I was so caught up in denial that it didn’t hit me until now. And I’m so sorry for that…"

Oh, fuck. He was starting to ramble. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all—

"Y/N... I'm in love with you. I am so, so in love with you that it aches. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And it’s not just the way you look, though I could spend hours talking about how stunning you are. It’s who you are, the goodness that radiates from you. You make me want to be better, to wake up every day and try to be at least half the person you are. You care for everyone around you like it’s your purpose, and I want to be the one who takes care of you for once because you truly deserve that. I’ve never felt anything like this, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I just—I needed you to know."

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Spencer’s confession filled the air, her eyes welling with tears as the words she had longed for spilled from him. She moved swiftly, sitting up from the pillows and crawling toward him, a tear dripping down her cheek as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Spencer Reid," she breathed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you with everything I am."

Spencer’s lungs burned as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned her watery smile, his heart overflowing with love for the woman before him. Carefully, he cupped her face, his thumb following the line of her cheeks, his eyes filled with a quiet mix of wonder and adoration.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Her lips were on his the second he uttered the last syllable.

The kiss was both gentle and intense, their lips meeting with a deliberate slowness as if savoring every moment of crossing the line from friendship into something more. There was a hunger beneath the tenderness, an unspoken yearning finally being released. Their lips parted for only a second, allowing them to suck in a quick breath before they were back on each other. Each kiss was a quiet revelation, better than they had ever dreamed.

What started as an innocent declaration of their feelings for each other quickly evolved into something more ravenous as Spencer’s tongue prodded at the seam of her lips. The soft exhale Y/N released as their tongues brushed together had Spencer groaning, one of his hands sliding to cradle the back of her head as he savored the taste of her and the feeling of her lips against his. His other hand gingerly slid down her body, settling on her hip as he leaned forward, guiding her to rest against the pillows.

Y/N’s thighs parted eagerly to make room for him between them, her hands lacing through his hair as she tugged him impossibly closer. His elbows dug into the mattress beside her body as he hovered above her, swallowing the moan that slipped from her lips when their hips pressed together. He chased her lips when she tipped her head back, kissing her with an intensity that made her dizzy and had her whining into his mouth.

"I-I want— Spence, please—"

Y/N pleaded as his lips trailed down the side of her neck to suck a mark into her collarbone, though she wasn't even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed him. Her body felt like it was aflame, ignited by the spark that was Spencer's tongue soothing the possessive bruise now blooming across her skin. She needed him so desperately that her mind became a blur, consumed by an endless craving, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming desire for more—more of him, more of this, more of everything he offered.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did little to conceal the feeling of his stiff cock grinding against her in subtle rocks of his hips as his hands began to roam her body, only adding to the overwhelming need she felt coursing through her. Spencer hushed her with a gentle peck, his lips lingering against hers for a brief, sweet moment before he moved to kiss her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. With each gentle kiss, she couldn't help but giggle softly, her laughter melting into the space between them.

"I know, pretty girl. You're already so worked up and all I've done is kiss you," he cooed, the words taking her by surprise. He wasn't wrong. A wet patch had started seeping through the cotton of her pants, something his fingers had taken an interest in as he began to lightly skim up and down her clit with his knuckles over the damp fabric. "No one ever takes care of you, do they, baby? Let me be the one to take care of you, Y/N. Please?" He paused, gently lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

Spencer’s words quieted the storm raging inside her, and she took a deep breath, her body finally relaxing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such a strong desire to let go, to stop carrying the weight of everything alone. To finally surrender and let someone take care of her. So she did exactly that.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Spencer," Y/N whispered, her eyes searching his, full of need and trust.

It was as if a switch flipped the moment Spencer got the confirmation he needed.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, devouring her as though she'd melt away if he stopped touching her for even a second. He rolled them over, breaking the kiss to glide his hands underneath the rumpled t-shirt Y/N had on for bed and lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Ignoring her soft squeal of surprise, he brought his hands down to her hips, massaging the skin there before sliding his hands under the waistband of her pajama pants to grip her ass.

"Look at you… You're nothing short of incredible. Absolutely breathtaking," Spencer murmured, staring up at her in awe. The soft brown of his eyes had faded, overtaken by the dark void of his dilated pupils, as if a veil had been drawn across them. "I can't even begin to express how lucky I am to have you... how beautiful you are."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she placed her hands beside his head for support. She shivered as her nipples brushed against the fabric of his shirt, hardened by the cool air of the hotel room and the desire she felt coursing through her. She answered with a hum and ducked her head shyly, mouthing at the sensitive skin underneath his jaw as she wriggled impatiently in his hold.

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, squeezing her ass again before retracting his hands. His fingers danced along the waistband of her pants teasingly before he began to tug them down, dragging her panties with them. His heart raced as she wiggled out of them, hammering against his chest with a rhythm that felt almost deafening. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d done to deserve someone like her, but he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew just how precious she was to him.

"It's your turn to strip," Y/N mumbled as she sat up, straddling his waist as her hands found their way under his shirt. "I feel so... exposed."

Spencer’s brows quirked in amusement, a quiet laugh slipping out before he could stop it as she shoved the shirt up and over his head. She slithered down his body, grinning up at him before placing a kiss on his hip bone. His pants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the ground, followed shortly after by his boxers.

"There. Is that better, sweetheart?" Spencer teased, but the words went completely unheard as she gawked at him.

Y/N kneeled between his spread legs, her hands planted firmly on his thighs as she took in the sight of him. He lay before her like something straight out of her most vivid dreams, more stunning than she’d ever imagined. He was effortlessly handsome—his hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, and freckles and scars scattered across his shoulders and chest like a map of his past. His muscles were lean and toned, and the sparse hair trailing down beneath his belly button was far more enticing than it should've been. His cock was as pretty as he was, the flushed head of his more than impressive arousal matching the pink of his cheeks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"C'mere. I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Spencer grinned, motioning for Y/N to crawl back over him.

Instead of letting her settle with her thighs around his hips like she had previously been, he tugged insistently, her brows furrowing in confusion as she wobbled above him.

"Spencer, what—"

"Get up here," Spencer crooned, finally managing to maneuver her forward so her pussy hovered over his mouth. "And sit down."

Y/N's jaw dropped, her hands flying out to catch herself as she gripped the headboard. She was taken aback, utterly speechless. Here she was, being manhandled by Spencer Reid. The same quiet, awkward genius who rambled endlessly about statistics and couldn’t sit still for more than a minute was man-handling her and demanding she sit on his face. Was she dreaming?

"Are you— are you sure?" Y/N squeaked, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Spencer turned his head so he could pepper open-mouthed kisses up and down her inner thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her as his warm breath fanned across her soaked folds.

"Stop all that worrying, pretty girl. I told you I'd take care of you—let me keep my word."

Before she could protest, Spencer gripped her hips, pulling her down at the same time he tilted his head up to lap his tongue over her core. Any hesitation Y/N had left evaporated from her body as a guttural moan ripped its way from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as Spencer dragged his tongue over her clit. His movements were languid but hungry as he reveled in the taste of her, relishing her essence as though it was the very thing he needed to fuel his existence.

The air was filled with a mixture of moans and the slick sound of Spencer's mouth working between her legs, only amplifying the intense pleasure swimming through her body. Once Spencer was sure Y/N would stay put, he let one of his hands fall away from her hips, tracing it down his body until it wrapped around his cock. The breathy sounds she was letting out had him painfully hard, his thumb spreading the bead of precum spilling from the tip down the length of him as he began to pump himself.

"Oh, fuck—" Y/N whined as she forced her eyes open, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of Spencer touching himself. The sight had her thighs trembling, a low groan rumbling in her throat as she turned her gaze down to look at him underneath her.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows pinched together in pleasure as his hand began to move faster. It was downright sinful. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Spencer alternated between fucking his tongue into her and sucking gently at her clit, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm at a speed she never thought was possible. Y/N's hips rocked against his face, frantic whimpers slipping from her lips as her face began to scrunch in pleasure. The needy moans he was letting out against her skin pushed her over the edge as a sharp gasp broke free into the air, followed by a loud cry as her hands dropped from the headboard to tangle into his hair while she came.

Spencer whimpered as he let go of himself, instead using his hands to anchor her down while he gently worked her through her climax. He pressed a small kiss to her clit before she squirmed away, falling onto the bed beside him as her chest heaved. A look of adoration lingered on his face as he stroked her side and hair, pressing his lips to her forehead while she caught her breath.

Y/N flashed a small grin, rolling her eyes at his proud expression. A comforting heaviness settled in her limbs, pulling her deeper into the bed as she released a soft sigh. It took her a few moments to push herself up on her elbow, shifting to face him instead of lying flat on her back.

"How am I ever supposed to get anything done again now that I know you can do that?" Y/N murmured with a hint of exasperation, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

Spencer’s breath hitched as she draped her leg across his waist, hissing quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her warmth. He hummed, feigning thought before shrugging with a playful grin. "Could be a reward for a job well done," he teased, brushing a lingering kiss across her lips as his hand rubbed up and down her thigh.

"Yeah?" Y/N's hips began to slowly rock back and forth, the friction from his cock pressing between her folds making her head spin. "Well, can I reward you for a job well done then?"

Spencer's fingers flexed against her thigh, a low noise escaping him as he fought to keep his eyes on hers.

It made sense to him now why sailors would plummet into icy waters at the sound of a siren's call. If that call was anything as alluring as the sound of her voice, he'd happily do the same. She could demand the most heinous things of him right now and he'd do them simply because she asked.

But tonight was about her.

So instead of caving and begging for her touch, he shook his head, his lips quirking up at the pout forming on her lips. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, sweetheart. Not the other way around."

"Okay... so then take care of me by fucking me. Please?"

Spencer's resolve broke at her words. How could he possibly deny her? He'd be an absolute fool not to give her whatever her heart wished for.

His lips met hers in a fervent kiss as he moved to hover over her once more. Two of his fingers found her soaked pussy and sank inside of her with little resistance, a smug grin finding its way to his face as she gasped loudly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw before he whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Y/N bucked her hips up into his touch, writhing underneath him as she nodded frantically. There wasn't a thing in this world that she wanted more. "Yes, Spence, please. Please fuck me. I need it—"

Spencer groaned, latching his lips onto the side of her neck as he inhaled sharply through his nose before he sat back on his heels. His fingers slipped out of her, her eyes widening as he brought the digits to his mouth and sucked them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Flip over."

Y/N followed his command without hesitation, the rush of anticipation making her feel almost detached, as though she were on autopilot, waiting to see what he would do next. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he reached for a pillow, tucking it underneath her hips to prop her up. A low whine emitted from her chest as she felt the flushed head of his arousal bump against her entrance, her hips canting back in an attempt to get him to push forward as he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he planted his hands into the mattress beside her.

"Do you want it like this, sweetheart? No condom? Because I can go find one..." Spencer murmured into her ear, his breathing labored as he teased her opening.

"Please— Wanna feel you, Spence," She whined into the pillow, arching her hips into his touch, though he remained just out of reach.

Spencer's eyes squeezed shut as a pang of arousal shot through him, taking a shuddering breath to mentally prepare himself not to blow his load before he even fucked her. With a kiss to the back of her head, Spencer began to press forward, easing into her inch by inch.

Y/N's mouth gaped open against the pillow she'd tugged underneath her head in a silent moan, the sensation of him finally filling her more intense than she'd expected. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he bottomed out, a pitiful whimper slipping free as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to adjust to the feeling. Her walls clenched around him instinctively as she adjusted, causing a broken moan to fall from his lips as his head rested against her shoulder, his breath puffing across her skin in warm bursts.

His right arm kept him braced above her while his left arm made its way under her chest, pulling her close as his hand began to grope at her breasts. His fingertips pinched one of her nipples, reveling in the soft moan she let out. "Are you ready for me to move, pretty girl?" He breathed, peppering kisses along the side of her face as he waited for her to relax.

At her nod, Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow but powerful as he repeatedly drove into her. He shifted up onto his knees, pulling her hips back into his languid thrusts as she moaned beneath him. The angle allowed him to brush her G-spot with every stroke, causing her toes to curl with each pang of pleasure that wracked her body. His hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he took in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

It was downright erotic, the sight of her arousal coating the wiry curls at the base of him driving him insane. She was so fucking wet for him. The knowledge that he was making her feel this good made his head spin. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He needed to show her how deeply this was affecting him, to make her understand the intensity of the way she made him feel.

Everyone knew Spencer liked to run his mouth. It wasn't a surprise that this remained true during sex. What surprised Y/N, however, was how absolutely filthy of a mouth the man had. Spencer, the same Spencer who had barely uttered a curse in all the years she'd known him, was now stringing together words that would make even the most foul-mouthed person blush.

His pace increased with each word he murmured, small "ah, ah, ah's" spilling from her lips as he began to really pound into her.

"Does that feel good? Huh? Finally being taken care of the way you deserve?"

"Fuck— look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well. Do you like that? You like feeling me stretch you open?"

"Such a perfect pussy, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. So tight. My beautiful girl."

Every vulgar word he breathed into the space between them had her mind reeling, her body teetering on the edge of release as her walls fluttered around him. Desperate moans began to spill from her as she took everything he had to offer, her teeth digging into her lower lip to try to stifle the noises in an attempt not to wake everyone on that floor of the hotel. Spencer's gaze was locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as his brows pinched together and his mouth hung open.

"S-Spence— I'm so close—" Y/N whimpered, burying her face into the pillow beneath her as she moaned helplessly.

He dragged one of his hands away from where it was squeezing her hip, shoving it between her hips and the pillow propping her up as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "Let go, sweet girl. Cum around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

She cried out at that, thrashing underneath him as the tension coiling in her lower belly finally snapped. Spencer's hips stuttered, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat as she squeezed around him, her legs trembling as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced washed over her in waves.

"God— fuck, I'm about to cum," Spencer grunted, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with exertion as he fucked her through it. "Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

"Wanna taste you... Spence, please—" Y/N slurred beneath him, weakly pushing up on her elbows to turn and look at him over her shoulder. Her bottom lip was swollen and lightly bruised from how hard she'd been biting at it, and her eyes were watery with unshed tears as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

The sight of her looking so ruined almost had him spilling inside of her, and with a muffled curse he pulled out of her, fisting his cock as she rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out patiently. He shuffled up her body, bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he gazed down at her reverently. The amusement he felt from the brief feeling of deja vu from having her in a similar position earlier that night was short-lived as his head tipped back, a strained whimper filling the air as her tongue brushed against the head of his cock.

It only took a few pumps for him to cum, his eyes rolling back into his head when she sat up to take him further into her mouth as rope after rope of his essence flooded her throat. Y/N sucked gently, working him through his orgasm until his hips were jerking and he was whining, pulling off of his softening cock with a slick 'pop'. He crumpled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath.

Spencer wrapped her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against the top of her head with soft, repeated kisses. Between each tender touch, he murmured how incredible she made him feel, how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to share this life with her, let alone love her the way he did. Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but full of conviction, telling him how deeply she cherished him and how every part of her was filled with love for him.

Her fingers idly traced patterns across the flushed skin of his chest until he caught her hand, pressing tender kisses to her knuckles before quietly slipping out of bed. She groaned petulantly as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her towards the bathroom with a pat to her butt and a mumbled but passionate lecture on the timeframe after sex in which she needed to pee to avoid getting a UTI. Even though she knew he was right, she still rolled her eyes as she trudged into the bathroom. She decided to brush her teeth while she was there as well, giggling to herself at the thought of kissing Spencer with the taste of him still in her mouth.

When she stepped out, Spencer had changed the sheets and set a bottle of water on the nightstand, flashing a drowsy grin as she slipped into bed next to him and turned the lamp out. "What's all this about?" she teased, her smile breaking into a yawn.

"I'm taking care of you, just like I said I would."

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in, both of them murmuring good nights between soft kisses. As they drifted off together, Y/N felt certain he would be taking care of her for the rest of his life—and she was just as sure that she would do the same for him.

Continued A/N's: Happy (late) start to December!! I really hope you guys enjoy this :') I plan on doing a little something (maybe, possibly ;) ) for Christmas, so stay tuned for updates on what that little something may be. Also, a loving reminder that my requests are open! :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[freshl6ve]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓. 𝐒 | 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄

⭑.ᐟ : “��/𝐍!” 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭’𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, and I could hear the frustration in his tone. “I need your help in here, and I need it now.”

I walked up the stairs, heading towards the bathroom and I was met with the sight of Matt, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with Nick and Chris trying to apply the black eye paint.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of them struggling, and I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms.“Having some trouble there?”

Matt glanced my way, a mixture of relief and annoyance on his face. “You have no idea,” he grumbled. “These idiots can’t seem to get this right to save their lives.”

Nick shot Matt an offended look, while Chris just rolled his eyes. “Hey, we’re doing our best, okay?” Nick retorted. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

I chuckled at their bickering and stepped forward, saying, “Okay, you two, wash your hands. I’ll take it from here.” Nick and Chris reluctantly complied, washing their hands in the sink while I moved towards Matt, studying his face.

As I hovered over him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I couldn’t help but tease him. “You need to give them a little credit. They weren’t that bad.” He shot me a sidelong glare, clearly not amused. “Yeah, right. They made me look like I got into a fight with a raccoon.”

I stifled a laugh, trying to maintain a serious expression. “Well, at least now we know that raccoon makeup isn’t your look. Stick to Batman.” He grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Just get on with it, will you?”

I chuckled again and began to apply the eye makeup, carefully coating his lids with the black paint. As I worked, we fell into a comfortable silence, my fingers gently tracing his face. Our proximity was electric, the bathroom suddenly feeling smaller and more intimate.

I could feel his gaze on me, studying me as I focused on my task. Time seemed to slow as I finished the first eye and moved on to the second. Every touch of my fingers against his skin sent a jolt through me, the atmosphere thick with undeniable tension.

My back had started to ache from leaning over for so long, and the subtle shifting was giving it away. Matt, noticing my discomfort, whispered to me. “Sit on my lap, baby, you’ve been on your feet long enough.”

My breath hitched slightly at his casual use of the pet name, but I complied, my legs straddling his lap as I continued to apply the paint. From this position, I was even closer to him, our faces almost touching. His breath was warm against my skin and sent shivers down my spine.

As I continued applying the paint, I could feel Matt’s hands slowly making their way around my waist. He gripped me firmly, holding me in place so I didn’t fall backwards. The warmth of his touch sent sparks shooting through me, and I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

I finished applying the paint and stepped back, taking a moment to admire my work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. “Nick,” I called out, “do you have a small towel you don’t use?”

Nick’s voice echoed from his room as he responded, “Yeah, there should be one in the cabinet next to the tub!” I nodded and opened up the cabinet, rummaging through it until I found a small, unused towel.

As I returned to Matt, I settled back into his lap, the towel in my hand. I began to gently rub off the excess of the black eye paint, making sure to leave a faint, lighter shade. The process was slow and intimate, our faces close together once again.

“There all done,” I breathed, getting off his lap and gesturing for him to look in the mirror.

He stood up and moved to the mirror, studying his reflection. The black paint around his eyes accentuated the sharp angles of his face, making him look every bit the dark and mysterious Batman. He turned to me, a satisfied grin on his face.

He stepped towards me, his arms encircling my waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down my spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a slow, passionate kiss.

The world around us faded away as he deepened the kiss, his hands pulling me even closer to him. The tenderness behind the kiss left me breathless and weak at the knees.

Just as I was completely lost in the kiss, the moment was interrupted by the sound of Nick’s voice. “Alright, get a room,” he teased, standing in the doorway. Matt pulled away, a mischievous grin on his face, still holding me close to him.

Nick stepped closer to take a better look at Matt, studying the final product. “You did an amazing job, Y/N,” he admitted, a hint of surprise in his voice.

I smiled at the compliment, feeling a sense of pride in my work. “Thanks,” I replied. “I’m just glad it turned out alright.”

Just as the conversation died down, Chris burst into the room. “The party is almost about to start, we should all get going!” he exclaimed, a sense of urgency in his voice.

We all shared a collective groan at the interruption, the moment of peace shattered by Chris’s announcement. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Matt muttering, reluctantly releasing me from his arms.

As we all made our way downstairs and through the hallway, Matt veered off to his room, retrieving his car keys from his bedside dresser. He then caught up with the rest of us in the garage, where we filed into his car in a chaotic and haphazard manner.

Matt climbed into the driver’s seat, and I scooted into the passenger seat beside him. The other two filed into the back, jostling and laughing with one another as they buckled their seatbelts.

Matt flicked a button on the visor and the garage door slowly creaked open, revealing the night. He reversed out of the garage and pulled away, the engine purring. I leaned back in my seat, the streetlights flashing through the windows as we made our way to the house where the party was being hosted.

The car came to a stop at a red light, and Matt took the opportunity to glance over at me. His hand found its way to my thigh, resting there in a possessive yet tender gesture. The touch sent a rush of heat through me, my heart skipping a beat.

Matt returned his gaze to the road, his expression a picture of nonchalance. His hand, however, remained on my thigh, his fingers tracing small, lazy circles on my skin, as if he was completely unaware of the effect his touch was having on me.

I could feel myself growing flushed, the warmth of his hand on my thigh sending tingles through my body. As the light turned green and we resumed driving, I wondered if he was intentionally trying to get a reaction out of me, or if he was truly oblivious to the way his touch was affecting me.

We pulled up in front of the house, the sound of music and laughter pouring out of the open windows. The parking lot was already filled with a few cars, a sign that we weren’t the only ones who were fashionably late. I unbuckled my seatbelt and gave one last glance at Matt, who removed his hand from my thigh and gave me a sly smirk.

We all exited the car, the cool night air a welcome relief after being cramped in the vehicle. As we made our way to the front door, Matt reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers together. His grip was firm and confident, and I found myself feeling a sense of comfort from his gentle touch.

Together, we followed the others into the party, the noise and energy of the room washing over us. The house was packed to the brim with people dressed in all sorts of elaborate costumes, the scent of cheap cologne and alcohol hanging in the air.

We wandered through the crowded room, and several people stopped us to compliment our matching costumes. Matt, in his Batman costume, and I, dressed as Catwoman, drew plenty of stares and admiring glances.

Throughout the entire night, I had been by Matt's side at all times. He wasn't one for parties; he much preferred the comfort of his own home and his own company. But tonight, he was putting up with the loud music and the rowdy atmosphere because he wanted to be with me.

Every time someone attempted to pull him away to chat or join a game, he would politely decline, his hand finding its way back to mine, or wrapping around my waist, as if to silently assert that his focus was on me and no one else.

I stood quietly next to Matt who was currently engaged in conversation with Chris, Nick, and a few other friends. They were all clustered together, laughing and joking. His hand held mine firmly, his thumb idly tracing patterns on my skin.

I noticed that instead of alcohol like most others were drinking, Matt had opted for a red solo cup filled with soda or water. He never was one to drink at these kinds of events.

As the conversation continued, I leaned into Matt's side, listening in on the banter. His free arm instinctively wrapped around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. Occasionally, he would chime in or laugh at a joke, but for the most part, he seemed content just to have me by his side.

My head was slightly fuzzy from the couple of drinks I'd had, and the loud music and laughter around me had heightened my desire to be closer to Matt. I leaned in, my body pressing against his as I whispered into his ear. “Dance with me,” I pleaded, my words slightly slurred but laced with a seductive edge.

“Not now, baby,” Matt whispered back, his voice calm and nonchalant. He gave my waist a gentle squeeze before continuing his conversation with the others.

A pang of slight disappointment shot through me, a mixture of the alcohol in my system and my desire to be closer to him.

I positioned myself in front of Matt, my back pressed against his chest. I rocked my hips, moving my body against his, the fabric of our clothing rubbing against each other. Matt's arm instinctively found its way around my waist, his hand resting on my hip.

He continued to talk with the group as if nothing was happening, sipping casually from his cup. His expression remained calm and nonchalant, although the heat of my body against his was impossible to ignore.

I continued to move against him, each gyration of my hips a silent plea for his attention. But Matt maintained his cool composure, his conversations with the group never faltering. The tension between us was palpable, but he stubbornly refused to give any indication of it to the rest of the world.

Matt's breath hitched, and a low moan escaped him, the sound lost among the music and laughter. He leaned down, his lips close to my ear as he whispered, “Behave yourself, baby.” His voice was low and rough, a hint of warning and desire threading through it.

Despite his words, his grip on my hip tightened. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, contrasting with his outward nonchalance. The mixture of his proximity and the alcohol in my system was making it increasingly difficult to ‘behave myself’.

I turned to look up at him, my eyes roaming over his features. His dark, tousled hair, the sharp angles of his face emphasised by the eye paint, the way his baggy clothes made me want to take them off and explore what’s underneath them — all of it made him even more attractive. I leaned in close, my breath against his skin.

I pressed myself against him, my body flush against his. “Can we go home?” I whispered into his ear, my voice low and sultry. The music and the noise from the party faded into the background as I focused on the feel of his body against mine.

Matt chuckled lowly, his grip on me tightening. His voice was a low husky tone when he replied, “Can’t control yourself, can you?” He lowered his head further, his lips close to my ear. “Patience, baby. We’ll leave soon.”

Matt’s lips found the sensitive skin of my neck, trailing kisses along the column of my throat. As he did, I threaded my fingers through his hair, my touch both reverent and desperate. Our bodies swayed in rhythm with the music, the movements almost languid as we clung to each other.

Matt continued his ministrations, his lips lavishing kisses upon my neck and jaw. His free hand, the one holding the cup, gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. Each sway of our bodies brought us closer together, the air around us thick with a heady mix of desire and suppressed tension.

We were suddenly interrupted by a bright flash of light, the camera of Chris's phone capturing our intimate moment. I heard him calling out, “Get a room!”

Matt lifted his head from where it had been buried in the crook of my neck, his smirk visible even in the dim light. He gave Chris a casual salute, unperturbed by the invasion of our privacy.

I twisted in his arms, my face now facing his. I looked up into his eyes, my own pleading and earnest. “Please,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the music. “Let's go home.” My hands gripped his costume, using the fabric to pull myself up closer to him, our bodies flush against each other.

Matt gazed down at me, his eyes softening slightly at the needy expression on my face. He leaned down, his lips brushing gently against mine in a quick, affectionate peck. “Okay,” he murmured against my mouth. “We'll go.”

Matt reached down and intertwined his fingers with mine. He shot a glance at Nick and Chris, the two of them seemingly unfazed by our need to leave, their eyes already returning to their various conversations.

“We’re heading home,” Matt announced, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise. “Get an Uber or call me when you want a ride back.” With that, we began to make our way towards the front door.

Matt led the way, his firm grip on my hand guiding me through the crowd. As we navigated the sea of bodies, he pushed his way through, making sure to keep me close.

The cool air hit us as soon as we stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stifling heat and noise of the party. Matt didn’t stop, continuing to lead me to where he’d parked the car.

Matt opened the passenger door for me, ushering me into the seat before closing it behind me. He then walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in and turning the car on.

The familiar hum of the engine filled the silence, the quiet only interrupted by the soft music from the radio and the sound of his breathing. As we started heading home, the warm glow of the streetlights illuminated his features, each passing second bringing us closer to our destination.

I watched him drive, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, particularly the area around his eyes where the black paint outlined them. The way his focus was solely on the road, his hands firm on the wheel, the way his body moved as he shifted gears, was like a silent taunt, fueling the heat already building within me.

I tried to act nonchalant, keeping my hands still in my lap, but my thighs pressed together involuntarily, a silent plea that he could likely see.

I reached down, grabbing his right hand from the wheel, and pulled it up to my thigh. His eyes flicked towards me, a hint of surprise on his face. “Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I bit my lip, shifting slightly in my seat, the need building within me. “Touch me,” I pleaded, my voice low and breathy. He glanced over at me, his gaze lingering on my face. “We’re almost home,” he replied, his tone firm but laced with a hint of restraint.

I could see the internal battle playing out in his eyes, the struggle between his own desire and his determination to wait until we were home. His hand remained stationary on my thigh, but his fingers flexed slightly, a small sign of his weakening resolve.

“Please,” I repeated, my voice almost a whisper. My own self-control was slipping, and I knew that if he didn’t give me what I needed soon, I would snap. “I can’t wait that long.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. “You’ll have to,” he responded, his eyes never leaving the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

I huffed, frustrated by his unyielding stubbornness. I continued to cling to his hand, the contact grounding me but doing nothing to soothe the fire burning within.

The car ride felt like an eternity, each second passing by in agonizing slowness. I fidgeted in my seat, my thighs clenching and unclenching beneath his hand, my body silently begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve the tension that was coiling tighter with each passing mile.

Matt continued to drive, his face calm and collected, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on me. His fingers moved slightly against my thigh, the light caress just enough to tease but not satisfy.

The car pulled into the garage, the door closing behind us with a soft click. Matt switched off the ignition, the sudden quiet feeling almost deafening.

He looked over at me, the faint light of the garage illuminating the planes of his face. His eyes raked over me, taking in my state: the way my breathing was ragged, the way my body was tense, the way I was practically squirming in my seat.

Matt got out of the car first, his movements fluid as he stood up. He closed the door behind him, the thud echoing in the silent garage.

I followed suit, stumbling slightly as I got out of the passenger seat. My legs felt weak, my body thrumming with pent-up desire. I closed the door, my eyes never leaving him as he made his way around the car towards me.

Matt grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, his grip firm and urgent. As soon as we were inside he led me quickly upstairs, my feet barely touching the steps as he practically dragged me along.

Once we reached the top, he pushed me against the wall in front of the staircase, his body pinning me in place. His breath was ragged, his eyes dark with need.

The house was cloaked in shadow, the only light coming from the glow of the moon filtering in through the kitchen window. It cast a soft, silvery glow over the room, creating an intimate ambiance.

Matt pressed closer to me, his body flush against mine. His hands roamed across my skin, leaving a trail of heat and gooseflesh. “You’re so needy,” he murmured, his lips against my ear. “So desperate for my touch.”

Matt's mouth moved over my collarbone, his lips trailing a path to my ear. “You couldn’t even wait until we got home for me to touch you,” he whispered, his voice rough and low. “You were all up on me, grinding against me at the party.”

His hands gripped my waist tighter, his fingers digging into my skin. “So desperate for my attention,” he continued. “So impatient for my touch.”

His words, combined with his hands on my body, sent shivers down my spine, a heat pooling in my core. Matt's proximity was intoxicating, his body and words making it impossible to think straight.

I whimpered softly, my head tilting back against the wall, exposing my neck to him. Matt immediately latched onto the exposed skin, kissing and biting lightly. “You need it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice husky. “You need me to touch you, to take you.”

Matt's lips moved along my neck, the words low and commanding. “Will you behave if I give you what you want?” he murmured against my skin, his hands still gripping my waist tightly.

I nodded, my breath hitching as his teeth grazed my pulse point. “Yes, god, yes. I’ll behave,” I breathed, my words a desperate plea.

Matt pulled back slightly, his face close to mine. He studied my expression for a moment before murmuring, “Good,” and kissing my deeply.

His lips on mine were everything I’d been craving. The world condensed to the feeling of his mouth moving against mine, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.

Matt’s hands on my waist pulled me closer, his body pressing against me. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing against my lips, seeking entrance. I willingly obliged, our mouths moving in a familiar dance, a symphony of desire and need. My hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft locks as our bodies entwined.

As we pulled apart for a moment, Matt’s voice was low and commanding. “Jump,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to the back of my thighs, urging me up. On instinct, I obeyed, leaping up and wrapping my legs around his waist as he picked me up with ease.

He held me tightly, my body cradled against him as he turned, pinning me against the wall. His mouth returned to mine, kissing me with a renewed intensity, our bodies pressed closely together. The sound of our breathy gasps echoed through the dark house, the atmosphere charged with the need for each other.

Matt’s hands held my thighs securely, his fingers digging into my skin slightly. He held me in place, my back against the wall, as he kissed me fervently. The heat of his body against mine was almost overwhelming, every touch and movement stoking the fire within me.

With ease, Matt carried me down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound. I held onto him tightly, trusting him to guide us to his bedroom. As we reached the door, he nudged it open, carrying me inside and kicking it shut behind us.

Matt gently set me down on the bed, the darkness of the room creating an intimate ambiance. He stepped back, slowly removing his sweater and, piece by piece, shedding his clothes.

I watched as Matt removed his clothes, my hands reaching out to help him. My fingers grazed his skin, undressing him slowly, the gesture both sensual and reverent.

His eyes never left mine as I undressed him, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race. As each piece of fabric fell away, leaving him completely bare in front of me, I could feel my desire growing, my fingers lingering on his skin as though committing his form to memory.

The faint light from the moonlight filtering underneath the blinds illuminated him, his form slightly silhouetted. The shadows played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his physique. The world was fuzzy and out of focus, my eyes focused solely on him, the rest of the room a blur.

I knelt before him, my movements slow and intentional. My hands reached out, tracing over his hips and down to his thighs, my eyes never leaving his. I could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with anticipation.

My hands trembled slightly as they reached the waistband of his remaining clothing, my fingers teasing at the fabric as I prepared to remove it. My breathing was shallow, my own anticipation building with each passing second.

I felt his hand on mine, guiding it slightly, a silent indication of his permission. I took a deep breath, my heart beating wildly, and slowly started to pull down his remaining clothes, exposing him fully to me.

My eyes widened slightly as I took in the sight of him, bare and vulnerable before me. I reached out, tentatively, my fingers brushing against his soft skin. He let out a slow breath, his body relaxing under my touch.

Emboldened, I wrapped my fingers around him, feeling his warmth. He moaned softly, his hips bucking forward slightly. I looked up at him, seeking approval. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of pure pleasure.

I began to move my hand slowly, exploring the silky smoothness of his skin and the hardness beneath. His breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“That's it,” Matt encouraged, his voice low and husky. “Just like that. You're doing so well.” His hand covered mine, guiding my movements to speed up and tighten my grip. “A little harder now,”

I followed Matt’s instructions, my hand moving faster and tighter around him. He let out a loud groan, his hips jerking forward eagerly. Pre-cum dripped from the tip, making my hand slick.

“Can I…?” I asked hesitantly, looking up at him. He opened his eyes, the heat in them making me blush. “Can you what?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Can I… taste you?” I managed to stammer out, my face flushing crimson.

Matt's face softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “No need to ask, baby,” he murmured. “Whatever you want, it's yours. Come here...” He guided my head down, his hand tangling in my hair. “Open up for me...”

I parted my lips, my tongue darting out to lick away the bead of pre-cum at his tip. He shuddered, his fingers tightening in my hair. Encouraged, I took him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth as I began to suck.

Matt let out a low groan, his body tensing. “Relax your throat, baby,” he instructed, his voice strained. “You don’t have to take all of me, just follow your instincts.”

I did as he said, relaxing my throat and taking him deeper. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I swallowed around him, my nose pressing against his pelvis. He cried out, his grip on my hair tightening.

“Pull back, baby,” Matt gasped out, his voice hoarse. “Not gonna last if you keep doing that...” I pulled back, my cheeks hollowed as I sucked hard. He let out a string of curse words, his hips jerking forward. “Shit, Stop, Y/N...”

I ignored his plea, instead bobbing my head faster, my hands tightening on his thighs. I could feel his muscles tensing beneath my touch, his breath hitching in his chest. “Y/N...” he panted, his voice a warning. “I’m gonna...”

His words trailed off into a moan as he spilled into my mouth, his body convulsing. I swallowed every drop, my hands continuing to pump his shaft until he was spent. I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

I stood up slowly, my lips meeting his in a deep, passionate kiss. He tasted like salt and sweetness, and I couldn't get enough. Our tongues danced together, our hearts pounding in unison.

Matt's hands grasped my waist, slowly pushing me backwards onto the bed. I fell back with a soft gasp, my breath hitching as he hovered over me, his muscular arms braced on either side of my head. His blue eyes bored into mine, filled with unspoken promises.

His head dipped down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck. He kissed and sucked, his hands reaching for the zipper of my catwoman costume. The sound of the zipper lowering filled the room, the cool air brushing against my heated skin.

Matt slowly peeled the costume off me, his lips following the path of the fabric as he exposed more of my skin. He paused at my breasts, his mouth closing around one peak while his hand caressed the other. I arched into him, a soft moan escaping my lips.

He lavished attention on my breasts until I was writhing beneath him, my hands clutching at his hair. Then, he began to kiss his way down my torso, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my catsuit. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desire.

With a swift tug, he pulled off my bottoms, tossing them aside. I was now fully exposed to his hungry gaze. His hands caressed my thighs, pushing them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against my most intimate area. I shivered in anticipation.

Matt hooked his fingers into the hem of my underwear and slowly pulled them down, his eyes locked onto mine. As the fabric reached my knees, he leaned down and used his mouth to pull them the rest of the way off, his teeth gently scraping against my skin.

Matt looked up at me from between my thighs, his blue eyes dark with lust. He placed a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh, his hands caressing the sensitive skin. He alternated between kisses and licks, slowly working his way higher.

His hands gripped my thighs, parting them wider as his mouth finally reached my center. He kissed me there, his tongue parting my folds and delving inside. I moaned, my hips bucking against his mouth as he feasted on me.

Matt hooked his arms under my legs, lifting them over his shoulders as he continued to devour me with his mouth. I was completely open and exposed to him, my most intimate parts on full display as he ate me out. I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him close to my aching core.

His hands gripped my backside, tilting my hips to give him better access as he buried his face between my thighs. He growled against my flesh, the vibration sending shivers through my body. I could feel the pressure building inside me, my breaths coming in short gasps. “Matt...”

I was so close, my body trembling on the edge of release. Matt seemed to sense this, doubling his efforts. He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud. I shattered, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm crashed over me.

As I convulsed around him, Matt slid two fingers inside me, curling them upwards to hit that spot that made my eyes roll back. He continued to suck on my swollen bud, his fingers pumping in and out of me in a steady rhythm.

Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes as the sensations became too intense. I was so sensitive, yet I couldn't push him away. I needed more. He added a third finger, his hand moving faster as he brought me to the peak of pleasure once more.

I came with a shout, my inner muscles clenching around his fingers. He gentled his touch, slowly licking me through the aftershocks. When he finally lifted his head, his chin was glistening, and his eyes were filled with satisfaction.

He kissed my thighs, then my stomach, and finally my mouth. I could taste myself on his lips, salty and sweet. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down onto me. “I need you inside,” I whispered against his ear.

Matt chuckled low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “Since you behaved so well, I think you deserve a reward.” He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance.

Matt sat up, his thighs straddling my hips. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along my slit, coating himself in my wetness. The sensation made me gasp, my hips lifting off the bed seeking more. He teased me, denying me the full penetration I craved.

“Not yet,” Matt murmured, his hand pressing down on my abdomen to keep my hips still. He continued to rub against me, his hot, hard flesh parting my swollen folds but never quite pushing inside. I squirmed beneath him, my breathing growing faster and shallower. “Please...”

“Please what?” Matt taunted, his voice low and seductive. He knew exactly what I wanted, how much I needed him to fill me, to move inside me. “Say it,” he demanded, his hand tightening on my stomach.

I was panting now, my body trembling with need. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. “Please, Matt. I need you to fuck me. Fill me up.” I spread my legs wider in invitation, my wet heat aching to be claimed.

Matt’s expression grew intense, his jaw clenching as he finally lined himself up and slowly pushed inside. He watched my face as he inched forward, his thick length stretching me wide. I bit my lip, my hands gripping the sheets as he buried himself to the hilt.

He started to move then, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. I cried out at the sudden intensity, my back arching off the bed. He set a hard, fast pace, the wet sounds of our coupling filling the room.

Our bodies slapped together, the sound of our moans and ragged breaths mingling. His large hands gripped my hips, tilting me to change the angle. He hit that spot deep inside me, making me see stars. “Oh god, Matt!” I cried out.

“That's it, baby,” Matt rasped, his voice thick with passion. “Squeeze my hard cock with your inner muscles like a good girl.” His words spurred me on, and I felt the familiar pressure building once more. “Matt...it’s...too much...”

“Too much what, baby?” he asked, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Too much pleasure? Too much love? Too much of me inside you?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Tell me what’s too much, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Too much...love,” I whimpered, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure washed over me. He groaned deeply, his movements becoming harder and more urgent. “And you’ll take more, won’t you, baby?” He growled, his fingers digging into my flesh.

I could only nod, my words lost to the sensations overwhelming my body. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward as he increased his pace. The room filled with the sound of our harsh breaths and the wet slap of flesh against flesh.

Matt’s mouth found my neck, his teeth scraping against my pulse point. He sucked hard, leaving a dark mark on my skin as he claimed me. His lips trailed up to my collarbones, placing open-mouthed kisses along the delicate bones before latching onto the soft skin and sucking.

He marked me as his, leaving a trail of love bites across my chest. He sucked on my nipples, biting down gently before moving to the space between my breasts. He kissed and nipped at the soft flesh, leaving a pattern of bites that only he could decipher.

I moaned and writhed beneath him, the slight pain only heightening my pleasure. “You’re mine,” he growled against my skin. “Every inch of you belongs to me.” He pushed himself up, his hands gripping my thighs and draping them over his shoulders.

He leaned down, his face mere inches from mine. His eyes were dark with lust and something deeper, more intense. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. “Tell me who you belong to.” His hips rolled forward, grinding against my sweet spot.

“I’m yours,” I gasped. “All yours, Matt. Oh god, Matt!” His thrusts became deeper, his pace punishing. Our bodies slapped together, the sound of our moans filling the room.

Matt's grip tightened on my thighs, pulling them further apart and draping them over his shoulders. He leaned forward, his body folding over mine as he increased his pace. He buried his face in my neck, his hot breath against my skin as he moaned loudly.

I turned my head, seeking his mouth. Our lips met in a desperate, hungry kiss, our tongues tangling as we moaned into each other's mouths. He thrust deep and fast, his hips pistoning forward in a frantic rhythm.

Matt pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting our mouths. His eyes were wild with lust as he looked down at me, his chest heaving. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips never stopping their relentless motion.

I looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, my gaze taking in the changes to his face. His dark hair was damp with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. The black eye paint he’d worn was smudged.

The dark lines ran down his cheeks like tears, giving him a wild, untamed appearance. His jaw was clenched, the muscles bunching and releasing with each powerful thrust.

“Oh god, Matt! Oh god!” I cried out, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure crashed over me. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I chanted, my head thrashing from side to side on the pillow as he pounded into me.

Matt's hands flew to the bed beside my head, his fingers curling into the sheets as he propped himself up. He began to thrust faster and harder, his hips jackhammering between my thighs. “Cum for me, baby,” he grunted, his jaw clenched.

He leaned forward, his head fitting perfectly between my neck and shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his back, holding on for dear life as he fucked me with reckless abandon. The bed creaked and groaned beneath their combined weight, the slapping of their skin echoing through the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Matt bellowed, his voice raw and husky. “Take it, baby! Take my fucking cock!” I screamed in response, my voice hoarse from all the loud moaning. “YES! YES! FUCK ME HARDER, MATT!”

Matt’s hand left the bed, moving to press down on my stomach. He pushed me into the mattress as he continued his relentless pace, his other hand still propping himself up. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside me. “Oh god, right there!”

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” Matt growled, his hips slamming forward. “Wanted my cock so bad that you had us leave Chris and Nick behind. Couldn't even behave and control yourself.” He punctuated his words with particularly hard thrusts. “And here we are.”I whimpered, my hands clutching at his back as I tried to hold back. "P-Please, Matt...It's too...It's too intense..."He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "You can take it, baby."

“You better take it all now, like you were asking for it,” he continued, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Make you scream my name.” His hand on my stomach pressed down harder, forcing me to arch into his thrusts.

His words, combined with the new angle and his powerful movements, pushed me closer and closer to the edge. “Matt...Matt, it’s too much...I can’t...I’m gonna...” My words dissolved into incoherent babbling as he continued to pound into me.

“Hold it,” Matt grunted. “Hold it until I say you can let go.” His pace increased, his hips a blur as he pistoned in and out of me. “You’ll cum when I say you can, understand?”

I whimpered, my hands clutching at his back as I tried to hold back. “Please, Matt...It’ too...It’s too intense...” He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “You can take it, baby.”

His words gave me strength, and I clenched my teeth, determined to hold back despite the overwhelming sensation. My body shook with the effort, my nails digging into his back. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and approving.

He continued to fuck me at a frantic pace, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot over and over. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my core. I was so close, but I held back, refusing to let go until he gave the okay.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Matt paused, his hips frozen mid-thrust. He held me in place, his cock buried deep inside me. “Now,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. Matt didn't hold back, fucking me through my climax with relentless force. His own release followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me as he filled me with his hot seed.

“Fuck, yes!” Matt groaned, his hips jerking as he came. I moaned long and loud, my inner walls fluttering around his shaft, milking every last drop. Our combined moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure as we rode out our intense orgasms together.

As the last tremors of his release subsided, Matt collapsed forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing me. He buried his face against my neck, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Wow.” His voice was a mere whisper against my skin.

I could only whimper in response, my body still quaking with aftershocks. Matt pressed soft kisses along my neck and jaw as we lay there, basking in the afterglow. “That was incredible,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of me.

Matt carefully extracted himself from me and got off the bed. I heard the faucet run in the bathroom, and a moment later, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. He gently cleaned me up, his touch tender and caring. “You okay, baby?”

I nodded, a soft smile on my face as I looked up at him. “Mmhmm. That was... intense.” I stretched languidly, feeling deliciously used in the best possible way. Matt chuckled, tossing the rag into his laundry basket and crawling back into bed with me.

Matt pulled the sheets over us, tucking me against his side. “Well, it's what you wanted,” he said, a playful edge to his voice. “And I gave it to you.” He nuzzled my hair, his arms wrapped protectively around me.

I groaned, “I’m going to have such a big headache and hangover in the morning.” Matt kissed the top of my head. “I’ll get you some hangover pills and water later, just rest for now.”

I felt the comforting warmth of Matt's body behind me, his chest against my back. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, inhaling the familiar scent of my hair. As I closed my eyes, the exhaustion and alcohol finally claiming me, the sound of his steady breath lulled me into a deep slumber.

I woke up to the sound of rustling and the closet opening. I turned around, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and found Matt shuffling through the hangers, searching for a top. He was already dressed in sweatpants, his hair mussed from sleep, and his muscular back was on full display.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, shifting slightly in the bed as I watched Matt rummage through his closet. “Where are you going?” I asked, my voice raspy from sleep, my words a sleepy murmur.

Matt paused, grabbing a red crewneck and pulling it over himself. “Chris called, said him and Nick need to be picked up,” he replied, his tone casual. He continued rummaging for a second, his gaze focused on the closet as if he was looking for something else.

Meanwhile, I snuggled deeper into the blankets, still drowsy from sleep. “What time is it?” I asked, stifling a tired yawn, my body half hidden beneath the covers.

He closed his closet door and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. His voice was low and calm. “It's two in the morning,” he responded. He put his phone back into his pocket and started his search for his keys. He finally found his keys hidden underneath a pile of clothes and pocketed them.

As he moved around, I noticed the change and looked him up and down, my drowsy eyes picking up on the details. His hair was damp, the smell of shampoo lingering in the air, and his black eye paint, a telltale sign of his costume from the party, was completely gone, revealing his natural, chiselled features beneath.

“You showered,” I murmured, still half asleep, the observation slipping out despite the tiredness. Matt turned to face me, his hair tousled, his face devoid of the makeup. I saw the slight amusement in his eyes, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

Matt nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he responded, “Yeah, the black eye paint was getting annoying and sticky.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back. “Had to wash it off,” he added.

He walked over to the bed, leaning against the frame as he looked down at me, his form silhouetted against the light. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he said quietly. His words were a soft whisper, his concern evident despite the nonchalance.

“Will you be back?” I murmured, my words slurred from the remnants of sleepiness. I couldn’t help but feel a hint of worry, wondering if he'd return to the warmth of the bed next to me.

Matt gave a reassuring nod, his voice gentle. “Of course I will, just have to go get Chris and Nick,” he murmured, his tone comforting. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

I felt a small smile tug at my lips, comforted by his words and his gentle touch. “Be safe,” I drowsy murmured, my eyes already closing again, tiredness weighing on my eyelids.

Matt leaned down and planted a soft peck on my lips, his lips lingering for a brief moment. “I will,” he whispered, his voice a soothing promise.

I opened my eyes slightly, my voice slightly pleading but drowsy. “Before you leave can you start the shower for me?” I murmured, my words slurred with sleep.

Matt's expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. He asked, a hint of worry in his voice, “Are you sure? You won’t fall or anything while I’m gone, will you?” It was clear he was concerned for my state, even if I was only half asleep and slightly out of it.

I nodded, a sleepy smile on my lips, my eyes still half-open as I reassured him, “I won’t fall. Just start it for me, please.” My voice was soft and drowsy, the promise of a warm shower before he returned sounding too nice to pass up, even in my tired state.

Matt gave a small sigh, his expression momentarily softening at the sight of my drowsy state. He nodded, his voice gentle. “All right, just let the water heat up and you know where the towel is. Careful, okay? I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly, his words a whispered promise, his hand brushing against my cheek.

With that, he pushed back from the bed, pausing for a moment to watch me as he walked out of the room and into the hallway. The faint sound of water turning on could be heard as the shower warmed up for me, and then the garage door closed, signaling Matt leaving to go get Chris and Nick.

After finishing, I threw on one of Matt's hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, feeling comforted by his familiar scent. I made my way back to the bedroom and crawled back into bed, the comforting familiarity of our shared space soothing.

As I lay there, waiting for Matt, I felt the bed dip slightly beside me, the mattress shifting under the added weight. Warm breath caressed my neck, the faint hints of the night air on his sweatshirt-clad body. His arms wrapped around me as he settled in behind me, his body slotting against my back like it belonged there.

I felt the warmth of his body press against me, comforting and familiar in its presence. He held me closer, his arms securely wrapped around my waist, his nose nuzzling against my neck. His breath was steady and I could sense him letting out a soft sigh, relieved to be back.

Matt whispered playfully against my neck, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Stealing my hoodie, I see,” he murmured, his tone light and teasing. His arm tightened around me, a gentle squeeze that communicated his subtle approval.

“Guilty as charged,” I murmured in response, my voice drowsy but playful in tone. My hands found his, interlacing our fingers as I nestled against him, finding comfort in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

I shifted, turning around to face him, my body nestling closer against his. I grabbed his arm, pulling it over me, draping it like a comforting blanket. My head rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart in the quiet room.

He adjusted slightly, pulling me even closer, his arm wrapping around my waist protectively. He kissed the top of my head, holding me in a gentle yet firm embrace, the gesture both possessive and comforting. His fingers traced slow circles on my back, the soft touch an unspoken form of reassurance and affection.

A/N: HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEN!! — FOR @st6rify ❤︎︎

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[foolinafable]

family matters

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: You and Five return after seven years away in a different timeline- but you don’t return alone Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fluff, No Lila and Five, Pregnancy, Children, Season 4 fix it (kinda) Note: Got so much love on the last one I wrote this! Try to ignore spelling mistakes it's currently 3am.

Stuck with only your irritable CIA colleague Five Hargreeves was anything but a good time. You both got lost at the godforsaken subway station he mistakenly teleported you both to. Travelling for a year by his side certainly mellowed you out. His personality slowly making you feel comforted as you both explored multiple timelines together trying to find your way home.

Surprisingly, the idea he possessed powers was the easiest thing for you to come to terms with, probably due to your job at the CIA making it seem plausible to you that the government does hide a lot- they’re even hiding the whole science of separate timelines.  After around a year of trying and failing to find your way home, you and Five decided to ease off the vigorous schedule you unwittingly created, finding a timeline safe enough to stay in for a while allowing you both to rest and brainstorm ideas of how you could both find a way home to your families. 

You both made a mistake. Falling to know how long a while would be you find yourselves still in the timeline you chose as your ‘temporary’ home six years later. Finding each other a lot less frustrating than at the start of this. You suppose that’s an understatement as you watched Five play with your child, a girl who possessed brown hair and green eyes not too dissimilar to her father’s. It almost wasn’t fair how much her features favoured his. But, seeing his beauty reflected upon her features could never be something you would complain about. 

“Maybe if we get lucky the next one will resemble you more,” you remember his words from a few days earlier when you started to show a hand placed under your abdomen smiling as if this was the greatest gift he could ever receive. But you don’t think it would matter if this one ended up looking like their older sibling and their father. If anything you would prefer it- not that you would ever admit it.

Picking another fresh strawberry from the greenhouse of the abandoned home you now called your own. You placed it into the basket plans to make jam and jelly already filling your mind when you felt yourself begin to flush from the sweltering heat of the sun beating down upon the glass. Your skin heating up to a point of large discomfort, sweat beginning to gather at your temples. You sighed knowing that you couldn't continue to harvest anything else unless you wanted to face Five’s rath over you overheating again. 

“Mom!” Maxine ran towards you eagerly hands encircling your legs as she got close enough for a welcoming hug. She quickly looked up towards you big green eyes staring at you prettily 

“Hiya munchkin” You stroked the top of her hair as she smiled up at you with glee

“What doing?” the three-year-old questioned head titling as she waited for your response 

“Strawberries” was all you replied grabbing the basket to show her 

“Have one?” she asked pointing at the basket, batting her eyes to try to sway your decision. You simply plucked one out of the basket and gave it to her relishing in the delighted smile she sent your way before biting into the sweet fruit. You smiled at her before looking up to meet the other pair of green eyes that had made their way into the greenhouse. Five watched the interaction of his favourite girls softly only moving closer once you looked at him.

“Everything alright mumma?” he questioned noticing your flustered expression from the moment he and Maxine stepped foot in the conservatory

“A bit hot” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders as he drew closer, trapping Maxine in between the two of you as the back of his hand touched your forehead he hummed in agreement with your words

“Let’s get you inside the house, don’t need you getting heatstroke” You forced down the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics and simply nodded in agreement

“Some cold water and a sit down would be nice.”

He grabbed one of your hands and Maxine’s with the other leading you both back towards the house. After placing the basket of strawberries in the kitchen you quickly sat down on the couch feeling a slight ache in your feet while Five grabbed you a glass of water with more icecubes than you could even count, you smiled in thanks as he passed it to you while Maxine sat next to you, a small children book in hands that she was determined to read to you and her younger sibling as she wanted them to be just as smart as her. 

You could hear Five pattering around the house, tidying up before you could even think about it. Maxine had quickly given up on trying to read, getting bored after two pages and was instead sitting playing with some wooden blocks by your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows when you couldn’t hear Five moving around anymore a stark silence surrounding you now.

“Everything alright?” you shouted trying to figure out where he had gotten to, heart fluttering when there was no reply. Setting your glass down on the table in front of you as you rose from your rather comfortable spot on the couch, you walked into the other room where your lover was his body was stick straight, eyes not daring to leave the notebook in his hand. “What?” you questioned softly walking towards him, eyeing the words on the book as you got close enough.

“This” he began astounded “Is our way home, it’s written by me but I didn’t write this. Another me did.” you simply nodded before smiling  

“Looks like we’re going home.”

── ✧

You and Five found yourselves outside of what he assured you was his brother Diego’s house. Maxine who was resting her head on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his middle looked astounded by the snow while nerves filled you- the last time you saw any of his family was when you were put on the case that got you lost in the timelines to begin with and even then you barely saw his brothers and sister-in-law as they were quickly taken to hq for a show round to get them out of the way. You didn’t even want to think how you would explain this to them let alone to your own family but you guess this is the easier of the two as they all had powers and also been to multiple different timelines. Five set Maxine down next to you as he rapped on the door you quickly grabbed her hand before she could run off into the snow when the door opened 

“You back!” the man, Diego you assumed, smiled as he looked at Five 

“I am” he stared at his brother almost in shock that he had seen him for the first time for him in seven years

“Good” the man confirmed “We were all starting to get worried.” his eyes then turned towards you and the brunette-haired little girl who was trying to hide behind you “And you are?” he questioned and you quickly gave him your name his eyes sparking in recognition for some reason as he crouched to the ground to greet your daughter “And who is this little princess?” he asked quietly as Maxine started at him 

“This is Maxine” is all you said feeling Five’s eyes on you knowing he wanted to wait until you got inside to drop the bomb you could see Diego begin to connect the dots as he introduced himself to you but he was clearly confused because he would know if Five had a child in the last three years in this timeline at least.

“I will explain everything once we get inside- can’t let the missus get cold” is all he said to Diego as the man allowed you into his home. 

He quickly led you to the living room where to sat on the sofa, Maxine being picked up by Five and placed on his lap when she tried to climb onto yours, you turned towards him to complain but quickly stopped when you met his glower instead choosing to put a comforting hand on your tummy a habit you kept from your first pregnancy. Diego called for his wife Lila to come to sit with him when the door opened revealing more of Five’s family he whispered their names to you as they walked in all choosing to sit down when Diego told them that Five was going to explain where he’s been and why his colleague, a word you hadn’t been referred to as in a long time, was here. With most of his family here excluding Ben and Viktor, he cleared his throat to get their attention

“As you all know the marigold has made our powers a little different to what we are used to” They all made sounds of agreement “My blinking takes only to a tube station where each stop is a new timeline and we” gesturing to you “got stuck, unable to find our way back until now. We were away for seven years but for you has only been a few hours” he took their silence as a sign to continue “This is my wife” he spoke your name “And our daughter Maxine.” you sat in silence for a moment.

“Wait! This is the colleague he was always telling us about?” Luther asked excitedly you turned to the larger man confused when Klaus and Allison quickly agreed with him

“I thought he was joking when he said there was a cute girl who he worked cases with” Claire, Alison’s daughter, announced making her mother and uncles laugh

“I can’t believe you have a child” Lila spoke eyes wide

“Well he is going to have another one in a couple of months,” you told the already shocked woman who quickly smiled at the revelation while the others called out congratulations to their brother 

“How far along are you?” Allison asked as she came up to you silently questioning if she could touch the small bump you simply nodded “We think around thirteen weeks” looking to Five who simply nodded

“She only started showing a few days ago”

“I can’t believe it” Luther called out while pulling funny faces making Maxine laugh as she got a little less shy around her family.

You smiled as you watched Maxine get up and walk towards Lilas’ children playing with them as Five’s hand found its way to yours stroking your knuckles. You never thought you could ever get home let alone come back home happier than you had left it. You suppose a thanks was due to your rather irritable husband and his wacky powers.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)