#and i thought all these things before but

[bpmiranda]

hey could I request lumberjack Logan being known as all emo and solitaire at work but one day his gf shows up because he forgot lunch?

My Girl (Logan Howlett)

A/N: fluffy, lumberjack!logan, bubbly!gf, 20+ f!reader, grumpy!logan, suggestive content

When Logan spent most of the day chopping wood and hauling tree trunks, he wasn’t exactly in a chatting mood so the men he worked with didn’t really know much about him. Logan put in the long hours and he’d go home, he wouldn’t ever go to the bar with them, wouldn’t join in on the work gossip. His coworkers only knew two things about him; his name and what car he drove. Sometimes he would be dropped off and they only ever saw the silhouette of whom they could assume was a woman, but Logan never had her get out of the car.

“Who’re you hiding from us, Logan?” They would tease and he’d only smirk to himself, shaking his head as he continued his tasks.

You weren’t a secret, he wasn’t trying to hide you. Logan wanted to keep you safe, to protect you, and above all, keep you to himself. Some of the men didn’t know how to control themselves around pretty women and Logan believed you were the prettiest thing to grace the Earth. He knew he wouldn’t be able stand their ogling eyes on you, their cheap sweet talk making you uncomfortable, so he’d kiss you and tell you he loved you before getting out, he’d tell you to sit in the car as he grabbed his tools, and give you a sly wink as you backed out to head home.

It wasn’t your intention to drive up there without his knowledge, but he had forgotten his lunch and you couldn’t stand the thought of him working those long shifts without something to eat. As you scanned the yard for him among the others who were already taking their lunch break, one of them began to approach you with a small smirk, his eyes roaming over the backside of your jeans. When you spotted Logan, he was already sauntering towards you, the ax resting over his shoulder as you happily bounded over to him, unaware of the man now cowering below Logan’s sharp gaze behind you. “Don’t be mad. You forgot your lunch.” You say against his lips as he brings you into his side with an arm around your waist. You press a hand into his chest and hold tightly onto his lunchbox behind his back as he kisses you with such fervor it makes you dizzy.

It’s his fault he forgot it, left it sitting there on the counter on which he also had you sitting with his head between your thighs. It had been a rushed morning, but if he was going to choose whether to spend what extra time he did have packing his lunch or pleasuring you, he would choose the latter again. “Couldn’t ever be mad at you, baby.” He whispers against your lips, holding you so possessively you feel slightly out of breath. “You should go home now,” He urges and he feels your lips turn into a frown against his mouth which makes him chuckle. “Or would you like to stay with me during lunch?” He asks and you nod. “Just this once.”

The other men in the lumberyard understand why he’s always racing to get home. They understand why there’s no space in his life for work buddies or late night drinks at the bar. Logan’s in love. They see it in the way you two seem to be in your own little world as you sit on the hood of the car, yapping his ear off about the errands you’re going to run and the dinner you’re going to cook while he leans against the hood beside you, eating and listening with a content look in his face. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble, princess.” He tells you as he’s packing up his lunchbox.

“Well then, what will we have for dinner?” You tease as he moves to stand in front of you, leaning into you so he can kiss you softly, his hands firmly planted on the hood as you caress his bearded jaw.

“I was hoping for a dessert first type of evening.” He whispers, making your face grow warm as he mumbles into your neck, “Let me take you out for dinner.”

The idea of a night out so you can have a relaxing night in is quite appealing and you hum as his lips move to your collarbone. “What should I do until you get home then?” You ask, sighing as he bites your earlobe gently.

“Wait for me in bed.” He whispers, one of his hands smoothed down your back and he pulls you into him, pressing your chest into his own. “You don’t have to do anything else for me today, sweetheart.”

Logan was secluded, he wasn’t big on having drinking buddies, and there wasn’t much that he wanted in terms of things. With you, however, Logan was kind and doting and all he wanted was to keep you happy and satisfied, you were all that mattered. You were his little piece of heaven on Earth and he wasn’t going to allow anything to soil what you two shared, not in this lifetime.

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[retiredteabag]

winter weight (nanami ver)

Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.

based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.

For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.

You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.

This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.

You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.

He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,

"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"

Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.

You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.

Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.

Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.

When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.

You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,

"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"

"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."

A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.

In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.

"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."

"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.

"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.

"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.

"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.

"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.

"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."

He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."

"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."

He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."

You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.

That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.

In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Forever & Always

Summary: At 28-years-old Spencer Reid finally has his first girlfriend, you. You are bold, confident, and experienced, everything he's not, and he feels very insecure because of it. You own your own nightclub, and when Sean Hotchner needs a job, you let him come and work for you. Spencer can't handle this attractive womanizer being in your space all day long. Will the two of you make it through this?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, virgin Spencer, insecurities, not trusting partner, arguing, threatening people, therapy

Word count: 22.3k

a/n: Sean Hotchner is a treat for the eyes ,, but no one will ever be better than Spencer -- genuinely one of my favorite fics !!

main masterlist

Additional warnings: grinding, finishing in pants (m), light breast play, handjob

Spencer had always been confident in his knowledge, his intelligence a constant source of reassurance in his life. But this—this was different. Sitting across from you in the dimly lit coffee shop, his eyes flickered nervously to the table, then back to you. You were animated, telling a story about your friends, your laugh bright and infectious, but Spencer found it hard to focus. His mind kept drifting back to that quiet, gnawing feeling that had been lurking for a while now. 

You were his first real girlfriend. At 28, Spencer Reid had never been in a serious relationship, at least not one that had progressed beyond awkward dates or brief romantic entanglements that always seemed to fizzle out before they even began. But you were different. You were confident, experienced in ways he wasn’t. It wasn’t just about the relationship itself. It was everything. You had dated other people before him, had your fair share of relationships and even casual hook-ups. The weight of it pressed down on him like an invisible burden, one he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Spencer forced a smile, willing the tension in his chest to settle as you finished your story, your words floating through the air like a melody. He didn’t want to let on that something was bothering him, not when he saw how happy you looked. He couldn’t be the one to disrupt that joy. 

“Spence?” Your voice softened as you noticed the subtle shift in his expression, the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long, as if he was lost in thought. “You okay?”

He blinked, his face instantly smoothing into a look of reassurance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied quickly, his voice a bit too light. “I was just really... engaged in what you were saying. You always tell such great stories.”

Your smile brightened, the warmth of his words making you feel lighter, like you were walking on air. You chuckled, your fingers playing with the rim of your coffee cup as you gazed at him. “You smooth talker.”

Spencer returned your smile, but beneath it, a twinge of doubt lingered. He didn’t want you to think there was anything wrong—didn’t want to give away the insecurity gnawing at him. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling unsure about something. But the thought of appearing inferior to you, of not being enough, was something he couldn’t shake.

You, on the other hand, were oblivious to the internal struggle he was masking. You were just happy—so incredibly happy. In all your past relationships, there had been a constant feeling of walking on eggshells, of waiting for things to fall apart. But with Spencer, it was different. He was different. His kindness, his gentle heart, his brilliant mind—it was everything you hadn’t even realized you were searching for.

Spencer was the best person you had ever dated. And it scared you, deeply. The fear of messing things up gnawed at the back of your mind constantly. What if this ended the same way your past relationships had? What if this incredible thing you had with Spencer was fleeting, destined to crumble just like all the others?

But you didn’t want to think about that now. Not when you were sitting here with him, sharing moments that felt real, that felt good. You let out a breath, pushing away the nagging thoughts. Spencer made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

You caught his gaze again, your eyes softening as you took him in. “You know,” you started, leaning in a little closer, “I feel so lucky to have met you, Spencer. You’re... you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever been with.”

Spencer's heart ached at your words, a bittersweet pang that settled deep in his chest. You said it with such sincerity, such affection, but all he could hear were the things that made him different in a way he didn’t want to be. Of course, he was unlike anyone else you’d been with. How could he compare to the others? He was awkward, inexperienced, and—by his own assessment—weird. The guy who overthought everything, who could recite obscure facts but had no idea how to casually flirt or initiate a kiss without rehearsing it a dozen times in his head first.

So he forced a weak smile, nodding as if your words had filled him with the same happiness they brought you. But inside, it only made him feel more out of place, like he was somehow failing at this relationship without you even knowing.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell you that being with you was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But instead, he let the moment pass, watching as your face lit up with excitement, diving into another story.

He focused on your words, or at least tried to. You had this way of captivating him, of pulling him into whatever you were talking about, but right now, it was harder to stay present. The feeling of inadequacy, of not being enough, pressed heavily on him. As you talked about past adventures, dates with friends, and experiences that felt so far removed from anything he’d ever known, Spencer couldn’t help as his fingers nervously tapped against the side of his cup, his mind wandering.

—

It was late, well past midnight, when you noticed Spencer’s quiet sigh as he shifted beside you in bed. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You had been reading, but you couldn’t focus on the book in your hands. Not when you could feel the weight of something pressing down on Spencer.

You set the book aside, turning onto your side to face him, your hand resting gently on his chest. “Spence,” you whispered softly, “what’s going on?”

His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for a long moment before he sighed again, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your arm where it draped over him. “I don’t know,” he muttered, though the heaviness in his voice said otherwise.

You waited, knowing that he would open up when he was ready. That was how these late-night conversations always started. Sometimes it took a while for Spencer to find the words to express what was on his mind, and you had learned to give him that space.

Eventually, he turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowed, eyes shadowed with the insecurities he often tried to hide. “It’s just... I keep thinking about how different we are. You’ve had all these experiences, and I... haven’t. I’m still figuring things out, and sometimes I worry... I worry that it’s not enough for you. That I’m not enough.”

Your heart ached for him, the depth of his vulnerability cutting through the quiet of the night. You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. “Spencer,” you whispered against his shoulder, “I don’t care about any of that. You being a—less experienced… doesn’t matter to me. It never has, and it never will.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his arms coming around you in return, but the tension in his body didn’t fully ease. “But what if... what if you change your mind? What if one day you realize I’m... I’m just not enough? I don’t know how to be what you deserve.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. “Spence, listen to me,” you said firmly but gently. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I didn’t fall in love with you because of some checklist of experiences or expectations. I fell in love with you. All of you. The dorkiness, the brilliance, the way you look at the world. I don’t care if you never want to have sex, or if we figure it out together. What matters is that I love you, exactly as you are.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering down to where your fingers were tracing soothing circles on his chest. “I want to believe that,” he whispered, his voice so small, so fragile.

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “I know it’s hard,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. With you. Always.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing and the quiet hum of the world outside. Spencer’s grip on you tightened as if holding on to the reassurance you offered. The doubt didn’t disappear entirely—it never really did. But you could feel him relax into your embrace, letting himself lean on you, trusting in your words even if the insecurities still lingered.

“You know,” you said after a while, a playful lilt entering your voice to lighten the mood, “you’re not the only one who has insecurities, Spence.”

He turned his head, curiosity softening the edges of his earlier worry. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m terrified of messing this up. Of somehow ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Your voice was light, but the truth behind it was evident.

His brow furrowed, clearly confused. “You? You’re worried about messing things up?”

You nodded, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Yeah. Every relationship I’ve had before this… it’s ended in an unsavory way. I don’t want that to happen with us, I don’t want us to end at all. You’re different, Spencer. In the best way. And I want this to last.”

Spencer’s expression softened, a small, almost shy smile appearing on his face. “I guess we’re both a little scared, then.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, resting your forehead against his. “But we’re in this together, okay? No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out.”

He kissed you then, a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a promise. When you pulled away, he whispered, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “You deserve every bit of happiness, Spencer Reid. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Though the insecurities never fully went away, they didn’t define your relationship. Over time, those late-night conversations became a safe place for both of you, a time to share your fears and your hopes, to remind each other of what you had.

And despite the occasional moments of doubt, you and Spencer were happy—truly happy. You built a relationship that was healthy, full of love, trust, and understanding. You were a team, navigating life together, and every step forward only brought you closer.

Because, in the end, it wasn’t about who had more experience or who was more confident. It was about being there, for each other, in every way that mattered. And that was more than enough.

—

Sean Hotchner leaned against the doorframe of Aaron’s office, his disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the professional atmosphere of the BAU. His hair was longer than Aaron remembered, tousled in a way that made it look like he had just rolled out of bed. The leather jacket slung over his shoulder was worn, his jeans frayed at the edges. Aaron barely looked up from his paperwork as Sean cleared his throat, but the tension in the room was palpable.

"Sean," Aaron greeted flatly, his tone carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken frustrations. He didn’t even need to ask why his younger brother was here. Sean only showed up when he needed something.

“Aaron, man, I need help,” Sean began, already trying to soften his tone as he stepped inside. He glanced at the bullpen behind him, noticing the open door but not caring enough to close it. "I, uh, got fired from my job. Again."

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching around the pen he held. "And?"

"And I lost my apartment," Sean continued, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have anywhere to go. I was hoping… I could crash with you for a bit. Just until I get back on my feet."

Aaron finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied his brother. His fingers drummed impatiently against the desk as he exhaled through his nose. “So, let me get this straight—you got fired, again, and now you’re asking to live with me? Sean, this is the third time. When are you going to take responsibility for your life?”

Sean shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at his boots. “I know, I know. It’s just... I hit a rough patch, alright? I’ll figure it out, I just need some time.”

Aaron’s frustration boiled just beneath the surface, his voice rising slightly, enough that it carried out into the bullpen. “You always say that, Sean. ‘I’ll figure it out.’ But you never do. I can’t keep bailing you out every time you screw up.”

In the bullpen, the conversation didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone sat at their desks, their eyes darting toward Aaron’s office. Emily leaned over to JJ, lowering her voice but not enough to hide her words.

“Is that Hotch’s brother?” Emily whispered, her eyes widening as she watched Sean from across the room.

JJ nodded, her gaze flicking between Aaron’s stern expression and Sean’s slouched posture. “Yeah, that’s Sean. He hasn’t been around in a while.”

Penelope, standing nearby, leaned in with wide, curious eyes. “Okay, but, uh... is it just me or is Sean... kind of hot?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk forming on her lips. “Oh, it’s not just you. He’s definitely got that... bad boy thing going on.”

JJ chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You two are terrible.”

Penelope shrugged dramatically. “What? I mean, I’ve heard stories, but I didn’t know Hotch had such an attractive brother! Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d be thinking some very impure thoughts right now.”

“Garcia,” JJ admonished lightly, but she was clearly amused.

They all tried to suppress their laughter, watching as Aaron’s stern voice carried into the bullpen, his frustration with Sean evident. But they couldn’t help the whispered commentary as Sean stood there, looking like the picture of trouble.

“I’d hate to see what Hotch is going to do to him once that door closes,” Emily mused, shaking her head. “But I have to admit, he’s got a certain... charm.”

Penelope wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Maybe I should go in there and offer him some moral support.”

JJ rolled her eyes, grinning. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what he needs right now.”

Back in the office, Aaron had stood up, his hands planted firmly on his desk as he glared at Sean. "You need to grow up, Sean. This can’t keep happening. I’ve got Jack to think about now. I’m not running a halfway house."

Sean's shoulders slumped, his voice lowering as he tried to appease his brother. "I know, Aaron. But I don’t have anyone else. Please, just this one last time. I swear I won’t mess it up."

Aaron ran a hand over his face, torn between anger and the sense of duty he always felt toward his family, no matter how much they disappointed him. His voice softened slightly, but only just. “This is the last time, Sean. I mean it.”

Sean gave a small nod, grateful but visibly embarrassed, as he mumbled, “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

As he turned to leave the office, the gossiping trio quickly straightened up, trying to look busy. But as Sean made his way toward the exit, Penelope couldn’t resist shooting one last glance, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean... Hotch’s brother, right? Who knew?”

JJ stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to her paperwork. Meanwhile, Emily just smiled knowingly, her eyes trailing after Sean for a moment longer before settling back into work.

No one noticed Spencer sitting at his desk behind them, listening to every word.

—

That evening you and Spencer sat across from each other at your dining table, plates of food between you, but Spencer’s voice held an unusual tension as he recounted the events of the day. His fork poked absentmindedly at his meal, his eyes flickering between you and his plate as he spoke.

“So, Sean Hotchner showed up at the bureau today,” Spencer began, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier. “Apparently, he’s having a tough time. Lost his job again.”

You tilted your head slightly, setting your fork down to give him your full attention. “Sean? Aaron’s younger brother, right?”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. He’s... been bouncing around, trying to figure things out. He came to Hotch for help, and it sounds like he’s pretty desperate.”

You sighed softly, a familiar pang tugging at your heart. You knew that feeling all too well—the desperation, the uncertainty of trying to rebuild when everything felt like it was crumbling. “That’s rough. I feel for him. It’s not easy trying to make something of yourself when you’ve hit rock bottom.”

Spencer glanced at you, his brows knitting together slightly. He knew your story, knew how hard you had worked to pull yourself up and build something successful out of nothing. Owning a nightclub wasn’t just a job—it was a symbol of everything you had overcome.

You took a sip of your drink, lost in thought for a moment before something clicked. “Does Sean have any bartending experience?”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh, yeah, actually. He’s worked at a few bars. That’s where he got fired from, this last place.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reached for your phone, fingers quickly typing out a message. Spencer watched, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though his curiosity was piqued.

You looked up, still smiling as you explained, “I’m texting Hotch. I can offer Sean a working interview tomorrow at my club. We’re always looking for good bartenders, and if he’s in need, it’s worth a shot, right?”

Spencer froze, his fork hovering in mid-air, his brain scrambling to catch up with what you’d just said. He forced a smile, but there was a storm brewing inside him. Not because you had texted Hotch—Spencer had long accepted that your relationship with his boss had developed into a friendly, professional one—but because of Sean.

He had seen Sean walk into the bureau today, watched as the women in the office had practically swooned when they saw him. Sean was tall, undeniably attractive, with an easy charm that Spencer knew was irresistible. It didn’t help that Sean had a reputation. Spencer knew he had “gotten around,” experienced in ways that Spencer wasn’t. And now, Sean was going to be working for you, in your club, where you’d be seeing him regularly.

Jealousy gnawed at Spencer’s insides, dark and insidious, feeding on his deepest fears—that one day, someone else would come along. Someone like Sean. More experienced, more charming, more… everything.

But he couldn’t let you see that. He couldn’t let you know how much this was eating at him. So, instead, he plastered on a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s... that’s really generous of you,” Spencer said, his voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil he felt. “I’m proud of you, honestly. It’s such a kind thing to do, helping him out like that.”

You beamed at his words, unaware of the storm raging inside him. “Well, it just makes sense, you know? If he’s a good bartender, why not give him a chance? It’s not like I’m handing him the job—he still has to prove himself.”

Spencer nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you. He could see how happy you were to be able to help, how genuine your intentions were, and it only made him feel worse for the insecurities twisting in his gut.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “I love you, Spence,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m glad you’re okay with this. I was worried you might think I was overstepping by getting involved.”

Spencer swallowed hard, squeezing your hand gently. “Of course I’m okay with it,” he lied, his smile still in place. “I love you too, and I’m so proud of how much you’ve accomplished. You’re always looking out for people, giving them chances. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

You smiled again, leaning across the table to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Spence. That means a lot.”

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Spencer kept his mask firmly in place, not letting his doubts show. But deep down, that gnawing feeling refused to go away. No matter how much he tried to push it aside, the thought lingered: What if one day, you realized someone like Sean was better?

—

Sean had already impressed you the moment he walked through the doors of your nightclub, right on time for his working interview. Dressed in the attire you had specified—black from head to toe—he looked sharp and professional. You had expected someone more casual, maybe even a bit cocky given his reputation, but Sean Hotchner showed up ready to work.

Aaron had called earlier that morning, expressing his gratitude for your offer. "I really appreciate this," he had said, his voice heavy with something between relief and exhaustion. "But you don’t have to feel obligated to help Sean. He’s not your responsibility."

You had assured Aaron you didn’t mind at all. After all, you were always on the lookout for good bartenders. "Especially since I just promoted my best bartender to the VIP level," you had explained. “We’ve got space to fill, and if Sean can handle the bar, it’ll be a win-win.”

Now, as you watched Sean behind the bar, you felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. He moved with precision, taking orders smoothly, mixing drinks quickly, and keeping up with the flow of the night like a seasoned professional. It was clear he had experience, and that gave you a sense of relief. You had taken a chance on him by allowing him to skip the usual server stage, something you typically required of all new hires. But it seemed like that gamble was paying off.

You made your way over to the bar as Sean finished serving a group of customers. He noticed you approaching and straightened up, giving you a nod. "How’s it going?" you asked, leaning against the counter with an approving smile.

“So far, so good,” Sean replied, a hint of confidence in his voice. “I’m used to a fast pace. It feels good to be back behind the bar.”

You smiled, appreciating his composure. “I have to say, you’re doing a great job. I usually don’t let people jump straight to bartending, but you’ve handled everything perfectly tonight.”

Sean’s face lit up with a genuine smile, his posture relaxing a little. "Thanks, that means a lot."

You nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "I think we can skip the formalities—if you’re interested, the job’s yours."

Sean’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by the offer. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," you confirmed. "You’ve shown me enough tonight. You know what you’re doing, and I could use someone like you on the team."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback by the swiftness of it all, before breaking into a grin. "Thank you. Seriously, I won’t let you down."

"You’d better not," you teased, giving him a wink. "Welcome to the team."

As Sean returned to his work, you stood back, watching him interact with customers and noticing how well he fit in with the atmosphere of the club. He was a natural behind the bar, and you were already confident in your decision. 

The next day, before the crowd came in, Aaron stopped by to check on his brother. As you greeted him, he glanced toward the bar, where Sean was preparing before what was supposed to be a busy shift.

"I have to thank you again," Aaron said, his tone sincere. "Sean needed this, more than you know."

You shook your head, brushing off the sentiment with a smile. "He’s doing a great job. Honestly, I think I’m the one who got lucky. You were right—he’s not my responsibility, but I’m happy to have him here."

Aaron gave a small, appreciative nod, his face softening. "I’ll make sure he knows how grateful he should be. You’ve done more for him than you realize."

You smiled, watching as Sean continued his work, his focus sharp and his movements steady. "He’s earned it, Aaron. I’m glad I took the chance."

Later that night, the club was in full swing, lights flashing in sync with the beat of the music, and the energy was palpable. People crowded the dance floor, moving to the rhythm, while others clustered around the bar, talking and laughing as they sipped their drinks. You navigated the floor easily, greeting regulars and keeping an eye on how things were running. It was a typical Friday night—lively, loud, and just the way you liked it.

In the center of the dance floor, Derek and Emily were having the time of their lives. Derek had drawn Emily out to dance almost as soon as they arrived, and now the two were lost in the music. Emily laughed as Derek spun her around, her dark hair flying as she moved effortlessly with him. Their laughter echoed even over the thumping bass, and it was clear that they were in their element, shaking off the stress of the week.

“Come on, Em! You can do better than that!” Derek teased, flashing her that playful grin he was famous for.

“Oh, you think so?” Emily shot back, her competitive side kicking in as she matched his dance moves with a flick of her hips. “Watch and learn, Morgan.”

Nearby, JJ stood at a high-top table, sipping a cocktail while watching them, shaking her head with an amused smile. “They’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing softly.

“They’re having fun,” Penelope added, her eyes glowing with excitement as she scanned the room. “This place is amazing! Y/N has really outdone herself!”

But Spencer was quieter than the rest, standing a little farther back from the group, his drink untouched in his hand as his eyes remained locked on the bar where Sean worked. He wasn’t dancing or chatting like the others; his focus was entirely on you and Sean. Spencer’s jaw tightened slightly as he watched the two of you exchanging easy conversation. You stood at the bar, laughing at something Sean said as he mixed drinks with practiced ease.

Sean was good, no doubt about it. He looked completely in his element behind the bar, effortlessly charming customers as he handed out drinks, his smile quick and easy. And there you were, standing beside him, looking equally relaxed and at home in your own nightclub. You smiled at Sean, gave him a friendly nudge as you helped out, your laughter ringing out above the hum of the crowd.

Spencer’s grip on his glass tightened just a fraction.

"Spence?" JJ’s voice pulled him out of his spiral. She was looking at him with concern, her head tilted slightly. "You good?"

Spencer quickly forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

JJ gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. “You sure? You’ve been staring at the bar for a while now.”

Spencer swallowed, forcing his gaze away from the scene. “Just... keeping an eye on things,” he said, trying to sound casual.

But his eyes drifted back, drawn to the way you leaned in close to talk to Sean, laughing easily at something he said. Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the irrational jealousy. He didn’t want to feel this way—not when he trusted you so deeply. But the insecurities simmered just beneath the surface, no matter how much he tried to tamp them down.

At the bar, you noticed Spencer’s gaze from across the room, giving him a quick wave and a bright smile, unaware of the storm brewing in his head. Spencer waved back, forcing himself to return your smile, but his heart was still heavy with the weight of his unspoken fears.

As Derek and Emily continued to dance, their carefree energy a stark contrast to the tension building inside Spencer, he tried to push his jealousy aside. He wanted to trust in what you had, to remind himself that you loved him, not Sean.

But as he watched you lean against the bar, your attention completely on Sean as he worked, Spencer couldn’t help but feel that gnawing insecurity settle deeper in his chest.

Spencer’s eyes flickered toward you again as you moved across the club, checking on customers, making sure everything was running smoothly. Even in your all-black uniform, which was meant to look professional, you somehow made it look effortlessly chic. The fitted black blazer, the lace tights, and that sleek skirt—it all came together in a way that caught people's attention. And it wasn’t just the customers. Spencer saw how Sean’s gaze lingered a little too long every time you walked away, his eyes drifting down to the hem of your skirt, to the low neckline of your top.

It didn’t sit right with Spencer. He tried to tell himself that Sean wasn’t doing anything out of line—he was just looking, and maybe that was normal. You looked amazing, after all. But it gnawed at him, the way Sean’s eyes followed you, the way he smiled that easy, flirtatious smile at customers and coworkers alike. There was something too comfortable about the way Sean was acting, and Spencer couldn’t shake the irritation growing in his chest.

JJ was talking with Penelope next to him, her attention catching on Sean’s antics at the bar. She chuckled, leaning closer to Spencer, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Classic Sean,” she said, shaking her head as she watched him chat up a group of women by the bar. “Talking up every person within earshot.”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He didn’t find it funny. His fingers gripped his drink a little tighter, his jaw tensing as he tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy rising inside him. Sean wasn’t just talking to the women, he was clearly charming them, making them giggle and blush with every word.

Why did I even come tonight? Spencer thought to himself. Maybe staying home would have been the better option. Watching Sean work the bar—watching him charm the customers, and worse, watching him look at you—was a slow burn of frustration that Spencer didn’t know how to handle.

JJ nudged him lightly with her elbow. “You sure you’re alright, Spence?”

He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I promise, I’m fine,” he said quietly, though his thoughts were far from fine.

He didn’t want to seem insecure, didn’t want to show just how much Sean’s presence was bothering him. But it was hard to shake the image of Sean’s lingering glances, the flirtatious air about him, and the unsettling thought that maybe, just maybe, Sean was good for you in ways that Spencer wasn’t.

As you made your way over to Spencer and his friends, completely unaware of the internal storm that had been brewing inside your boyfriend all night, your smile brightened when you saw him. “Hi, baby,” you said sweetly, leaning down to give Spencer a quick peck on the lips.

But to your surprise, instead of the brief kiss you were expecting, Spencer’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips lingered on yours longer than usual, and the intensity of the gesture caught you off guard. You could feel the heat of his hands through the fabric of your blazer, the possessiveness in his grip that was unlike him, especially in public.

When you finally pulled back, slightly dazed, your cheeks flushed as you whispered, “Damn, baby, what did I do to deserve that?” You playfully tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, grinning at him.

Spencer’s grip on you didn’t falter. In fact, he pulled you even closer, positioning you between his spread thighs from where he sat on the stool. His gaze was soft, but there was something in his eyes, something deeper. “You just look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling heat rise to your face. Spencer wasn’t usually so bold, so forward—especially not in front of other people. The sweet boy you loved was often shy, reserved, but this moment? This was different. It was as if he was trying to show you something, stake a quiet claim that you couldn’t quite understand.

You gave him another quick kiss, smiling softly against his lips before pulling back. “Well, thank you,” you said, feeling your own cheeks flush. You glanced at the group with a bright smile before excusing yourself to check on a few things at the bar. As you walked away, Spencer’s eyes followed you, his hand still resting on his thigh, feeling the lingering warmth where he’d held you close.

No sooner had you disappeared from view than Penelope was already nudging Spencer with a playful grin. “Spencer Reid!” she teased, her voice brimming with amusement as she lightly slapped his shoulder. “Save it for later, horn dog!”

Spencer felt his entire face turn scarlet, his heart pounding with embarrassment. He wasn’t trying to be… well, that! But the way Penelope’s eyes twinkled, the implication that she thought the two of you were all over each other in that way, made him squirm in his seat.

“Oh, come on, don’t blush, pretty boy,” Penelope giggled, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “You’ve been staring at her all night. We know what’s on your mind.”

JJ joined in, her laugh warm and teasing. “Yeah, Spence, is that why you’ve been keeping an eye on her all night? Can’t wait to get Y/N all to yourself later?”

Spencer wished he could disappear into thin air. He shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the heat rising to his ears. “Something like that,” he muttered, but the truth weighed heavier on him than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t that Spencer wasn’t physically attracted to you—he adored every part of you—but the teasing only made him feel more inadequate, more aware of the gap between your experience and his. The others didn’t know. They had no idea that he hadn’t crossed the line into physical intimacy with you yet, despite your relationship being serious, despite you having already moved in together and said “I love you.” 

Most couples would have by now, he thought bitterly. And everyone else, Penelope and JJ included—they probably assumed you two were just like everyone else, that he was just another guy in a committed relationship. The teasing implied as much.

But Spencer knew the truth, and it gnawed at him—those dark fears he kept bottled up, that you would eventually find someone more experienced, more capable, someone who could offer you more than he ever could.

The soft click of the door echoed through the apartment as you stepped inside, already feeling the exhaustion from the long night creeping in. It was well past 3:00 a.m., the time when the world was quiet, and you expected the same from your apartment. Usually, Spencer would be fast asleep by now, his rhythmic breathing a comforting sound you’d find when you crawled into bed after closing the club. But tonight, as you set your bag down and kicked off your heels, you were surprised to see the warm glow of a lamp in the living room.

Spencer was sitting in his favorite green armchair, the soft pages of a book resting in his lap as he looked up, a sleepy but genuine grin spreading across his face. The sight of him there, waiting for you, made your heart swell. His hair was slightly disheveled, his long fingers trailing off the edge of the chair as he beckoned you closer with open arms.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice warm and low, the kind of greeting that made you feel instantly at home.

You couldn’t resist the invitation, crossing the room in a few quick strides before slipping into his arms, settling into the chair with him. “Hi, my love,” you sighed, leaning into his warmth, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you inhaled his familiar scent. The combination of coffee and books was something uniquely Spencer, and it always made you feel safe.

“How was closing?” he asked, his voice gentle as his hand moved to stroke your back in slow, soothing circles.

You shivered lightly at his touch, enjoying the familiar rhythm of his fingers. “It was fine,” you murmured, your breath soft against his neck. “Sean is so much faster than Amber was. It makes things a lot easier.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you felt it. The way Spencer’s body tensed beneath you, the way his hand paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. You didn’t think much of it at first—maybe he was just tired—but then his touch changed. The gentle strokes on your back turned into something more deliberate, more intent as his hand slid lower.

“Hmmm,” Spencer hummed, his tone almost too casual. “I’m glad he’s been helpful.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but your thoughts trailed off as Spencer’s hand slid down further, past the small of your back, coming to rest on your thigh. His fingers pressed into the fabric there, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver through you. At first, you didn’t think much of it—Spencer’s touch was always affectionate, but this felt different.

“Yeah, he really has been—” Your sentence was cut short as Spencer’s hand traveled higher, his fingers brushing over your ass with a boldness that caught you off guard. His touch was unmistakable now, filled with an intensity you weren’t used to seeing from your typically gentle and reserved boyfriend.

You lifted your head, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for the meaning behind this sudden shift. His gaze was dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen before—jealousy and possessiveness that simmered just beneath the surface.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asked, his voice a little rougher than usual, his hand still resting firmly on your body.

You blinked, your heart racing a little faster as you processed his question. “Yeah, baby, of course,” you whispered, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. You gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know there was nothing to be uncertain about. “You can touch me anywhere.”

At your words, you felt something shift in Spencer. A quiet storm brewing behind his soft exterior, flared up. His hand flexed against you, and you could see it in his eyes now—he was staking his claim, reminding himself, and maybe even you, that he was the one who had the right to be close to you like this.

He was the one allowed to touch you, to hold you, to love you. Not Sean, not anyone else. Only him.

Without another word, Spencer pulled you closer, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to make sure you understood. You weren’t sure where this sudden intensity came from, but it made your heart race in a different way. This wasn’t the soft, shy Spencer you were used to. This was something deeper, something more primal. And for a moment, you were both wrapped up in it, the quiet room charged with unspoken tension.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and tender, hoping to ease whatever storm was brewing inside him. “Spence,” you whispered against his lips, “I’m yours.”

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between you. He had always felt a deep sense of attraction for you, but acting on it had been something he’d carefully avoided—out of nervousness, out of insecurity. But tonight there was something about the way you had reassured him, the way you said he could touch you, that ignited a new kind of confidence in him. 

He leaned down, closing the space between you, and kissed you with a passion that surprised even him. It was much like the kiss you’d shared earlier at the club, only this time there was an intensity behind it—a hunger that had been quietly building for a long time. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved with yours, no longer tentative, but sure, as though he had made a silent decision within himself.

You were taken aback for only a brief moment, but not at all upset by the new direction your night was taking. If anything, you were thrilled to see this side of him, this bolder, more assertive Spencer. You brought both hands up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently stroking his jawline as you kissed him back, pouring all your affection into the moment. His hands, meanwhile, began to roam your body, exploring what little he could in this current position, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, your thighs. There was an eagerness in his touch, a yearning that you could feel pulsing from him.

You could sense that he wanted more, that he wasn’t sure how to ask for it, but you knew. You knew exactly what he needed. Without a word, you sat up from where you were nestled in his lap, moving slowly so you could shift your position. You swung one leg over him, straddling his lap and settling back down, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Then, with a teasing smile, you took his hands in yours, guiding them back to where he seemed to want them the most—onto your ass. 

“Better?” you asked, your smirk playful, though your heart was racing just as fast as his.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, the weight of your body on his lap combined with the newfound freedom in his touch making him dizzy with need. His fingers instinctively squeezed the flesh beneath them, reveling in the feeling of holding you like this, of having you so close.

“Much,” he managed to say, his voice weak with desire, his eyes wide as he looked up at you. He leaned forward again, capturing your lips in another kiss, more urgent this time. His hands tightened around you, holding you as if afraid you might slip away. You could feel the tension in his body as he leaned into the kiss, the way he was holding back so much yet giving in more than he ever had before.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the heat between you building as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, then found their way back to your ass, squeezing you with newfound confidence. He wasn’t just nervous Spencer anymore—he was Spencer who wanted you, and that thought made you smile against his lips.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to catch your breath and look into his eyes. His gaze was filled with a mix of awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, yet he was determined to take the leap.

“I love this side of you,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair as you leaned your forehead against his. “But we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

As you whispered those reassuring words, you saw the subtle flicker of doubt flash across Spencer’s face. His confidence, which had been so bold a moment ago, seemed to waver. You could practically see the question forming in his mind—Did you not want this? Was he misreading the situation? 

You were quick to close the gap between his fear and your truth. “I want to do everything with you, baby,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly, your lips brushing against his with tender intent. Then, in a playful move, you gently bit down on his bottom lip, just enough to make him whine, a small, needy sound escaping his throat that sent a thrill through you. “I just don’t want to rush anything,” you continued, your voice soothing but firm. “We have all the time in the world.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, making sure your next words landed where they needed to. “I am not going anywhere, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.”

Spencer’s chest rose and fell with the deep breath he took, his gaze softening as your words sank in. He nodded, his hand still resting possessively on your waist. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath but carrying the full weight of his emotions.

You smiled at him, a loving, genuine smile that only deepened his feelings. “I love you more,” you whispered back before leaning down to kiss him again.

In that moment, the kiss was everything. Soft, slow, reassuring, full of the love and trust that you’d both built together. But then, as you shifted in his lap, your body moved instinctively—rolling your hips ever so slightly. You hadn’t meant to, but the unmistakable hardness beneath you pressed against your core, causing a delicious friction that neither of you expected.

Spencer whimpered into your mouth, the sound raw and unrestrained, his hips jerking upward involuntarily in response to the sudden, new form of pleasure. The sensation seemed to spark something deep inside him, a rush of need that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. You felt his fingers tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as he chased the friction, his body moving beneath you as if on autopilot.

The way Spencer reacted to the brief touch, the soft sounds of desperation coming from him, sent a thrill through your own body. You could feel the heat rising between you both, the chemistry shifting from sweet to something more electric. Your lips hovered just above his, your breath mingling with his as you caught the look in his eyes—dark, yearning, and yet still so full of love.

You kissed him again, slower this time, savoring every second as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Spence…” you whispered, his name a quiet plea on your lips, “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Mhm,” he whined softly, eyes closed as he leaned into the feeling, chasing the sensation your touch brought him. His body responded instinctively, moving with you, completely lost in the moment.

You were just about to suggest something more, thinking about shedding some of the clothing between you, when suddenly, Spencer stilled beneath you. His entire body tensed, and before you could ask what was wrong, he let out a long, unexpected moan. You felt it—an undeniable wetness seeping through your tights. 

Spencer’s eyes shot open in mortification, his face flushing crimson as he realized what had just happened. Panic set in immediately, and without a word, he scrambled out from under you, pushing you off gently but urgently as he bolted toward the bathroom. 

You barely had time to process what had happened before he disappeared behind the door. The sound of it closing echoed through the quiet apartment, leaving you sitting there, still feeling the heat of the moment but now overtaken by concern. You stood up, adjusting yourself and taking a deep breath, your mind quickly shifting from your own arousal to Spencer’s sudden distress.

You followed him to the bathroom, heart heavy as you heard him breathing heavily on the other side of the door. Gently, you knocked, your voice soft and filled with care. “Spencer? Honey, are you okay?”

A sniffle came from the other side, a sound that broke your heart. “No,” he whimpered, his voice small, ashamed.

You leaned your forehead against the door, trying to offer him comfort without pushing too hard. “Can I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle and filled with reassurance.

“No,” he answered again, his voice cracking, clearly embarrassed.

You sighed softly, wanting nothing more than to hold him, to make sure he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. “Why not, baby?” you asked, your voice soft but persistent.

Spencer hesitated, his breath shaky as he tried to find the words. “Because... because I... I... ruined it,” he stammered, his voice thick with tears.

Your heart broke at his words. Ruined it? There was nothing to ruin. You leaned against the door more firmly, wanting him to hear the sincerity in your voice. “Spencer,” you said softly, “you didn’t ruin anything, my love. Please let me in. We can talk about it, okay?”

He sniffled again, his breathing still shaky. You could hear him shifting on the other side, his back still pressed against the door. “I... I couldn’t control it. I didn’t mean to... it’s so embarrassing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you reassured him, feeling your own heart ache for him. “It’s normal. It happens. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.”

There was a pause, and you could hear him take a deep breath, as if he was trying to gather himself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

Slowly, you opened the door and found Spencer standing there, his eyes red-rimmed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. His gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding yours out of sheer mortification. Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace.

He hesitated at first, still feeling the weight of his embarrassment, but eventually, his arms came around you, holding on tightly as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his voice muffled and thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes were filled with nothing but love and understanding. “Spencer, you don’t have to be sorry,” you said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He blinked at you, clearly still struggling to accept that. “But... it was... I didn’t even—”

“Shh,” you soothed him, gently placing a finger against his lips, your voice soft but reassuring. “How about we focus on how that felt, yeah?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, tilting his head at you, still unsure how to navigate this moment. His embarrassment was still fresh, but your calmness helped ease the tension that had built up inside him.

“Did it feel good, baby?” you asked, your tone gentle and coaxing. “Like something you’d want to try again?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the realization hit Spencer—what you were doing. You weren’t focusing on his embarrassment, his mistake. You were helping him see past it, guiding him back to what mattered: the feeling you had shared, the intimacy of the moment. His heart swelled with gratitude, a soft warmth spreading through his chest.

“Yes,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and sincerity. “It did.”

You smiled up at him, and that smile was all it took to melt the remaining tension in his body. Leaning in, you kissed him, a slow and tender kiss filled with the reassurance that everything was okay, that he was okay. “I liked it too,” you whispered against his lips. “Maybe we can do that again soon?”

Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile, more confident this time. “I would like that,” he admitted, his voice steady, a little more sure of himself.

Your heart swarmed with affection as you pulled him close, pressing your cheek against his as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his body relaxing into yours. You gently rubbed his back, feeling the tension ease from his muscles as he sighed against your skin.

“Do you want to shower, Spence?” you asked softly, your hand trailing soothing patterns up and down his back.

Spencer nuzzled closer to you, his voice a low mumble into your skin. “Together?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “We can,” you hummed, “but if that’s too much right now, I don’t mind leaving. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Spencer shook his head rapidly, pulling you closer. “Don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Okay, okay,” you soothed, your fingers still brushing lightly across his back. “I won’t leave. We can shower together.”

Spencer sighed happily, his arms tightening around you as if to confirm that you were staying, that you weren’t going anywhere. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck before mumbling, “Just… don’t look at my penis, please?”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up, but you quickly reassured him, kissing his cheek as you whispered, “Of course, my love. My eyes will stay on your face.”

With that promise, Spencer relaxed further into you, his trust in you deepening with every passing second. The shame and embarrassment from earlier slowly dissolved, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you accepted him fully, without judgment. You held him for a moment longer, your arms wrapped securely around him.

The shower was filled with steam and laughter, the sound of water splashing mixing with your playful giggles and Spencer’s rare, carefree chuckles. It was the first time you had shared the shower, a new experience that was turning out to be much more fun than either of you had expected. Usually, one of you would sit outside on the toilet, talking through the curtain while the other showered. But now, the barrier was gone, and the playful side of both of you was in full swing.

You couldn’t resist puffing your cheeks full of water and spitting it in Spencer’s direction, making him laugh out loud as droplets hit his chest. “Hey!” he protested, though his grin betrayed him as he retaliated with a splash of his own, his hands sending a wave of water your way.

You laughed, dodging the water as best as you could, enjoying this lighthearted, silly moment between you two. It was refreshing to see Spencer like this, so relaxed, his usual careful demeanor replaced with playful mischief.

But there was something else too. Spencer tried his hardest to keep his eyes on your face—his eyes darting up quickly whenever they drifted a little lower. You couldn’t help but giggle each time he looked away, a blush creeping up his neck, his face flushed for reasons beyond just the heat of the shower.

After the fourth or fifth time of catching him sneaking a glance only to immediately avert his eyes, you decided to call him out on it. “Spencer,” you giggled, crossing your arms over your chest playfully. “I am your girlfriend, you know?”

Spencer looked back at you, his brow furrowing in that adorable, confused way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “I know that, why are you asking?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, genuinely perplexed.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his expression, shaking your head in amusement. “Because, you big dork,” you cackled, “you’re allowed to look at my boobs! You can even touch them if you want!”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his blush deepening as he processed your words. “I—well, I just didn’t want to... I mean...” He stammered, looking flustered but also a little curious, his gaze flickering down before darting back up to your eyes. “I didn’t want to seem disrespectful.”

You burst out laughing, stepping closer to him, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Spence,” you said between your giggles, “you could never be disrespectful. Trust me.”

He blinked, still looking a little unsure but also charmed by your playfulness. “I... I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile.

You rolled your eyes affectionately, moving his hands from your waist to your chest with a smirk. “Here, I’ll even help you.”

Spencer’s face turned crimson as he felt the softness beneath his hands, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin as if he were still processing what was happening. His touch was tentative, delicate, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his nose. “See? Not so scary, right?”

He swallowed, finally letting himself relax a little, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. “Not scary,” he echoed softly, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and affection. Then, as if realizing the silliness of it all, he let out a small laugh, shaking his head at himself.

You both stood there in the warmth of the shower, your bodies close, the steam curling around you as Spencer finally allowed himself to look, to touch, to enjoy this new level of intimacy with you. It was another step in your relationship, one that made both of you feel more connected, more comfortable with each other.

But as always, you couldn’t resist keeping the moment light. With a mischievous grin, you puffed your cheeks full of water again and spat it playfully in Spencer’s direction, causing him to sputter in surprise and laugh as he wiped his face.

“Hey!” he laughed, shaking his head as water dripped from his hair. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, backing up against the wall of the shower with a grin. “What are you gonna do about it, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer, the playful dynamic back in full swing, earlier embarrassment long forgotten. It was just the two of you now, laughing, teasing, and enjoying each other in the most carefree way. And that, in the end, was what made this moment perfect.

—

As the weeks rolled on, Spencer found himself spending more and more time at your nightclub. It had become a routine for him during his free weekends, a way to be closer to you. On the busier nights, he would sit at the bar, watching you work, admiring the way you effortlessly ran the place. And on weeknights, when you invited the bartenders in during closed hours to practice making new drinks, Spencer would linger in the background, quietly observing.

But each time he visited, something gnawed at him. It wasn’t just the crowd, the music, or the dim lighting of the club—it was Sean. At first, Spencer tried to brush it off. He chalked it up to Sean’s naturally charming personality, how bartenders often carried themselves with confidence, flirting with customers as part of the job. But now, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like there was something more.

Sean’s eyes seemed to linger on you longer than they should, or at least that’s how it appeared to Spencer. Over the past few weeks, with Spencer spending more time at the club, he became convinced that Sean had started flirting with you. His words seemed just a bit too smooth, his smiles lingered a little too long. Spencer couldn’t ignore the casual way Sean would lean in when he spoke to you or how he seemed overly attentive whenever you checked in at the bar.

What Spencer didn’t know, however, was that Sean had recently confided in you about his lack of attraction to women. While he wasn’t out of the closet yet, he wanted to make sure his playful, flirtatious behavior was never misunderstood. It was all in good fun, a way to keep the atmosphere light and easy at work, and he trusted you enough to share his truth, knowing it wouldn’t affect your friendship or professional relationship.

One night, after a long day, you and Spencer were curled up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as the two of you settled into your usual post-work relaxation. You were absentmindedly playing with Spencer’s hand while a TV show played in the background, the glow of the screen filling the cozy living room. But Spencer’s mind wasn’t on the show. His thoughts were elsewhere—back at the club, and back on Sean.

“Hey…” Spencer began, his voice hesitant as his fingers traced small circles on your knee.

You looked over at him, smiling softly. “Yeah, babe?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to sound paranoid, but the thought had been eating away at him for days now. “I think… I think Sean’s been flirting with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his statement. “What? Sean?” The idea made you laugh—not to be dismissive of Spencer’s feelings, but the thought of Sean flirting with you, his boss, was almost comical. “Spence, no way.”

He frowned slightly, feeling a bit vulnerable after putting it out there. “I’m serious. He looks at you… and I’ve heard him make little comments. I don’t know, it just feels like he’s always trying to get your attention in a certain way.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, though your tone was softer this time, recognizing the seriousness in his voice. “Baby, bartenders flirt. It’s literally part of the job. They flirt with everyone—it doesn’t mean anything.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly. He knew you didn’t mean to dismiss his concern, but it stung a little. “Yeah, I know, but… it’s different with him. I see the way he acts around you. It’s not the same as with other people.”

You shifted, sitting up a bit to face him, brushing a hand through his hair. “Spencer, I promise you, Sean’s just doing his job. If he’s flirting, he’s doing it with every customer that walks through the door.” You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him softly. “And even if he was flirting with me, it wouldn’t matter. You’re the only one I have eyes for.”

Your words were meant to reassure him, but Spencer still felt that unease. He didn’t doubt your loyalty or love for him, but there was something about Sean that bothered him. He could sense it—the subtle charm, the lingering glances that made his stomach twist with jealousy. But he didn’t want to seem overly paranoid or insecure, especially not after you had laughed off the idea. So, instead of pushing it further, Spencer just nodded, giving you a weak smile in return.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” he murmured, though the knot in his chest hadn’t untangled.

You kissed him again, resting your head on his shoulder. “Of course I’m right. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

But even as you both settled back into your cozy position, Spencer couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. He didn’t want to keep bringing it up, didn’t want to seem annoyingly jealous or insecure, so he kept it bottled up after that night, silently watching from the sidelines each time he visited the club. But each time Sean’s eyes lingered too long on you, or every time Spencer caught the slight inflection in Sean’s voice when he spoke to you, the feeling festered inside him, unresolved.

—

Spencer hadn't realized just how much his pent-up frustration was affecting him—at least, not until the team started to notice. What began as subtle shifts in his demeanor during interrogations had gradually turned into something much more obvious. Spencer had always been the calm, logical one. The genius with a kind heart, who often sought to understand unsubs and their motivations. But recently, something had changed.

During takedowns, Spencer's grip on suspects was firmer, his actions more aggressive than they needed to be. When it came to interviews and interrogations, he was no longer the patient profiler with a steady voice. His words were sharp, cold, and sometimes downright cutting. He'd lean in too close, his eyes dark with intensity, and his voice would drop to a low, threatening tone that made even the most hardened criminals flinch. He became a version of himself that no one on the team recognized.

It all came to a head when they brought in a person of interest—someone who wasn’t even officially connected to the crime yet, just a potential witness. The woman had been nervous enough as it was, but the moment Spencer stepped into the interrogation room, his usual warmth and understanding were gone. Instead, he stared her down, his eyes hard, his tone biting as he drilled her with questions. The more she stammered, the harsher he became, until finally, the woman broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hotch had seen enough. The moment Spencer walked out of the interrogation room, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides, Hotch made the decision to pull him aside.

“Reid, conference room. Now.”

Spencer barely glanced up, his frustration still evident, but he followed Hotch without a word. The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances as they watched him disappear into the room, the door closing firmly behind them.

Hotch turned to face Spencer, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. "What the hell is going on with you, Reid?" His voice was stern but not unkind, giving Spencer the chance to explain himself.

Spencer, still bristling with residual anger, shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what Hotch meant, but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

“You made a person of interest cry, Spencer,” Hotch said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That woman was barely connected to the case, and you broke her down like she was the unsub. This isn’t like you.”

Spencer crossed his arms, suddenly feeling defensive. “She wasn’t cooperating. I was just trying to get the truth out of her.”

“There are ways to get the truth out of people that don’t involve scaring them,” Hotch countered. “You’ve always known that. But this—this isn’t the Reid we all know. What’s going on?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he considered brushing it off, making some excuse about the stress of the job, but he knew Hotch wouldn’t buy it. The truth of it was, Spencer didn’t even fully understand what had been driving him lately. All he knew was that something inside him had shifted, a growing aggression that he couldn’t quite shake.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Spencer muttered, though he knew how weak the excuse sounded.

“Reid, you and I both know that’s not true,” Hotch said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve been on edge for weeks. I’ve noticed it, and so has the rest of the team. Whatever’s going on with you, you need to talk about it. Before it gets worse.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind raced, filled with thoughts of the one thing that had been eating away at him for weeks: Sean and the club. The jealousy, the fear, the constant feeling that he wasn’t enough. He had tried to keep it bottled up, had tried to pretend that everything was fine, but clearly, it wasn’t. And now, it was affecting his work—affecting who he was.

“I…” Spencer’s voice faltered, his throat tightening as he realized how ridiculous it might sound to Hotch. But there was no point in hiding it anymore. “It’s personal.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, his gaze steady as he waited for Spencer to continue. The silence stretched between them, a gentle but firm reminder that Hotch was giving Spencer space to be honest.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the conversation hanging over him. He knew what Hotch was expecting, what he should say, but the truth was harder to face than he anticipated.

“I’ll talk to someone,” Spencer finally said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair in a tired gesture. His voice was laced with reluctance, but there was a genuine attempt to reassure his boss. “I promise.”

Hotch studied him for a moment longer, the skepticism clear in his eyes, though he didn’t vocalize it. He knew Spencer well enough to recognize when he was pushing something down, burying it beneath layers of self-control and avoidance. And as much as Hotch wanted to push further, he also knew that Spencer was an adult—one who had to take ownership of his own emotions.

“Alright,” Hotch finally said, his tone even. “I’m trusting you to handle this, Spencer. Don’t let it get worse.”

Spencer nodded, though a small part of him wasn’t sure if he’d follow through. But the weight of Hotch’s gaze made it clear that this conversation wouldn’t be forgotten easily.

Hotch gave a final nod, his demeanor softening just slightly as he spoke. “Take care of yourself, Reid.”

Spencer forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I will,” he said, though the truth of the promise felt heavy.

With that, the conversation ended, and Spencer made his way out of Hotch’s office, feeling the quiet pressure of everything that had built up inside him over the past few weeks. He knew he had to do something about it—he had to talk to you, or someone, before this spiral led him further down a path he didn’t want to follow.

For now, though, he’d keep the promise to himself, hoping that he’d find the strength to follow through.

—

Spencer had barely set foot through the door before you were there to greet him, your usual warmth and love surrounding him as you kissed him softly, welcoming him home. But instead of the usual sense of relief he felt in your embrace, something inside him snapped. The frustration from the case, from everything that had been building inside him, surged to the surface.

Without thinking, Spencer grabbed your face, pulling you into a deep, urgent kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you were used to from him—it was rough, almost desperate. He devoured your mouth like he was trying to lose himself in you, his hands gripping you tighter than usual. You assumed it was just the result of a tough case, and maybe he just missed you. But something about the intensity of it was off.

As Spencer’s hands tugged at the hem of your shirt, right there in the walkway by the front door, you tried to pull back slightly to ask him if everything was okay. But he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care—because he kept tugging, his fingers working to get your shirt over your head.

You let him pull it off, still unsure of what was going on but trusting that Spencer wouldn’t act like this without reason. Maybe he just needed you, needed to feel close to you. But when he backed you towards the bedroom with that same roughness, something in the pit of your stomach twisted with unease.

Then, when he pushed you onto the bed—aggressively, without the usual care he always showed—alarm bells started ringing in your head.

"Spencer!" you called out, your voice louder than intended, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

But Spencer didn’t stop. If he noticed your tone, he either misread it or ignored it, because he crawled over you, his hands fumbling with your pants now, too focused on what he was doing to realize you were uncomfortable.

Panic set in then. This wasn’t your Spencer. He had never acted like this before. You pushed at his hands, your heart racing as you called out again, louder this time.

“Spencer, stop!” you shouted, finally shoving his hands away from your waist.

Spencer froze, his body going rigid above you as your words seemed to cut through the fog of whatever had taken over him. His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the mix of confusion and shame washing over his face as he registered what you had said.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked, your voice breathless but firm, your hands still on his chest to keep some distance between you.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything. He looked away, the sting of rejection clear in the way his shoulders slumped and his hands fell limply to his sides. “Nothing,” he muttered, his voice quiet and defensive.

You sat up, pulling your shirt back on, your concern growing with every second that passed. “It’s obviously something, Spence. You’ve never acted like this before.”

Spencer kept his eyes down, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I just missed you,” he mumbled, though you could tell there was more to it than that. The way he was avoiding your eyes, the tension in his body—it all told you that this wasn’t just about missing you.

You reached for his hand, gently pulling him to sit down on the bed beside you. “I know you missed me,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone calm and reassuring. “But this isn’t like you. Please, talk to me.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might stay silent. But then, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if he was trying to push away whatever emotions were swirling inside him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted quietly, his voice thick with frustration. “I’ve just… I’ve been feeling so off lately. Angry. Insecure. And I keep telling myself not to, but… I can’t stop thinking about Sean, and how he looks at you, and how much better he is at everything, and—” He stopped abruptly, his hands clenching into fists in his lap as he tried to control the storm of emotions building inside him.

You blinked, finally starting to piece together the reason behind his behavior. “Spence, this is about Sean?”

Spencer’s shoulders sagged, his silence confirming your suspicions. He finally looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw all the fear, jealousy, and insecurity he had been trying to hide for weeks.

“I know it’s stupid,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you love me, and I know he’s just a bartender at your club, but… I can’t stop feeling like I’m not enough. Like you’ll realize you could have someone… better.”

Your heart broke at his words. You cupped his face gently, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Spencer,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “You are more than enough. I love you. There is no one better for me. Sean is just a coworker. You’re the man I want, please believe me.”

Spencer sat back on his heels, looking down at his hands, feeling the weight of his own frustration and shame. He had never wanted to make you uncomfortable, never wanted to act like this, but the jealousy that had been building inside him finally broke through. Now, here he was, on the edge of ruining something so precious to him.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we talked about it, and I know you don’t see Sean that way. It’s just… it’s so hard, watching him flirt with you every day. And you don’t stop him. It feels like… like I’m not enough.”

You sat up, still catching your breath from the intensity of the moment, but your heart ached hearing his words. You hadn’t realized how deep his insecurities ran. The playful flirting from Sean, which you had brushed off as part of the job, had been festering inside Spencer for weeks, and you hadn’t seen it.

“Spencer, baby,” you started, your voice gentle but firm as you reached for his hand. “You are enough. More than enough. I don’t let him flirt with me because I want him to, or because I’m interested. It’s his job to be friendly, charming even, but that’s all it is. I don’t see Sean the way I see you. I only have eyes for you.”

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But what if one day… what if one day you change your mind?” he asked softly, the fear evident in his voice. “What if one day, you find someone who’s more… experienced, more everything?”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “That’s not going to happen, Spencer,” you said firmly. “I love you. Not because of experience, or because of anything physical, but because of who you are. You’re kind, brilliant, thoughtful, and you make me happier than I’ve ever been. No one else even comes close.”

Spencer swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to… to act like that. I just—I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You stroked his cheek, offering him a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “But we need to talk about these things, okay? If you’re feeling like this, I want to know. I don’t want you to keep it bottled up until it explodes like this.”

Spencer nodded, his head dipping down as he let out a shaky breath. “I know. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”

“You’re not weak, Spencer,” you said softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

He let out a long sigh, his body finally relaxing as the tension drained out of him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your skin.

“I love you too, Spencer,” you whispered back, holding him just as tightly. "Always."

Later that evening, after Spencer had unpacked his things and taken a long, soothing bath, the two of you settled onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie playing softly in the background. The warm, familiar glow of your living room felt comforting, but you couldn’t help but notice how hesitant Spencer was. He sat beside you, his body tense, his hands resting awkwardly in his lap, as though he was afraid to touch you. 

It broke your heart to see him like this, to see him so uncertain. You knew he still felt guilty about what had happened earlier, worried that he had somehow ruined everything.

“Honey,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. “You can still hold me, you know… or if you’d rather, do you want me to hold you?”

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitation. But then, slowly, he nodded, his expression softening as he shifted on the couch. He leaned over, laying his head gently in your lap, and you couldn’t help but smile at how vulnerable and sweet he looked in that moment.

As soon as his head was settled, you instinctively began playing with his hair, your fingers threading through the soft strands as you stroked him gently. You felt him relax under your touch, his body finally easing into the comfort of your presence.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice soothing as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. “Earlier, I was worried because we haven’t gone that far before. That doesn’t mean I never want you to touch me again. Okay? I just want us to be on the same page, to make sure we’re both ready.”

He nodded again, his face nestled against your thigh as he let out a soft sigh. “I get it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to push you or anything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling.”

You leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. “I know, baby. And we’ll figure it out together, at our own pace. There’s no rush.”

Spencer shifted slightly, looking up at you with soft, grateful eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “For being so understanding.”

You smiled warmly, leaning down to kiss his forehead once more. “I’ll always understand, Spence. You never have to be afraid of that.”

As you continued to play with his hair, Spencer closed his eyes, letting the comfort of the moment wash over him. You could feel the tension in his body melt away, and soon enough, he was relaxed and peaceful, knowing that everything between you two was going to be okay.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Spencer felt like he could truly breathe again.

—

You had taken a Friday night off to be with Spencer, trusting your number two to keep things running smoothly. Spencer had taken you to dinner, wined and dined you before bringing you home and kissing you sweetly. Now the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate atmosphere around you both. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, tender and slow, taking your time with each other. Spencer’s hands had wandered, tentative at first, but growing more confident as the moments passed. You had already reassured him a dozen times over that you were ready, that this was something you wanted to share with him.

And now, the moment was here. You laid in front of him, completely bare, your skin bathed in the soft light. Spencer’s eyes roamed over your body, wide and filled with awe. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands shaking slightly as they reached out to touch you. He was gentle, reverent, as though he were afraid of hurting you by merely looking.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his fingertips ghosted over your skin. He took his time, memorizing every curve, every line, as if he wanted to commit every inch of you to memory.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection as you leaned down to kiss him. “Thank you, baby.”

Spencer swallowed hard, still staring in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re perfect.”

You laughed softly, your heart swelling with warmth. "I’m not perfect, Spence."

He looked at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "You are to me," he said, his voice full of honesty and affection.

With only mild hesitation, Spencer leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone, his lips trailing slowly down to your breasts. He explored every inch of you with care, his lips brushing your skin tenderly. You couldn't help but let out soft whines of pleasure, and Spencer, trying to learn what you like, paid extra attention when your sounds grew louder, lingering in the spots that made your breath hitch.

As your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, gripping softly, Spencer's teeth accidentally grazed your nipple when his lips suctioned to your breast. The unexpected sensation caused you to arch your back and moan loudly, the sound filling the quiet room.

Spencer immediately pulled back, his face filled with concern, eyes wide in alarm. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His voice was thick with worry, afraid he had crossed a line.

You shook your head quickly, reassuring him as your hands stroked his hair gently. "No, no, baby, I liked it," you whispered, your breath still shaky from the pleasure. "It's okay. It felt good."

Relief washed over Spencer’s face, his lips curling into a small, nervous smile as he realized he hadn’t hurt you. He leaned back in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and this time, he allowed himself to explore you with even more confidence, knowing that you were both in this together.

Spencer froze for a moment, his eyes wide with concern, his breath shaky as he pulled back just enough to search your face. His brow furrowed, worry evident in every inch of his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. His hands hovered over your body, not daring to touch you until he knew for certain that you were alright. 

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection at just how much he cared. Reaching up, you gently brushed a hand through his hair, guiding him back toward you. “I’m sure, Spence. I liked it, I promise,” you whispered reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me. In fact, I liked it a lot.”

Spencer’s eyes searched yours, still looking for any signs of discomfort, but all he found was warmth and trust. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, the tension in his body easing as he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, though his face softened with a hint of relief. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, pulling him closer, your hands threading through his hair again, this time more gently. “You don’t have to apologize,” you murmured against his lips. “I love everything you do, Spencer. Just… trust me, okay? Trust that I’ll tell you if something is wrong.”

He nodded, still looking a little unsure but reassured by the sincerity in your voice. His eyes softened as he leaned back down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before trailing them once more along your collarbone, and then lower, toward your chest. This time, there was a careful gentleness in his touch, though the intensity hadn’t faded.

You arched your back again, your body responding to his kisses, to the way his lips brushed against your skin with both tenderness and a growing confidence. As he felt you grip his hair again, Spencer’s lips paused just for a moment, as if waiting for any sign that you weren’t comfortable. But when your soft moans filled the room, he took that as all the permission he needed to continue.

His lips pressed harder, his hands exploring your body with more intent, and this time, when his teeth grazed your skin, he did it purposefully, testing the boundaries of your pleasure.

And when you moaned again, louder this time, Spencer felt a surge of something—both pride and desire—swell inside him. He kissed you again, his lips and teeth finding the spots that made your breath hitch, his hands moving with a confidence that he hadn’t known he possessed until now.

In that moment, you both shared something deeper, a connection that wasn’t just about trust but about exploring each other fully, knowing that in this space, in this moment, there was nothing but love, vulnerability, and acceptance.

—

The bookstore was a haven of calm, a peaceful retreat from the world. The scent of old paper, leather-bound books, and the soft rustle of pages being turned created an atmosphere of quiet serenity. It was the perfect place for you and Spencer to spend the afternoon. 

From the moment you walked in, hand in hand, you could see how at home Spencer felt here. His eyes lit up with excitement as he scanned the shelves, fingers trailing over spines as if each book held a personal story he was waiting to uncover. You loved watching him like this—so in his element, so absorbed in his passion for knowledge and discovery.

But, of course, the playful side of you couldn’t resist adding a bit of mischief to the day. As Spencer dove headfirst into the non-fiction section, his attention already lost in the spines of ancient history volumes, you snuck off into a different aisle, peeking around the corner like a spy on a secret mission. You had been teasing him since you arrived—jumping out at him from behind shelves, sneaking little pokes and playful scares.

You watched from your hiding spot, stifling a giggle as Spencer carefully examined a thick book, oblivious to your plan. His brow furrowed in concentration, a small smile playing on his lips as he skimmed the pages. You took the opportunity to tiptoe closer, hiding behind a row of shelves, waiting for the perfect moment.

Finally, when Spencer rounded the corner, deep in thought about which book to buy next, you jumped out, arms raised in mock menace. “Gotcha!” you shouted with glee.

Spencer yelped, his eyes going wide in surprise as he stumbled back a step. For a split second, his brain went into overdrive, trying to process the sudden "threat." But then, his startled expression melted into laughter. “You’re ridiculous!” he chuckled, shaking his head at you, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, your giggles filling the quiet space between the rows of books. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug, your face pressing against his chest as you felt his warmth seep into you. 

“Maybe,” you said with a grin, looking up at him, “but you love it.”

Spencer’s smile softened, his arms coming around you as he held you close. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “I do,” he murmured, his voice gentle, full of affection. “I really do.”

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, the world fading away as the quiet of the bookstore enveloped you. Spencer's hand moved up to your back, rubbing slow circles as you soaked in the comfort of the moment. There was something magical about being here together, surrounded by the books he loved and the peaceful intimacy of just being with each other.

After a few moments, you pulled back slightly, your playful grin returning. “Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, “what book are we getting?”

Spencer's eyes lit up again, and he immediately turned his attention back to the stack of books he had been eyeing. "Well," he began, his voice taking on that enthusiastic tone you loved so much, "I’ve been looking at this one on the history of cryptography. It has some fascinating insights into early codebreaking techniques used in ancient times, and—" He caught himself, his eyes flickering to yours as he smiled sheepishly. “But I’m not sure you want to hear me ramble about that.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him and placing your hand on his arm. “I always want to hear you ramble, Spence,” you said sincerely. “Tell me all about it.”

His eyes softened, and for the next few minutes, he explained the intricacies of the book, his voice animated and full of passion. You listened intently, loving every second of seeing him so in his element.

After Spencer finished his enthusiastic information dump, the way his eyes lit up while talking about cryptography and ancient codebreaking made your heart swell. You couldn't resist the urge any longer. Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips pressing softly against his, filled with all the affection you felt in that moment.

Spencer blinked in surprise, a grin slowly spreading across his face as you pulled back. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone playful, though his cheeks flushed pink from the unexpected kiss.

You shook your head, smiling warmly as you looked into his eyes. “I just love you so much,” you said softly, feeling your chest fill with warmth at how easy it was to be with him, how completely in love with him you were in moments like this.

His grin softened into something more tender, and his hand found yours on the table, squeezing it gently. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and that same vulnerability that always made your heart flutter.

—

The next time you found yourselves in an intimate position, the energy was different. The tables had turned, and now it was Spencer’s turn to be vulnerable, to bare himself completely to you. As you stood together in the hallway, you could feel the shift in the air, the weight of the moment pressing softly between you two. 

“Spence, are you sure?” you asked gently, guiding him by the hands into the bedroom, your fingers brushing lightly over his knuckles. “There’s no rush, baby. We can take our time.”

Spencer paused, meeting your gaze with a nervous but determined smile. His heart was pounding, but he trusted you—more than anything. “Yeah,” he said, giving you a small nod. His voice trembled slightly with nerves, but his eyes were soft with affection. “You showed me yours, I’ll show you mine, right?” He laughed, albeit a bit awkwardly, trying to lighten the tension.

You smiled back, your heart swelling with love for him. “Exactly,” you said softly. “But only if you’re ready.”

He nodded again, more confidently this time. “I’m ready.”

Once inside the bedroom, the atmosphere felt warmer, more intimate. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the space, and as you stood in front of Spencer, you gently reached for the buttons on his shirt. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling quickly as you carefully unbuttoned the fabric, your fingers brushing over his skin as you went. 

With each button undone, you let your hands glide over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. You couldn’t resist the urge to lightly trace the curve of his sides, your touch featherlight as you tickled him just enough to make him giggle.

Spencer’s reaction was instant—his eyes squeezed shut as a small, surprised laugh escaped him, his hands quickly grabbing yours to still them. “Behave,” he playfully warned, his face flushed but full of affection.

You laughed softly, loving the way his guard was down, how he trusted you so completely in this moment. “Sorry,” you teased, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his collarbone, your lips brushing against the smooth skin. “I couldn’t resist.”

He let out a soft hum, his fingers still holding yours but more gently now, as if to anchor himself. He was nervous, you could tell, but he was also present, allowing himself to be open with you in a way that made your heart swell.

As you helped him slip off his shirt completely, you took a step back, your eyes scanning his body with nothing but admiration. Spencer’s vulnerability in this moment only made you love him more. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but he was doing this for you, for both of you, and that meant the world.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice sincere as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. “You don’t have to be nervous with me, Spence. I love all of you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, the tension in his body easing slightly as your words settled over him. He leaned into your touch, his hands resting gently on your waist as he let out a small, relieved breath. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of gratitude and affection. “And I love you, too.”

Spencer took a deep breath as you carefully removed the last of his clothing, leaving him completely bare before you. The tension in the room was palpable, but you couldn't resist easing it with a light-hearted joke. “Can I look this time?” you asked with a teasing grin.

Spencer laughed, the sound nervous but genuine, and it was enough to break the heavy silence hanging over you both. “Yes,” he replied, his voice still a bit shaky. “You can look.”

So look you did, your eyes trailing down his body with genuine admiration. And when your gaze settled, you couldn’t help but let out a playful gasp, your tone incredulous. “You’ve been hiding this from me? Are you kidding, Spencer?”

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face for a brief second. “What? Is it… is it bad?” His voice trembled, the insecurities he’d tried so hard to suppress bubbling up to the surface again.

You immediately shook your head, moving closer to him, gently pushing him to lie back on the bed as you sat beside him. “No, baby, it’s not bad,” you reassured him softly. Your hand reached out, wrapping around him gently, and Spencer’s body tensed at the sensation. “It’s really not bad.”

“Ah—fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips instinctively bucked upward. It was the first time he had ever felt someone else touch him like this, and the overwhelming sensation sent shivers through his entire body. His breath hitched, and his hands fisted in the sheets, the intensity of the moment almost too much for him.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, your thumb gently brushing over his tip as you whispered, “You are so pretty, baby.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, his face flushing as he absorbed your words. The mix of vulnerability and pleasure left him almost speechless, his mind reeling as you continued to touch him, each movement slow and careful. He had never felt anything like this before, and the way you handled him with such care only made him fall even more in love with you.

As your hand moved with gentle strokes, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering between kisses, “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

Spencer’s groans turned softer, his body melting into the bed beneath you as he let go of his fear, letting himself trust in you completely. “I love you,” he murmured breathlessly, his voice laced with both awe and gratitude.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, knowing that this was more than just a physical connection—it was a moment of deep trust and love between you both.

You took your other hand, softly stroking Spencer's thighs, your fingers trailing gently over his strong, lean muscles. His body, always so unassuming beneath his clothes, was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. The way his thighs tensed under your touch made your mouth water, a thrill running through you as you explored this new side of him.

“Your body is so beautiful, Spencer,” you murmured, your voice tender and full of affection. “I hope you never hide it from me again.”

Spencer’s breath hitched at your words, his face flushed as his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, but also a growing confidence, fueled by the love and desire you showered him with. “I-I didn’t know,” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, “that you’d think that.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his thigh, feeling his body tense beneath your lips. “Well, I do. And I always will.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hand reaching out to grip your arm, needing something to ground himself as the intensity of your touch overwhelmed him. “You’re… amazing,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you continued to caress him.

You smiled against his skin, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. “I’m just showing you what you deserve, Spence.”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as your hand shifted from his thigh to gently cup his balls, rolling them softly between your fingers. His breath stuttered, and his body instinctively arched off the bed, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white as he fought to hold on for just a moment longer, but it was no use. His back arched further, his hips jerking as he reached his peak, a loud, unrestrained moan escaping his lips as he came.

“There you go, baby,” you whispered softly, your voice soothing, filled with nothing but love and reassurance. “Let it go.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over him. He felt vulnerable, exposed, but not in the way that used to scare him. This time, it was different. This time, he felt safe with you, completely open and raw, knowing you wouldn’t judge him.

He tried not to feel embarrassed as the aftershocks pulsed through him, knowing full well he didn’t last long—especially not when it was you touching him like this. But there was something comforting in the way you held him, in the way your hands never faltered, even in moments like this. You didn’t mind.

And that reassurance made all the difference.

As he slowly came down from his high, Spencer let out a long, deep sigh, his body sinking into the bed beneath him. He blinked up at you, his cheeks still flushed, his breath still uneven. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t last long again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but there was less hesitation this time.

You smiled gently, brushing a hand through his messy hair and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Spence,” you said softly, your tone full of affection. “You know I don’t mind. I love you exactly the way you are.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at your words, the lingering tension in his body slowly dissipating. He gave you a small, shy smile, his hand finding yours and squeezing it lightly. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

You lay beside him, pulling him into your arms as his body finally relaxed, his breathing evening out. You continued to stroke his hair, the gentle rhythm calming him as you whispered sweet reassurances. And in that moment, Spencer realized just how lucky he was—to have you, to feel this safe, and to be loved in a way he had never known before.

—

It was the kind of lazy Sunday morning that begged you to stay in bed, curled up in soft blankets with no obligations pulling you away. The sun streamed lazily through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room, but the promise of fresh pastries and coffee was too tempting to ignore. The two of you reluctantly peeled yourselves from the comfort of the bed, Spencer stretching languidly while you threw on something cozy for your impromptu breakfast outing.

The local bakery was a short walk away, and as you strolled hand-in-hand, the air crisp with a touch of autumn, you could smell the fresh bread and sweet confections wafting through the air long before you even arrived. The warm scent wrapped around you like a comforting hug, and Spencer squeezed your hand gently, smiling down at you as the two of you walked in step, enjoying the quiet simplicity of the moment.

Once you stepped inside, the small bakery was bustling, the display case filled with perfectly baked croissants, éclairs, and muffins, each one more enticing than the last. You and Spencer made your way to the counter, excitedly picking out a selection of pastries along with two steaming cups of coffee.

After grabbing your tray of treats, you found a little table tucked in the corner by the window, where the morning light spilled across the tabletop, catching the powdered sugar that had already dusted the surface. You sat down, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as the two of you settled into your seats, a quiet bubble of comfort surrounding you amidst the hum of the bakery.

The moment felt perfect, simple in its beauty, as you and Spencer started tearing into the pastries, the flaky layers scattering crumbs across the table. You picked up a piece of your croissant, the sweet filling spilling out, and with a playful grin, you held it up to Spencer’s lips. 

“Here, try this,” you said, your eyes twinkling with amusement as you offered him the bite.

Spencer leaned forward, always eager to try something you loved, but as he took a bite, he purposefully let some of the creamy filling smear across his lips. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking your head as you leaned over the table to wipe it away with your thumb. 

“Messy,” you teased, your voice full of affection as you swiped the pastry cream from his lips.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, am I?” he said with a grin, and before you had a chance to react, he swiped some frosting from the sticky cinnamon roll and playfully dabbed it on your cheek.

“Now you’re messy,” he declared triumphantly, his smile widening as he watched your eyes go wide in surprise.

You gasped dramatically, reaching up to touch your cheek and finding the sticky frosting smeared across your skin. “Spencer!” you protested, laughing as you grabbed a napkin to clean yourself up, but not before flicking a tiny crumb in his direction in retaliation.

He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! No more food fights,” he said, though the grin on his face made it clear he was enjoying every second of your playful exchange.

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the kind of uninhibited joy that made your sides ache and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the crumbs covering the table, not the frosting still clinging to your face, not even the curious glances from the other patrons. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own world of love, playfulness, and laughter.

—

The local library had always been Spencer's sanctuary, a place where he found comfort in the stillness, surrounded by shelves filled with knowledge, each book a portal to another world. He had spent countless hours there over the years, developing close bonds with the librarians who worked there. So, when the head librarian’s birthday party was being celebrated, Spencer was eager to bring you along, excited to introduce you to the people who had been a significant part of his life for so long.

As you walked through the library doors, Spencer’s hand tightly holding yours, you could sense how much this place meant to him. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a lightness in his step that spoke of his deep connection to this space. The library wasn’t just a building filled with books—it was part of his identity, a place where he found peace, knowledge, and belonging.

The event itself was small, intimate, just a gathering of close friends, staff, and patrons who knew the librarian well. Balloons were strung around the circulation desk, and a small table was set up with cupcakes and tea. The room buzzed softly with the chatter of people who clearly adored each other, and the air was filled with the smell of old books and sugary sweetness. It was simple, but it felt special, like you had stepped into a warm, welcoming corner of Spencer’s world.

As you entered, Spencer’s excitement was palpable. He gently tugged you along, his face beaming as he navigated the crowd with ease, weaving through the maze of bookshelves toward a small group of people near the front desk. The closer you got, the more you could feel his pride radiating from him.

Finally, you reached the librarian, a kind-faced woman in her sixties who immediately lit up when she saw Spencer. She welcomed him with open arms and a big smile. “Spencer!” she exclaimed warmly, her eyes twinkling with genuine affection. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Spencer smiled back, his hand never leaving yours as he took a step closer. “Of course,” he replied, his voice soft but full of enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t miss it.” Then, with a hint of excitement, he turned to you, his eyes sparkling with joy. “This is Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with love and pride as he introduced you. “I’ve been dying to introduce her to you.”

You could feel the weight of those words, how much it meant to him that you were there with him in this special place, sharing a piece of his world.

The librarian turned to you, her warm smile widening as she reached out to shake your hand. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she said with a knowing grin, her eyes flicking back to Spencer for a moment. “He never stops talking about how wonderful you are.”

Spencer blushed instantly, the pink flush creeping up his cheeks as he squeezed your hand just a little tighter, embarrassed but clearly proud at the same time. “She’s pretty amazing,” he said softly, glancing at you with such affection that it made your heart swell.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, your chest fluttering with warmth and love. In that small, cozy room filled with Spencer’s friends and colleagues, you felt like you were truly a part of his world, welcomed into the parts of him that were private, cherished, and deeply personal.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in easy conversation, with Spencer introducing you to more of the people who had become like family to him over the years. You could see how much they cared for him, how deeply they admired his intelligence and gentle nature, and how excited they were to meet you. Every introduction was filled with kind words and warm smiles, and each time Spencer’s hand remained in yours, his grip a reassuring constant, a reminder that this moment was as important to him as it was to you.

Later, as you both stood by the cupcake table, Spencer absentmindedly brushing crumbs off your chin from the chocolate cupcake you’d indulged in, you caught him watching you with a soft, almost reverent expression. “What?” you asked, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks under his gaze.

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a tender smile. “I’m just really happy you’re here,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible above the low hum of chatter in the room.

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “I’m happy to be here,” you replied softly. “I love seeing this side of you, Spence.”

He leaned down and kissed you gently on the forehead, his thumb stroking your hand as he pulled back. “You’re a part of it now,” he whispered. “A part of all of this.”

And in that moment, you felt like you truly were. Spencer’s world, filled with books, warmth, and the people who had shaped him, now included you. You were building something beautiful together—slowly, steadily, and with every shared experience, you were growing closer, learning more about each other, and weaving your lives together in ways that felt as natural as breathing.

—

Spencer had returned to the nightclub feeling confident and secure in your relationship. After all the beautiful moments you had shared—bookstore dates, Sunday mornings filled with laughter and pastries, intimate nights spent wrapped in each other's arms—he thought nothing could come between you two. But as soon as he stepped back into the club, all of that confidence started to erode.

At first, Spencer tried to keep calm, to enjoy the night as just another visit to your world. He watched you from across the room, smiling and laughing with the staff and customers. But then his gaze landed on Sean, who was standing much too close to you, his body language too familiar, his laugh too casual and comfortable. Spencer’s stomach churned, but he kept it to himself, telling himself that it was just work—that Sean had no place in your personal life. 

But then it happened.

Spencer saw Sean’s hand casually smack your ass. You had your back to Spencer, so you couldn’t see his reaction, but you laughed at Sean’s action, clearly finding it harmless. You didn't think twice about it, but Spencer's vision blurred with a sudden surge of anger. His blood boiled, his breath caught in his chest, and every rational thought flew out of his mind. The sight of someone else—Sean, of all people—touching you like that felt like a punch to his gut.

Before he could stop himself, Spencer stormed across the club, his footsteps heavy with intent. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into tight fists as he closed the distance between you and Sean. He didn’t care about the crowd or how it might look. All he could see was red—his insecurities and fears bubbling up to the surface with a force he hadn’t expected.

By the time he reached you, Sean was laughing, clearly oblivious to the brewing storm that was Spencer. Without a word, Spencer grabbed Sean by the collar, pulling him toward him with more aggression than he’d ever shown before. The music in the club seemed to dim in Spencer’s ears, and the people around him faded into the background.

“Don’t you ever touch her like that again,” Spencer growled, his voice low and dangerous, the words spilling out before he could even process them.

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to see Spencer—his face twisted in anger, his usually calm and collected demeanor gone. You had never seen him like this before, never seen him this furious, this close to losing control. You quickly stepped between them, putting a hand on Spencer’s chest to stop him from doing something he’d regret.

“Spencer, stop!” you exclaimed, your voice laced with confusion and concern. “What are you doing?”

But Spencer’s gaze was locked on Sean, his grip on the bartender’s collar tight. Sean, for his part, looked stunned but didn’t fight back, raising his hands in defense.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, man,” Sean stammered, trying to defuse the situation. “It was just a joke.”

But to Spencer, it wasn’t a joke. It was a direct assault on everything he feared—the fear of not being enough, the insecurity that had been festering inside him since the day he first saw Sean. And now, all that pent-up jealousy and anger was pouring out in one destructive moment.

You could feel Spencer’s chest heaving beneath your hand, his breathing ragged as he stood there, frozen in his fury. Your heart raced, and you knew you needed to stop this before it escalated any further.

“Spence,” you said softly, trying to get through to him. “Baby, please let go. This isn’t you.”

For a long moment, it seemed like he hadn’t heard you, his eyes still boring into Sean’s. But then, slowly, the tension in Spencer’s body began to ease. His grip on Sean’s collar loosened, and finally, he let go, stepping back and running a shaky hand through his hair. His face was still flushed with anger, but the look in your eyes—hurt, confused, pleading—cut through the haze of his rage.

Spencer glanced between you and Sean, suddenly aware of what he’d done, of how far he’d let things go. Guilt washed over him like a cold wave, and he took a step back, his hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the thumping music. “I didn’t mean to…”

But the damage was done. You stood there, still in shock, trying to process what had just happened, while Sean backed away, clearly wanting to put some distance between himself and the situation.

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of what had just unfolded. Spencer—your Spencer—had never acted like this before. And as much as you wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, you couldn’t ignore the heaviness in your chest, the weight of what had just happened.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes wide with regret, but all you could do was stare back, unsure of what to say, unsure of what came next.

The tension in the air was palpable as security started making their way over, eyes locked on Spencer with the clear intent of handling the situation. Your heart sank even further, realizing that this night had spiraled so far out of control. Before you could say anything, Sean held up a hand to stop them. “It’s fine, Steve,” Sean sighed, shaking his head. “We’re good.”

But his words didn’t ease the knot in your chest. You looked at Sean, “Are you?” Then at Spencer, who stood there looking lost and ashamed. “Are we?” you muttered, your voice heavy with sadness. Without waiting for an answer, you turned on your heel and walked away, unable to even look at Spencer right now. The weight of his actions, of what had just happened, was too much to process in that moment.

Spencer’s heart dropped as he watched you walk away, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with every step you took. “Y/N! Please wait!” he called after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You were too overwhelmed, too upset. He chased after you, his feet moving quicker as the panic set in. “Sweetheart, please!” Spencer begged, following you all the way back into your office.

You stepped inside, your hands shaking as you slammed the door shut behind you. The lock clicked into place, but before Spencer could say another word, you whirled around, the anger and frustration bubbling over.

“He’s fucking gay, Spencer!” you yelled, the words coming out with a mix of hurt and exasperation.

Spencer froze, his face falling in utter confusion. “What?” he stammered, blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of what you just said.

“I didn’t tell you because it’s not my place,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of the emotions swirling inside you. “And frankly, it doesn’t fucking matter, but Jesus, Spencer!” You raised your hands in disbelief, the frustration too much to contain.

Spencer stood there, his mind racing as he tried to grasp what you were saying. “I—I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice weak, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know… I just, he slapped your—your butt, and I saw red. I lost control.”

You ran a hand over your arm, trying to calm yourself down, trying to make sense of why this had gotten so out of hand. Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there as you asked, “Spencer, you’ve seen my friends do it all the time. Hell, your team smacks your ass, and it’s all in good fun. How is it different?”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes dropping to the floor as guilt washed over him. He didn’t have an answer—at least not one that made sense. The truth was, it wasn’t different. But somewhere in the haze of his jealousy and insecurity, he had convinced himself that Sean was a threat. That somehow, Sean’s friendship with you, the easy banter and playfulness between you two, meant he had something Spencer didn’t. And tonight, all of that had come crashing down in the worst way.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his shame. “I—I guess I just got scared. I got jealous. I didn’t think.”

You shook your head, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t think at all,” you muttered, your voice tinged with disappointment. “You didn’t trust me.”

Spencer winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him harder than any reprimand could. “I do trust you,” he said quickly, stepping forward, his hand reaching out for yours. “I trust you more than anyone. I just… I let my insecurities get the best of me. I know it was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, rubbing your temple as you tried to process everything. You wanted to believe him, to believe that this was just a one-time mistake, but the hurt still lingered. “Spencer, I love you,” you began, your voice softer now, but still firm. “But you can’t keep letting your insecurities drive you. I’ve told you time and time again—there’s no one else. No one but you.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I know that, I do. But when I saw that… when I saw him touch you, it just—everything I’ve been feeling came to the surface. And I’m so sorry I didn’t handle it better.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the desk, still trying to calm your racing heart. “You scared me, Spencer. I’ve never seen you act like that.”

He stepped closer, his face full of regret, his hand reaching out again as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to scare you. I just… I messed up. I know I did. Please, sweetheart, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t walk away from me.”

You looked at him, his eyes filled with guilt and desperation, and you knew he meant every word. Spencer was never one to lash out like this, never one to let his emotions get the best of him. But tonight, his insecurities had taken over, and now you both were left picking up the pieces.

After a long moment, you took a deep breath and nodded, your voice steady but still firm. “You need to work on this, Spencer. This jealousy, this need to protect me from something that isn’t even there. We can’t have this happen again.”

“I will,” he promised, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. “I swear to you, I’ll work on it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please… forgive me.”

"You need to go apologize to Sean," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "And maybe... maybe you should think about seeing a therapist or counselor. This—this kind of insecurity, it’s not healthy for you or for us."

Spencer nodded, his head hanging low as he absorbed your words. He knew you were right. He had let his own fears and jealousy take control, and now he was faced with the aftermath. "You're right," he repeated, his voice tired and remorseful. "You’re absolutely right."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. His mind was racing, filled with guilt and the weight of what he had done. He knew he had crossed a line, and it hurt to think that he had not only disrespected Sean but also hurt you in the process.

"I’ll go apologize right now," Spencer said, his voice steady, though there was a slight tremble beneath the surface. He looked at you, his eyes filled with regret, but also determination. He wanted to make this right. Not just for you, but for himself.

You gave him a small, encouraging nod, knowing that this was a step in the right direction. "Good," you replied quietly. "But Spence, don’t just apologize for what you did—make sure you understand why you did it. That’s the only way this is going to get better."

"I know," he said softly, his hand reaching out to take yours, squeezing gently. "I’ll fix this. I swear."

You watched as Spencer turned and walked toward the door, his shoulders slightly slumped with the weight of everything he had to face. As he left the office, you let out a long breath, hoping that this moment would be a turning point. For both of you.

Spencer walked up to the bar with hesitant steps, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of what he needed to do, the guilt and embarrassment swirling together in a tight knot in his stomach. As he reached the bar, he stood there for a moment, awkwardly waiting for Sean to notice him. His palms were sweaty, and he rubbed them against his jeans, trying to calm himself.

Finally, Sean approached, clearly still a bit shaken from the earlier confrontation, but his expression was guarded, more curious than angry. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer to speak.

“H–hi, Sean,” Spencer stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked up to meet Sean’s briefly before dropping back to the floor, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I… I am so sorry for what I did earlier.”

Sean’s face softened slightly, though his guard didn’t completely drop. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter, waiting for Spencer to continue.

“I completely overreacted,” Spencer admitted, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I let my jealousy get the best of me, and I said and did things I never should have. You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t… I didn’t even know the whole story, and I just assumed the worst.”

Sean stayed quiet for a moment, studying Spencer. He could see the sincerity in Spencer’s eyes, the regret etched in every line of his face. Finally, Sean let out a soft sigh, uncrossing his arms.

“Look, man,” Sean began, his tone more understanding than Spencer had anticipated. “I get it. I’ve seen guys lose it over jealousy before. But that doesn’t make what you did okay.”

Spencer nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “I know,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s not okay, and I regret it. Y/N means everything to me, and I let my insecurities cloud my judgment. I’m not trying to make excuses… I just wanted to apologize.”

Sean leaned back slightly, his arms resting on the bar as he gave Spencer a small, almost sympathetic smile. “I appreciate the apology,” he said. “Just… maybe work on not jumping to conclusions next time, alright?”

Spencer nodded vigorously, his heart still racing but relieved that Sean hadn’t completely written him off. “I will,” he promised, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “I’m going to talk to someone about it. I’m… I know I need to deal with this.”

Sean nodded, his expression easing a little more. “Good. And just so you know, man, I’m not interested in Y/N. Like, at all.” He gave Spencer a meaningful look, letting the words sink in.

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah… I, uh, I know now. I’m sorry I ever thought otherwise.”

Sean let out a small chuckle, shaking his head and gave Spencer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re good. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Thank you, Sean,” he said quietly, feeling a weight lift from his chest. “I really appreciate it.”

Sean offered a small smile in return. “No problem. Take care of her, alright?”

Spencer nodded again, his heart swelling with a renewed sense of determination. “I will,” he promised, meaning every word.

And with that, Spencer turned away from the bar, feeling lighter than he had when he’d first walked up. He still had a lot of work to do, but this was a start—a step in the right direction.

—

Spencer navigated his way carefully through the hallway, dodging the maze of moving boxes that now cluttered the apartment. The feeling of excitement from his therapy breakthrough still thrummed inside him as he called out for you. 

“Y/N!” he shouted, eager to share his day.

“In the bedroom!” your voice echoed back warmly.

As he pushed past the last of the boxes, Spencer entered the bedroom and found you sitting cross-legged on the floor. A box of printed photos lay open in front of you, and scattered around were dozens of pictures, some slightly faded with time, others bright and new. You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, your cheeks glowing from a mixture of nostalgia and emotion.

“What do you have there, sweetheart?” Spencer asked gently, his voice filled with warmth as he crouched down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You sniffled and smiled, holding up one of the photos—a snapshot of the two of you from a Sunday morning at the bakery, crumbs on your faces, laughing uncontrollably. “All of our memories,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I found this box while I was packing. I didn’t realize we had so many photos together.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at the sight of the old pictures and the happy tears in your eyes. He gently took the photo from your hand and studied it for a moment, the joy from that day flooding back to him. He remembered the way you had fed him pastries, how you had teased him for getting frosting on his nose, how perfect the world had felt in those little moments.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve made a lot of good memories, haven’t we?” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over the scattered photos.

You nodded, blinking back the tears as you picked up another picture—one from the bookstore, where you had sneakily snapped a photo of him deep in thought, completely absorbed in the world of books. “I never want to forget any of this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything the photos represented.

Spencer sat down beside you, his heart full as he looked over the memories you had collected. “Hey,” He said softly, taking your hand in his. “I had a breakthrough at therapy today.”

You looked up at him, your tear-filled eyes widening with interest. “You did?”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. I think I’m finally starting to understand where all that insecurity came from… and how to manage it better. I’ve still got a lot of work to do, but… I’m getting there.”

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, pride swelling in your chest. “Spence, that’s amazing,” you said, your voice filled with love and encouragement.

He squeezed your hand back, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve been so patient with me, even when I wasn’t always patient with myself.”

Your eyes widened at his words, the weight of the question sinking in as you looked up at Spencer. The room seemed to still for a moment, the sound of your breath catching in your throat the only noise breaking the silence. You blinked, trying to process what he had just asked, your heart racing in your chest.

“Will you marry me?” Spencer repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less certain. His eyes were filled with love, vulnerability, and a touch of nervousness, as if he’d been carrying this question for a while, waiting for the right moment to let it out.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time from pure joy. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you took in the sincerity of his expression. He wasn’t just asking for a promise—he was asking to continue writing the rest of your story together, side by side, forever.

You cupped his face with your hands, your heart swelling with love and excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer let out a breath he was holding, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he pulled you into a deep, heartfelt kiss. Relief, joy, and love coursed through him all at once, making the moment feel surreal. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let you go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were laughing through the tears, caught up in the magic of the moment.

“You really want to marry me?” you teased gently, your forehead pressed against his, your fingers lightly brushing his cheek.

“More than anything in this world,” Spencer said, his voice full of conviction. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you nodded, still in awe of how this moment had unfolded. “I want that too,” you whispered, “forever.”

Spencer kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the sweetness of the moment, the promise of a future filled with more memories, more laughter, more love. And as you sat there, surrounded by the snapshots of your shared past, you couldn’t help but feel excited for all that was yet to come.

You pulled back from the kiss, a playful glint in your eyes. “And hey,” you teased, running a hand through his hair, “maybe you can wear white at the wedding.” Your smirk deepened as you watched Spencer’s expression shift from one of love to amusement.

Spencer threw his head back, laughing loudly, the sound filling the room and making your heart flutter. You always loved how his laugh could light up any space. “I have one problem with your plan,” he said, still chuckling, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? What’s that, honey?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, fully enjoying the banter between you two.

Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and full of playful confidence as he said, “I don’t plan on being pure for much longer.”

You burst into laughter, your cheeks flushed from both the teasing and the thrill of the moment. “Oh, is that so?” you teased, leaning into him, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”

Spencer grinned, his blush deepening as he kissed you again, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “I guess we will,” he murmured against your lips, his tone both playful and full of promise. 

The two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the lightness of the moment mingling with the deep love you shared. It was another memory added to the many you had created together, and you couldn’t help but feel that your future, together as partners, was only just beginning.

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[yieldtotemptation]

ALWAYS ft. Hanni

hanni x male reader smut

9k words

This used to be your least favourite part of the day.

Waking up alone, to nothing but an alarm that’s far too loud, a bed that’s way too firm, a dorm room that mocks your financial instability with its harsh coldness. 

And that somehow, was the best-case scenario.

Beating getting kicked out of a library after passing out face first in a textbook, or booted off your best friend’s mouldy couch when his girlfriend wanted some alone time.

Or even, in your worst moment, getting yelled at by some stranger when you’re discovered on their bathroom floor in a pool of what you prayed to God was your own vomit.

All things of the past, since her.

Since Hanni—waking up was everything.

-

It starts, like it always does, in a tangle of limbs.

Most mornings, with Hanni’s face buried in your chest, cradled in your embrace, small puffs of breath tickling your neck. Others, with her back to you; pulling your arms around her, using the heat of your body like her coziest blanket.

One time on top of you; an exhausted smile plastered on her face, still basking in the afterglow of the night before.

She wrapped herself around you, refused to let go. Like there was a possibility that if she held you tight enough, she could bring you into her dreams.

That was the first day you truly saw her.

You talked about your pasts, your futures, shared your deepest vulnerabilities, made a million quiet confessions.

And when Hanni whispered: “I never want to go back.”

You pulled her closer, kissed her, and answered: “You’ll never have to.”

Since then, every morning always started with you holding her. Feeling her softness, her warmth, the calm rise and fall of her chest, as her exhales became your inhales and your breaths mixed together and synchronised.

This is how it had to be—how you both needed it to be.

So—now:

Nights and mornings since that promise; the sound of a guitar slipping into your ears.

It’s a recording she made for you, setting it as your alarm to make waking up a little more pleasant, to make sure the first thing you thought of when you opened your eyes was her.

Unnecessary, ultimately, seeing as the first thing you see when you wake up is her. Or, to be precise, her arm poking out from under the blankets, flailing about blindly.

“Off,” Hanni mumbles, fumbling around the bed, the nightstand, your face, seeking the offending device.

You stretch over her, a blanket on top of her blanket, and hunt down the invisible enemy that dared to interrupt your girlfriend’s peaceful slumber.

A muffled “thanks”, and she takes the opportunity to snuggle even closer.

There’s the smile quirking at the corner of her lips. Her nose, nuzzling closer into your chest, searching for your heartbeat. That pleased hum she’s making, letting you know there’s no place she’d rather be, like she’s completely content to stay all cozied up and warm for as long as you’ll let her (forever, if possible, please).

It’s hardly a tough sell—face the cold shower, the crowded buses and trains, the boring lectures that the rest of the day holds.

Or, stay wrapped up in the sanctuary of your (Hanni’s) bed. In fitted silk sheets, weighted duvets, plush pillows. Wrapped up in Hanni; in her very soft, very warm, very naked body.

It’s a no-brainer, really.

The rest of you, the more honest part of you that’s resting somewhere between her belly button and her thighs, seems to agree. It’s got a mind of its own, stirring to life, responding to the heat of her skin and the gentle pressure of her body; the familiar lines of her curves and the lavender scent of her hair.

She notices, of course.

It’s hard not to feel it, nudging against her, steadily growing with each passing beat, saying, ‘Hey, remember me?’

A kiss over your heart, a giggle into your sternum, and she’s up—sort of. She rolls onto her side, still in your embrace, but enough so that you can see the wry smile gracing her face, her sleepy eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

Chalk it up to whatever you want—relationship goggles, the honeymoon phase, or just the sheer joy of finding someone who actually cares about you—but when Hanni's looking like this, it's hard to believe you’re not dreaming.

The morning light kissing her rosy cheeks. The gentle pink of her full lips. Midnight silk hair curtaining her face. Her eyes.

A sweet, completely innocent question: “Having a good morning?”

She shifts, slightly.

An oh-so-incidental move that has the blanket sliding off her shoulder, down to her waist. It’s an invitation that you take, a proper wake-up call, from her collarbone to the curve of her hip. Softness and warmth, a stark contrast to the cold that whispers from the edges of the bed.

Hanni—your Hanni—leaving you with the implication: ‘Can I make it better?’

“Classes,” is all you say, because you have to at least acknowledge the responsibility, play the farce that you would actually abandon your (again—very warm, very naked) girlfriend for the sake of academia.

“It’s cold outside,” is her astute observation.

“Mhm.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“Right,” you nod.

“So,” she starts, bringing her hand up to your cheek, walking you through the incredibly simple, blatantly obvious logic. “Do you need any other reason?”

“Are you offering me one?”

Lips purse then pouts in that endearingly cute, Hanni way. “Does it help that I’m naked?”

“One would think that more clothes would be appropriate, considering the weather,” you posit, like you weren't already convinced long before she even opened her mouth. But, it’s still fun to pretend that her persistence doesn’t melt you every time. 

“One would be wrong.” Hanni edges closer, her bare skin gliding over yours, so you can properly assess the merits of her argument. The tip of her nose brushing against your own, the softness of her breasts passing along your chest, and her hand at your cheek, then your neck, your stomach, and moving lower, and lower. “Body heat, you know?”

Her hand gets lower still. You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Like when it’s freezing and people get lost in a snowstorm.” She finds you, reaches into the waistband of your sweatpants, wraps her fingers around you, wakes you up.

“Or when girlfriends are trying to convince their boyfriends to stay in bed all day long,” you groan out. “Again.”

“Exactly,” Hanni says, a breezy air of finality, proud of herself for making you see reason—or rather, feel it.

You kiss her forehead, conceding the victory to her, and she scrunches her nose; preens. It’s a subtle movement, the kind that you’ve come to recognise as her victory dance. She squeezes your body closer to hers, her cheek squishing into your chest, her other hand wrapping around your neck, her legs curling up around your calves. It’s like she’s absorbing your affection, turning it into warmth she’ll keep with her for the rest of the day.

Her hand winds up and down, these long, lazy motions. Smooth and tender, stroking the length of you, her thumb tracing the vein that pulses along the side. She’s not in a hurry; not anymore anyway. Just, enjoying the moment, enjoying being with you, enjoying how obvious you are with your sighs and shivers.

“‘sides,” Hanni adds, taking a break to kiss around your jawline, your neck, your shoulder. “You deserve it. A perfect day of nothing.” She sounds so hopeful, so earnest, and there’s a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the friction of her hand on your skin. “We can order junk food, watch awful horror movies, and…”

“Just us.” A finger under her chin to tilt her head up, to capture those half-moon eyes with yours, to kiss her sweetly, deeply, remind her that she’s all you need to make a perfect day. “I wonder what I’ve done to earn this.”

“Not what you’ve done,” Hanni says in the breaths between your kisses. “What you’re going to do.” 

With that, she uses all her weight to push you, rolling you onto your back, climbing over you with a grace that leaves you breathless.

She straddles you, legs draped over your hips, small breasts bouncing just a little with the motion. There’s mischief lighting up her eyes, that playful glint that precedes all good things. The blankets fall completely off her with a dramatic flourish, leaving her bare and exposed for your eyes to drink in.

A pause to appreciate her—to really look at her. From her flushed cheeks to the tips of her toes. Every curve, every darkened freckle, every soft, sweet inch of her—yours to adore, to touch, to explore.

And then, she winks.

You can’t help but laugh.

Hanni joins you, giggling in uncontrollable fits.

It’s the ridiculousness of it all, of Hanni—the girl who blushes when you hold her hand in public—straddling you with a wink and a promise of a day of pure carnal indulgence.

You both laugh until your cheeks hurt, until the tension breaks and you’re just two people in the cozy bubble of her bed, sharing a stupid, silly moment.

It takes a beat, but you both somehow recover, gasping for air between giggles. She settles herself, placing her hands on either side of your face, looking down at you with all the adoration in the world. Her touch grounds you, brings you back to the present.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You ask, when you’re finally able to speak. “This is what you really want to do all day?”

“Well…” Hanni muses, sinking down to your waist, running her fingers over your t-shirt, stopping when she has the hem in her clutches. “A bit of this.”

She starts rolling your shirt up, sliding the cotton over your stomach. The cold air of the room kisses your skin before the warmth of her mouth replaces it. Her soft, plump lips meet your body, the small indent of your belly button.

Simple, innocent, playful. Hanni.

“A bit of that,” she continues, her hands keep moving, lifting the shirt higher, tugging it up and up, exposing your chest to her eyes, her lips.

She finds her target, a tongue over your nipple, paying you back for what you’re no doubt going to be doing to her later; flicking over your chest to make you hiss.

“A bit of me,” she adds, words vibrating against your chest, leaving goosebumps as she rises higher.

You lift your arms, allowing her to pull your shirt off your body, trapping you for a moment so she can suck at your neck, mark you as hers, and hers only. As if you didn’t already wear it on your face whenever she’s around.

“Doing a lot of you.”

Her eyes rake over you—your chest, your stomach, your abs. Lingering a touch too long, making her cheeks warm; colouring them with a soft blush that spreads from her neck up to her ears, hinting at the thoughts racing through her mind.

And then you're kissing her.

It’s gentle (your kisses always are) but that doesn’t make it any less passionate, any less intense.

She kisses you back, lips sliding over yours, the softness of her tongue tracing the line of your teeth, moaning your name in short stutters into your mouth.

It feels so right, so natural. The way she fits against you, feels on top of you, the perfect puzzle piece you’ve been desperate to find in a world full of mismatches.

It’s far too early to say it, but you know it—have known it.

You love her. Love how she lives in the moment; how even when you’re worried about the future, about deadlines and tomorrows, she can bring you back to the present and make things simple. In the least selfish way possible, she makes it about her.

(And that’s all you need).

It builds and builds; these slow, dragging kisses, these admissions of things that you’re not quite ready to say. Until you’re both well and truly needy for a touch more heat, as much of each other as you can possibly get.

You can’t hold it anymore, so you don’t bother trying.

With a firm grasp, you take Hanni’s hips in your hands, your thumbs pressing into vanilla skin as you pull her upward. It’s strategic, pull the best parts of her (which could be any part, really) closer, prove her earlier guess right by introducing her breast to your lips, her nipple to your tongue.

A million times you’ve repeated it and it won’t be enough—she’s so soft. Melting at your touch already, so responsive, letting you know she’s feeling it with every hushed gasp and shiver of her tight body.

One hand is filled by her other breast, a supple handful, spilling between your fingers, carelessly massaging as your mouth latches onto its twin. Her heart races, hammers against your palm, quickening with every passing flick, with each chaste suck between your lips.

Your other hand snakes lower, caressing the smooth plane of her stomach. You drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of her abs, down towards the juncture of her thighs.

She squirms.

Moans a little louder.

Scrapes the back of your scalp and pulls you in.

You’re insistent, your touch feather light as it grazes over the whispers of hair; trailing all the way down, down, where you ghost over her mound, tease her clit to make her gasp.

“Like that,” Hanni moans her approval, answers you with hips rocking against your hand. “So, so… nice.”

Your hand dips down further, parting her folds, sliding through her slick, greeted with the warmth and wetness of her opening. Soaking your hand, inviting you to delve deeper.

“Hanni,” you mouth around her nipple, “you’re so wet.”

“O-of course,” she manages, shuddering as you dare to ease a finger inside, pushing into her and pushing out a cry that fills the room. “It’s you.”

“It definitely is,” you confirm, stroking her walls with slow, deliberate care, feeling her tense around you with each movement. “And I’m just getting started.”

Her body arches, curves into you, tilting her head back and feeding you more of her; her breast into your mouth, her pussy on your fingers. You look up at her, feel her, memorise every little noise she makes, every twitch of her body as you touch her. Her breath skips as you start to move your finger in and out, a quiet pace to make her hips dance.

“This is a good idea.“ You’re pushing in deeper, adding a second digit to the mix, stretching her just so. She’s tight around you, always so tight, enveloping you in her heat, and there’s the urge to go even slower, to savour every moment. “Staying in all day. Making you feel good.”

Her legs tense, toned thighs flex as you curl your fingers up, pulling towards you just right to hit that spot that makes her mouth hang open, that makes her whine. There’s a plea in there, a silent request for more, for everything.

And you give it to her, because it’s what she deserves, because it’s what she’s asking for, because she’s yours.

She’s getting tighter around you, walls squeezing in. A prelude to something beautiful, something only you know how to give her, a skill you’ve picked up in this very same bed.

“God,” Hanni’s breaths are turning into short gasps, she’s so needy for it, for you. A slight tug of your hair, pulling you off her breast, forcing her nipple to ‘pop’ from your lips. She sinks down, further down onto your hand, her breasts dragging against your chest, her skin sticking to yours. “You’re such a tease.”

Her lips hang in front of yours, pillowy cushions begging for its partner—needing you to kiss her, now. You claim her mouth, let her be as loud as she wants on your lips; these delightful sounds when your hand moves faster, more insistent.

Arms hold you, wrap around your back, hugging you tighter, needing you to be as close as humanly possible. Hands everywhere—massaging your back, gripping in your shoulders, tangled in your hair, grabbing at your biceps—no matter how much of you she has, it’s just not enough.

Pliant is the other word to describe Hanni; so easy in your hands, like clay waiting for your touch. Waiting for you to mould her into whatever you want, even though you prefer her as she just is—all her perfect imperfections, beautifully flawed, wonderfully Hanni.

Another finger pushes into her; three now, moving in a steady rhythm, that slow, cautious manoeuvre that’s become so familiar. Sure, you could do it with your eyes closed, bring her to the brink and back with touch alone, but you’d miss the way she looks at you—the tears at the corners of her eyes, the tremble in her lips; like you’re her saviour, her everything.

“Hanni, you’re so—” you can’t put it into exact words—gorgeous, pretty, lovely—you test them out, but they all fall short, leaving you hanging until—

“Yours,” Hanni finishes, and that’s all you need, all you need to hear to make a vow to do everything in your power to keep her happy, to keep her here, to keep her—“always yours.”

She’s rocking on your fingers now, taking charge of her own pleasure, setting the pace that you so willingly match. It’s a give and take, and you take the chance to kiss at her neck, to nibble on the shell of her ear, to whisper to her all the things that create these little tremors in her thighs, that make her grip you tighter and tighter with each stroke.

She feels so good, so warm, so wet. Your hand is soaked, knuckles coated in her, making these noises. The muffled pop of skin on skin; the soft, sticky sound of wetness being parted; that satisfying squelch as you go in deep.

Hanni’s so close. So, so close.

Unwinding, melting in your palm; and that look. The way she smiles when she’s on that edge, because she’s so happy to be there, so happy that it's you that has her to be feeling this good.

But then—it’s the suddenness that gets you—she goes rigid, stops moving, begs, “Wait, wait, wait.”

It’s so unexpected, but you still do stop, fingers lodged inside her, pulsating with the urgency of her orgasm that’s just a heartbeat away.

She needs to hang onto you, to hold onto something as the world starts to spin again. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks a rosy pink that makes her look like she’s been running a marathon, sweat glistening over her, bathing her in this glow.

You look up at her, a soothing kiss on her cheek. “Problem?”

“No,” Hanni manages a gasp, reassuring you with a shaky smile, still doing her best to catch her breath. “I mean yes. I mean… It feels too good.”

You tilt your head. You smirk. “That’s a problem?”

“You always do this, you know?” Hanni chooses her words carefully, trying to break out of the haze of having almost been there, so she can properly articulate. “Make it about me when it’s supposed to be about you.”

You stifle your laughter against her neck, letting it vibrate through her skin. It’s her earnestness, really, that gets you sometimes; her concern for you, even now is too much, almost comical.

“I’m serious!” Hanni protests, though she’s betrayed by the wobble in her voice, that part of her begging to just let you do your thing and push her past the precipice. Her eyes flutter shut as she breathes in deep, trying to compose herself. “I want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.”

Logic that you can’t argue with, not when it’s wrapped up in that sweet, sweet smile. You still attempt, though, “Hanni, making you feel good—”

“Makes me feel good—yeah, I know how it goes,” she finishes the line for you. “But, just. We have all day, so—"

There’s a point that’s finished by her kiss, specific in its tenderness, stealing whatever witty reply you had ready from your mouth.

“Let me start by taking care of you.”

It’s like you said—Hanni Pham, making it all about her, in the least selfish way possible.

You relent, bowing out to her whims.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Hanni nods, satisfied with your compliance. She takes your wrists into her hands, guides them away from her body to keep them at your sides. “Just relax.”

It’s a strange feeling, letting go, letting her be the one to dictate the pace, the rhythm of your morning. You watch her, watch the way her eyes wander over you. She’s fascinated, like she can’t make up her mind of where to start.

But she does, eventually.

Her gaze settles on your arousal, standing proud and waiting underneath your sweatpants.

“How about I start—” a light kiss on your lips, and she’s slinking down to your waist, tugging at the string of your pants, “right here?”

A kiss on your stomach, just above your navel, her fingers slipping between your waistband and your skin. They pull at the fabric, dragging it down with care until it’s pooled around your thighs. Your cock springs free, and there’s this gasp she makes—like she hasn’t seen it a hundred times before.

“You’re so big.” Hanni’s in awe, her voice hushed, reverent almost. It’s always been something she says, something that makes you blush—swells the ego that you like to pretend you don’t have. “I still have no idea how this fits inside me.”

“It fits perfectly, remember?”

“Mm, I know, but—" she can’t find the words, so she settles for the next best thing, “damn.”

She’s smiling—always smiling—and you can feel her breath on you, light and sugary, these little pulses of anticipation tingling through your skin.

You hold your breath, waiting for her touch, waiting for her lips, waiting for her to finally take you in.

But she doesn’t. She’s just looking.

“Hanni,” you say, giving your cock a teasing flex, brushing it against her cheek. It’s a light prod to break the spell, to remind her of the task at hand.

“Oh!”

It’s getting unbearable, your cock just inches from her mouth, straining to reach her lips. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.“ She presses another kiss to your skin, a little nibble to your inner thigh that makes you jolt. Her hands skim over your legs, pushing your sweatpants down further and further, down your thighs, over your knees right until it’s stuck at your ankles, thwarting her attempted sensual seduction.

She makes this frustrated 'argh!’ at the minor struggle. Very cute. Also a little ridiculous.

"Help, please?” She looks up at you, expectantly.

You acquiesce.

“Aha!” Hanni cheers, slightly louder than she may have intended, having won her battle against your pants. She catches herself, blushing, flashing a cheeky smile.

God, you’re going to fall in love with her all over again.

“Oh right. I mean, are you ready?”

So casual in how she says it, covering for her fumble. It makes you want to laugh—except you can’t, because before you can even open your mouth, she’s already leaned in, pressing her plush lips against the tip of your cock.

Lightly, so light it makes your hairs stand on end. A calculated tease, right hand around your cock, stroking your length. Her left reaches up, laces her fingers with yours. A squeeze, a preview of what’s to come.

You can’t help but twitch under her.

It's her lips, mapping a trail of kisses down your shaft, leaving a warm, sticky mess of pre-cum that she’s quick to lick away. It’s how she’s looking at you—so focused, like she’s been learning, been studying you, creating a personal database of everything that makes you tick.

But above all else it’s just the simple fact that she’s doing this for you, because she cares about you. Because she wants to make you feel good.

It’s all of it and it’s working.

“This is much nicer, isn’t it?” She asks, not really expecting an answer, because she knows it’ll be a resounding yes.

She’s playing with you, not giving you exactly what you want, but just enough. Her hand wrapped around the base of your cock, stroking you from root to tip, thumb circling your head with enough pressure to drive you insane.

It’s pain and pleasure wrapped up into one perfect package, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

You let her know as such: “Actually quite torturous, to be honest.”

“But it’s the good kind of torture, right?”

“There’s a good kind?”

“We’ve got all day to find out,” Hanni teases, taking a fistful of her own hair in her hand, looping it into a tight, messy bun; preparing herself—giving you a final chance to do the same.

Hanni takes you into her mouth.

It’s not a sudden plunge, not a surprise attack bringing you straight to the back of her throat—it’s a slow, slow descent that has you gritting your teeth and biting back a groan.

It’s hot. Wet. Heavenly. You can feel every inch of your cock being coated in her saliva, her tongue dancing around your shaft, her cheeks hollowing out, her lips creating the most exquisite suction.

When she reaches as far as she can go, fills her mouth with as much of you as she can take, she starts to move back up. Slowly, so you can feel every little bump of her tongue, every little drag of her teeth.

Her hand joins in, moving in tandem with her mouth, stroking the parts of you she can’t reach. She’s trying to find the perfect balance, trying to find that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

Hanni’s no pro at this, her technique is in no way perfect—but she’s so willing, so keen to please. She takes her time, getting used to the feel of you in her mouth, her eyes peeking up at you every so often to gauge your reaction; studying your face for any sign that she’s doing it right, that she’s doing it well.

It’s adorable, really.

And oh, so hot.

You give it to her again, reassure her, “So good, baby,” because it is—your hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth.

It takes her off guard, but she does her best to adapt; she’s trying not to gag, trying to take it all in. She’s a fast learner, your Hanni.

Your compliment serves its purpose—she’s getting more confident now, her tongue gliding along the underside of your cock, tentative, exploratory. It’s clumsy, yes, but it’s cute, and most importantly—it feels good.

She’s concentrating, her attention entirely on your cock; her lips sealed tight. Each time her head bobs down, she takes you in deeper, millimetres, but still, deeper and deeper.

And it’s the sound of her sucking you in, getting sloppier, filling the room with those noises, the soundtrack to your morning. She’s getting bolder, finding her rhythm, building her pace. It’s not precise in any way, shape or form—sometimes she’s a little too rough, sometimes she misses the beat—but the effort.

A harsh suck has your cock popping out of Hanni’s lips, strings of her saliva still connecting her mouth to you. She looks up at you, wanting to check in, still needing that hit of validation, “Is this—is this good?"

You stroke her hair, let her lean into your touch. "Unbelievably. You’re doing great.”

“But I can make it even better, can’t I?” She asks, the determination setting in her features, and she’s staring straight into your eyes, hopeful, “Tell me. Tell me how you want it.”

It’s not a demand—it’s a question, a plea for guidance; she’ll do whatever it takes (whatever you want) to get you there. And it’s the sight of her, straddling your thighs, kneeling before you; those full lips hovering just about your cock, her hand lazily pumping away, keeping you there.

Somehow, you manage to get the words out, a rough whisper, “Take me deep, Hanni. As far as you can go. Take me all in. Show me how much you want it.”

It’s the instruction she’s been waiting for; she’s nodding before you’ve finished, so willing to oblige. It’s that part of her that you’ve discovered, the part she might not even know herself. But it explains so much.

(Hanni: the teacher’s pet, always needing to excel. Competitive, desperate for the highest grades in school, the top evaluations in training; desperate for you to tell her that it’s her and only her.

That’s what makes her successful. That’s what makes her eager.

And now that you’ve put the challenge before her, she can’t wait to prove herself.)

She takes a deep breath, swirls her tongue around the tip of your cock, dipping her toe into the water before she dives right in. It’s like she’s playing it out in her head, memorising the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you; mapping out the best way to take you all the way in right before she breaks you.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

And she goes for it.

Her mouth opens wide, eyes locked on yours, and she takes you in again.

Deeper, throat tighter.

Her eyes water a little, and she coughs, retreating. But she’s unfazed—still smiling, still eager.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay.”

You stroke her cheek, act like it’s not already far more than you can handle. “Take your time, baby. No need to rush.”

A deep inhale, and she's trying again.

It’s a process, her getting used to you, your size, your taste, the way you make her throat bulge. She’s slow, tentative, but with every stroke, with every gulp, she’s getting closer. Her cheeks hollow out more, her eyes water a little less, and she moans.

You can feel the anticipation building in your chest, your balls, the sweet ache of your orgasm just around the corner. And she can feel it too, your body tensing under hers, your breaths turning shorter, sharper.

The fifth time, she hits the back of her throat, and she stops—holds herself there, panting. It’s a moment of victory, a declaration that she’s got it right, that she can take all of you, just like you asked. Your cock is nestled at the back of her throat, there’s more tears now, but she’s smiling with her eyes, looking up at you through her lashes.

It’s so intense. You groan. Your hips jerk. “Good, baby, so good—don’t move.”

The look on her face, the satisfaction, the pride.  

She swallows around you, working the muscles in her throat, pressing her tongue flat against the underside of your cock; it’s too much.

“Ha-Hanni—keep doing that—keep swallowing—it’s perfect—so perfect—”

It’s a struggle, but she does it, takes it all in, holds it there—just for you.

Her hands are at your thighs, grasping—not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know she’s there, that she’s with you. She coughs, gags, sputters bits of drool down your cock, but she keeps going.

And then, she pulls herself up, needing the air, pulling back with a long gasp; leaving a mess. Your cock slides out of her mouth, springing from her lips; her cheeks a vivid shade of red, glistening with lines of tears—beautiful, just indescribably beautiful.

“Was I good?” She’s asking out of courtesy, really. You’re sure whatever dumb look you’re wearing on your face is more than enough to confirm it.

But you nod and choke a ’Yes’ anyway, because you’re a gentleman, and words of affirmation are just as sweet as the act itself.

“I can do better.”

And before your mind can even catch up to what she’s saying, she’s sucking you back into her mouth. Now that she’s proven herself, she just has to push it even further, show you just what she’s capable of.

This time, she’s more assured, more confident. Her hands are at your hips now, holding you still, like she’s worried you’ll get away.

You won’t, of course. You couldn’t even if you tried.

Hanni’s bobbing her head; these long, deep sucks that have your fingers tangling in her hair, have you urging your hips to meet her mouth. Her eyes are watering more, she’s gagging more often than not, but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps moaning around you, keeps going and going.

She takes her hands off your hips, sliding one down to the base of your cock, holding it steady as she works you over and over. The other finds your balls, balancing them on her fingertips, rolling them around her palm. She’s figuring it out, figuring you out far too quickly, and it nearly has you coming undone.

And through it all, she’s grinning.

It’s a twisted, slightly pained grin, but it’s a grin nonetheless. She’s found her new favourite hobby, and she’s determined to show you just how much she enjoys it.

“I love this,” Hanni slurs against your cock, not really to you, not really to herself, just saying it out loud because it’s true. “I love being able to do this to you, making you feel so good.”

She’s saying these things, these simple words like they’re not dangerous at all, like whispering them against your cock is so harmless, like they don’t have the power to completely destroy your resolve.

“I love that it’s me,” Hanni keeps going, even when her tongue is occupied with licking you, lapping up your balls, the underside of your shaft. “I love that I’m the one who makes you feel this way.”

Gone is the shyness—she’s so smug now, so proud of herself, so in love with the fact that she has you exactly where she wants you: in her mouth, at her mercy.

It’s in the way she’s sucking you, her eyes closing, her hums of pleasure every time she takes you in—as deep as she can. She’s getting hotter on top of you, just from having you in her mouth, from taking you into her lips again and again.

Grinding herself into the mattress, needing a bit of friction, needing more. And that’s when she pulls away, panting for breath.

“Hanni?” You ask, finding your voice, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“It’s too much,” she admits, breathless, her hand still wrapped around your cock, stroking you gently, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s too much.”

There’s a shift in the air—in Hanni. Usually, typically, soft. Now wild, desperate.

She’s climbing up you, back on your hips, her wetness smearing onto your skin, her thighs trembling on either side of yours.

"I need it, I can’t wait anymore. I just can’t.”

The suddenness, the urgency in her voice (in her body). Hanni, flushed, practically shaking with need.

“I need you—now.”

It’s so tempting—you could give in easily. And yet, there’s something in how she’s asking you, how she’s using innuendo in place of propriety, dancing around saying what she really wants in plain, explicit terms.

It’s not enough.

She’s already got you on the edge, so close you can almost taste it. But you need to hear it from her. Your sweet, adorable girlfriend, saying something so dirty it’ll make your knees buckle.

So, you sit up, shifting slightly so she’s still straddling you, face to face. Cradling her cheek with one hand, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes; so you can look at her—take in all the tiny beautiful inflections that make her your Hanni.

“What do you need?”

Always with the blushes, but she holds your gaze, not breaking it even when you run your hand back down south, reaching to slip a finger through her folds, finding her still so wet and swollen. She gasps, but she doesn’t look away.

“Tell me, Hanni,” you coax, your finger moving in gentle circles, watching her face, watching the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches.

Hanni stutters, “You—I want you—need you—". But you just chuckle, slow down the pace of your finger, giving her a taste of the frustration she’s unintentionally been dishing out.

“Not quite specific enough. What part of me do you want?”

She’s biting her lip, squirming under your touch—she’s not used to this. Not used to anything outside of the usual playfulness, the sweetness; the gentle strokes and soft whispers. But something has you feeling different today.

Maybe it’s the excitement of trying something new. Maybe it’s how unusually forward she’s being. Or maybe, just maybe, part of you has always wanted to hear her beg.

She blurts it out: “Your—your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?” You press, stroking her clit now; her chest heaving, these tiny whines escaping her, and the way she’s looking at you. Like she’s getting ready to pounce.

“Please—just—please, I need—”

“Need me to slide it in slow?” You suggest, kissing her neck, her perfect, porcelain skin. “Give it to you nice and deep?“

Hanni’s rolling her hips on you, grinding herself against your hand, trying to get through to your cock, trying to will it to enter her.

“Go ahead, be honest.”

She’s bothered. Annoyed—almost angry, if that’s even possible for her. Like how could you? How could her kind, loving boyfriend go out of his way to put her in such agony.

“Tell me, baby. What does Hanni want?”

“I—I need your cock inside me—I want you to—” Hanni swallows takes a deep breath.

A final push: “Say it.”

“Fuck me, hold me and fuck me. Deep, hard, slow—however you want just fuck me now.”

The words come out in a rush, spilling out of her lips. Even she’s surprised as she’s saying them, in disbelief that she’s even capable of saying something so filthy out loud.

But she’s not taking it back, she’s not apologising.

No, she’s taking hold of your hand, moving it out from between her legs, and replacing it with your cock, daring you to stop her.

Like you could ever.

You push in, inch by delicious inch, watching her face contort, features twist, feeling her stretch around you.

It’s the same every time—it feels like the first time all over again.

Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth parted in a wordless plea, and you’re moving so slow. So slow that she’s whimpering, begging, hips trying to push you deeper. But you keep it steady, setting the tempo, let her get used to the feeling of being made whole by you again.

“Oh, oh, oh—” Hanni pants, trying to keep her voice down, but it’s pointless. She’s failing already, loosening a strained 'fuck' when you bottom out, when your cock is finally, completely inside her.

You hold her like that; your arms around her, hugging her tight, her breasts squished against your chest. She’s so small in your arms, so soft, so warm; her pulse racing against your own, lapping it twice over.

“You okay?” You ask, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“More than okay,” she sighs, holding onto you, moulding her body onto yours. “More than okay—just need a minute to adjust. Don’t worry about me—you can—you can make me feel good.”

So, you do.

Lifting her body off you, unsheathing your cock from her warm embrace, until only the tip is trapped in her wetness. Then: guiding her back down, a touch quicker, harder, deeper. And there’s that gasp as she takes you back in, as you fill her.

You’re moving with purpose now, her walls tight and wet and hot around you, clenching and releasing in time with your slow, deliberate thrusts.

Hanni’s breasts bounce in front of you, up and down with every pump, small peaks begging for attention. You’re kissing them again, sucking one into your mouth, suckling on the pink tips.

“So beautiful,” you’re repeating it, speaking it into her skin, because it’s all that’s on your mind as she takes you in. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And she looks it too, even though she’s not even trying; with her hair falling out of her bun, sticking to her face with sweat and saliva, her mouth hanging open, swollen and red from your kisses, her body writhing and jerking with every thrust.

Yet she remains focused, eyes glued to yours, like she’s afraid if she looks away she’ll miss something. Like if she doesn’t keep watching, she’ll wake up and find out it’s all been a dream.

But it’s not.

It’s you and her, in this bed, the sun peeking through the curtains, her naked body riding yours, hotter and hotter with each pass.

It’s you and her, together, wrapped up in each other making love like the world outside doesn’t exist.

It’s you and her, and it’s—

“So perfect—you feel so perfect,” Hanni finishes your thought for you, finishes each of your thrusts with her own hips; opening her body up to you, welcoming you in deeper with each stroke. “I think I’m gonna cry it feels so good.”

Her legs lock around your back, heels digging into your spine, until you’re fully seated inside her; so deep it feels like you’re a part of her. With a whine that’s half pleasure, half need, Hanni braces herself on you, rolling her hips on your cock, grinding down, taking as much of you as she can.

You grip her tight, one hand around her back, the other under her ass, fingers squeezing into the soft, tender flesh. Bouncing her up and down, watching her face as she takes you, as she keeps repeating ‘so perfect’.

And you know, you know she’s not just talking about the physical—that’s definitely there. It’s how you’re making her feel, it’s the connection. The way you’re looking at her, the way you’re holding her, the way you’re loving her that has her floating.

“I-I think I’m ready,” Hanni whimpers, “I can take it—you don’t need to—don’t hold back anymore.”

With a grunt, a nod, and a choked ‘Hanni’, you’re sweeping her up, keeping your cock buried deep inside her as you lift her. Your hand cushions the back of her head as you lay her down on the bed beneath you, her legs spreading wide on their own to accept you.

A moment to steady herself, to prepare.

A smile. A kiss on her forehead.

And then you’re in, all the way, again. Completing her pussy with your cock; one swift motion that knocks the wind out of her in the sound of your name.

“God—Hanni—”

It shouldn’t be like this—it should be impossible to be this much hotter, this much wetter, this tight.

But she is.

She’s squeezing herself around you, muscles, thighs flexing. Eyes shut, mouth wide open because there’s no way to stop from crying out; and her body, her lovely, perfect body, arching up to meet your every thrust.

You give it to her.

You’re building up speed, stretching her wide, hips moving in that perfect rhythm you’ve discovered together—the one that makes your name echo off the bedroom walls.

Hanni’s whimpering, mewling, whining, “Tell me—tell me how good it feels.”

You tell her everything—how tight, how wet, how perfect she is. You praise her, shower her with very compliment that comes to mind. She eats them up; her lips leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, her fingers on your back, her hips swallowing you whole.

But Hanni still needs more, needs to hear more. Not just that she’s good, not even that she’s perfect. She needs to hear that she’s only yours.

“Like heaven, Hanni,” you manage, your voice hoarse, strained. “So perfect for me. Only me.”

“Really?” Hopeful. Ecstatic. So turned on.

“Always,” you repeat, the truth echoing in your voice and across her skin. “Always so perfect.”

“Mmm,” Hanni moans, nodding along, soaking in every word that flows freely from your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Hanni. Your pussy is so perfect.” You kiss her again, a little harder this time, a little more possessive. “I love how you fit around me.”

Her breath catches in her throat, there’s that spark in her eyes, and she’s taking you deeper, urging you on. “Oh-oh. Keep talking—please—keep talking.”

“Made for me, aren’t you Hanni?” You continue, the steady stream of praise and admiration, caressing her as surely as your cock in her pussy. You can’t get enough, can’t get over how perfect she feels, how right it is to be inside her. “Like a perfect glove around me.”

Her eyes meet yours, her smile shy as she whispers your name. Whispers it like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only word she knows (like it’s the only thing that can give her peace).

She’s so close, getting there, it’s in how she’s pulling you closer; with her arms and her pussy. How she’s saying please, with a little quiver in her voice, alternating it with your name when you hit that spot just right.

“This feels so good, but-but-I think—” Hanni’s voice cracks, even now, still so shy, so adorable. She’s gasping, out of breath, trying her best to string the words together. “C-can I? Can I please cum?”

It’s all you need to hear. You kiss her, hard and deep, push into her. “Of course, baby,” you say, “Do it. Do it for me. I want you to cum for me.”

The effect it has on her—how it ripples across her face. She’s so thankful. So, so thankful for your permission, for what you’re doing to her. “Then please—please don’t stop.”

Harder, faster, deeper now—making her unravel beneath you. Hands holding her in place, feeling her, feeling her tense, quake around you.

Keep going, because she’s almost there, because she’s repeating it, that desperate ‘please’, over and over again.

‘Please-please-please’—with every thrust, saying it without saying it, with every clench of her walls, with every little gasp she lets slip.

Because that’s what she is—who she is—at her most honest, her most vulnerable. Pleases and thank yous on her lips, a constant stream of gratitude for you, for being here with her, for making her feel so much.

“Thank you,” Hanni manages, words almost a moan. “Thank you for making me feel like this, for making me feel so—”

But she can’t finish the sentence, can’t find the words to explain the storm that’s building inside her. So she just says it again, rising in pitch each time as the pressure builds. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you—’

Her nails dig into your shoulders, the first time she’s ever inflicted anything close to pain on you; begging you to stay in place, to not move, to not pull out. You feel her need, feel it in your bones, feel it from the heat of her pussy.

“Feels so—” Hanni’s crying, sobbing now, trembling uncontrollably. You’re holding onto her, deep inside her, giving all the time she needs to let it out. “—so good, so deep, so, so much—”

She gasps. She tightens. She screams.

Hanni’s voice breaks off into a keening wail as it all comes crashing over her; and you don’t stop, can’t stop, can’t do anything but keep her tethered to you as she loses herself to her climax.

“Please—don’t pull out—please—don’t stop—please—please—please—”

She shudders, clenches around you, pussy tightening in the sweetest way possible. It’s that look on her face, saying everything she can’t manage to say, everything she can’t put into words—how much she loves you, how much you complete her, how much she needs this.

It’s a wave, pulling you under, and you let it take you, let it sweep you away until you’re drowning in the feeling of her coming apart around you, under the heat of her eyes and the grip of her body.

Her juices all over your cock, her pussy spasming around you, that blissful agony on her face. Hanni’s so sweet when she cums, so damn gorgeous, it just takes your breath away. She’s perfect, so perfect it hurts.

And as she comes down, as she rides out her orgasm and kisses your name into your lips, she begs of you, once last time: “Your turn.”

With strength you didn’t know she still had, her legs pull you in, anchoring you to her. Her walls pulse, her body begs for you to follow.

And you do.

“Give it to me, please, cum for me, love—”

You let go. Let the tension in your body melt away as you thrust into her one, two, three more times. Until you’re releasing, until you’re cumming, until everything’s white-hot pleasure and Hanni on your tongue.

Load after load inside her, a hot, deep stream that leaves you groaning, that leaves her sighing, panting, joyful. Filling her up until she’s complete, until she’s overflowing.

You cum hard and fast, and Hanni tries her best to keep up, tries to take it all, and she’s smiling—laughing even, the joy of making you feel this good lighting up her features.

“H-Hanni—” you try, your cock twitching inside her, your cum spilling out of her and onto the bed, onto your thighs.

She’s kissing you, kissing your neck, letting you make your mess; your glorious mess of cum and sweat and saliva and her.

It feels so good, everything feels so good about her, everything she’s doing. She’s holding you so tight, so greedily, shivering with every throb of your cock inside her, savouring every moment of your release.

There’s a moment of silence, where you just lay there, bodies entangled, hearts racing, breaths mingling. Just looking at each other, basking in the thickness of sex and satisfaction.

And Hanni smiles, so wide it could split her face in two, a smile that says she’s never been happier.

Then, with a sigh, she relaxes, her legs loosening, ankles unlocking behind you. You roll onto your side, pulling her with you, keeping her close. She’s still with you, still keeping your cock inside her, and you can’t help but feel like this is it.

This is home.

“Best. Morning. Ever.”

She laughs. “I don’t want to get up. Don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

“I don’t think I can get up,” you admit somewhere into her hair.

And then it hits you. Something in the air, something in the light hitting her naked body, something in that blissful expression on her face.

It spills out of you before you can stop it: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, to read your face. “Careful, we’ve got all day for that kind of talk.”

But she doesn’t protest as you hold her tighter, feel the warmth of her body, the smell of the skin, the way she nests into your side. Fitting perfectly—like she’s always been there.

So yeah, you may have said it too early, but whatever.

Today’s the day for breaking normal rules and codes of conduct.

For breaking routines. For her.

For the promise of a long day filled with nothing but lazy kisses, whispered secrets, the sweet taste of her skin.

For staying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, forgetting the outside world.

For more of this. Of Hanni. Of this perfect, perfect feeling.

So, you stay there. Not moving, not speaking. Just holding onto the moment, as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky.

And as your eyes start to drift close, as you sink into the comfort of the mattress, with her in your arms and on your mind, and you’re thinking this day couldn’t get any better, Hanni whispers:

“Idiot. I’ve always been in love with you.”

[chiscaralight]

nsfw kinich x reader i have a request for this but i cant find it in my inbox😭

kinich isn’t one to get jealous easily. honestly it pisses you off a little bit. not that there’s anything wrong with being secure in your relationship.. it’s just a little weird. but nothing that with bother either of you too much. or so think.

because it ends up being the littlest things that creep through his calm demeanor, making his eye twitch just the slightest bit as you converse with an adventurer from another nation. and he manages to calm himself for the most part, pushing how easily the conversation flows between the two of you to behind his mind while he stands off the the side, waiting for whatever stupid exchange you were talking about to end so you guys can finally leave. but when ajaw materializes beside him, purposefully saying something about how you look happy talking to that damn adventurer. he decides enough is enough and grips your wrist to drag you away. of course you protest, but his mind is made up and his steps are heavy and direct back to his house.

hes almost throwing you through the door, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang as you finally find your balance. what is his problem today? but the only answer you’re met with is his lips hard on yours. the gasp of surprise you let out is just enough for him to shove his tongue into the warmth, claiming your tongue as his, just like he’s going to do with the rest of your body today.

and you’re so sore, covered in teeth marks and hickeys as he rams into you from behind. you stopped counting orgasms long ago, brain inflated with overstimulation as the only thing you can hear him mumble is mine, mine, mine over at and over again. you’re whining into the sheets, cunt leaking with a mixture of your essence and his cum that he’s been pumping you full of since the first time he came.

you’re almost sure your head is full of mush now, because when you raise your head up, the only thing you can get out is-

“m’ all yours.. all yours kinich,”

and he whines, pressing his chest flat onto your back as he comes for the nth time. he’s the one shaking now, arm wrapped around as he fucks the rest of his orgasm into you. it’s a split second before he’s falling off to the side, barely missing the opportunity to fully lay down on you with all of his weight. not like you would have cared, you’re entirely spent anyways you make sure to turn to face him though, cupping his warm face in your hand as you close your eyes.

“he really was just asking for directions. who would’ve thought you’d get this worked up, hm?”

the only response you get is a huff and a hand over yours, his body moving closer to you as you start to lose yourself to the exhaustion.

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[luveline]

jade!! I come on hands and knees begging for more rockstar!remus with shy!reader. I LOVE THEM. how are they doing?!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You fit the part, tonight. Marlene has dressed you in her clothes —you wear a dark jacket covered in gothic, skeletal linework, a skirt barely long enough to show beneath it, with black tights and tall shoes. 

Remus isn’t sure what it is about the slightly too big jacket that he likes so much. Maybe it’s your thighs on show, shadowed flanks of softness he knows too well. It could be your eyes, their ringing of dark kohl, your lengthened lashes. Perhaps it’s none of those things. After all, Remus has always loved to watch you laugh. 

James thrusts his pint against yours, a splash of his cherry cider lapping the end of the cup to seep into your lemonade. Remus is unsure if there’s anything in it of substance, but you sip it through a breathless laugh and confirm that it hasn’t changed. No harm, no foul. 

Remus taps his cigarette carton against the table out of habit. Sirius reaches for him before Remus has even split the seal, fingers pinching, pale hand expectant. Remus knocks into them with the carton and turns so Sirius can’t see him opening the box. “Thought you were off them?” Remus asks, quiet with the slower atmosphere at the table, so far from the bar. 

“Can anyone ever really be off them?” Sirius asks. 

He pressed himself into Remus’ arm, all the overfamiliarity of a best, best friend. Searching for comfort and selfish vices. 

Remus hugs him suddenly, a rough arm around the back of his head in a hold that tugs curls as he uses the other hand to slide a cigarette between his lips. “Here, you baby.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says around it. 

Remus takes his own cigarette and shoves the box back in his pocket. Sirius lights his own, lights Remus’, and together they tip their heads back, getting a glance at the oranging ceiling and the upstairs drinking pit. 

“She’s sweet, letting Marl dress her up a bit.” 

“Makes Marlene feel better,” Remus says. 

“Yeah, it does. Reckon she and Mary will mend it?” 

Remus shrugs. The love triangle between Mary, Marlene and Dorcas is confusing. He loves them, though, so it’s a confusing he understands. “It won't be long before we find out.” 

You, James and Emmeline begin to make your way back to the table. You have two drinks each, too many for the amount of people, though none of you seem to have noticed. You’re just giggling and meandering around low chairs until you get there. 

James slams his drinks down and grabs you from the side. “My sweethearts, I return the sweethearts.” 

“Can I have one?” Emmeline asks. 

Remus passes her the cigarette carton dutifully. 

“Can I–”

“No,” Remus says. 

You squint at him. “Don’t be weird,” you say, embarrassed, taking the box when Emme passes it, sliding it between painted lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

You talk around the cigarette with the ease of practice. If there’s one thing life on the road gives, it’s addiction. Remus is thankful that you and all of your friends chose nicotine. 

“You’re trying to quit.” Remus feels the funny burn of smoke as he inhales again. “And I’m trying to help you.” 

“Same help you gave Sirius, clearly,” James says. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, opening his arm for you. “Come on.” 

You grin and weave around Emme to his side of the table, propping a drink in front of him. “For you.” 

“Thank you.” He blows smoke as far from your face as he can manage and tucks you under his arm. 

The makeup on your lips is rubbing off, a darker outlining with light insides, but it’s enough to express Marl’s taste. Remus will be happy to kiss the rest of it away later on, when James and Sirius are drunk enough to become openly obsessed with one another and leave him alone, carving out some rare alone time. 

You smoke as Remus taught you to. He remembers the day, your shaking, his chest pain, not wanting to corrupt you and yet enlivened by the way you looked trying to foster the flame at the end of it. Nicotine helps calm your nerves, which you’re often in need of, but Remus never meant for it to become a crux. He snuffs his cigarette in the ashtray and catches yours to do the same, barely two puffs in. 

“Wha–”

“Let me have a look at you,” he says. 

Your friends scoff and jeer but quickly move on. Remus catches your chin between his fingers. 

He’s not like Sirius. He couldn’t do this to any girl, can’t seduce like that, but it’s not any girl he touches. Your eyes go to swimming pleasure as he pulls you forward, edging downward to kiss you. You both taste of smoke, of drink, and it would put him off if there wasn’t something sweeter to be chased in your mouth. He kisses you like there’s no one at the table but you.

He’s had more to drink than he thinks. 

“You taste like jaeger,” you say, pulling away with cheeks he’d find hot if he were to cradle and a shy smile. 

“Do I?” 

“That’s a thousand times worse for you than those, you know.” You point at his quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes. 

Remus curls an arm behind your neck and kisses you again. James cheers, says, “Fuck, I wish Moony kissed me like that,” and Remus tries his best to ignore him, but you’re laughing. The kiss breaks.

“Just ask him nicely like I do,” you advise. 

“You know that doesn’t work!” James says, tipping his head back with a hand to the forehead. “I always ask him nicely, he just doesn’t want to kiss me. Must be something about you…” He gives a huge smile as he lifts his cider.  “Something I don’t have?” 

“Impossible,” Sirius says blithely, “you’ve everything, gorgeous boy.” 

“Something about you,” Remus echoes. 

You shake your head minutely, a silent warning. Don’t flirt with me, it says. Don’t torture me. 

“How do you want the answer?” Remus asks, sliding his arm back behind your shoulders, pulling your burning face against his neck. “I can give it to you in an essay or a list, but it’s an extensive explanation.” 

“Write it down for me.”

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

with a hand on the back of your head and another holding your throat, nanami curses under his breath, the sight of you gagging around his cock so filthy that the usually composed man has his knees threatening to buckle from underneath him. 

sweat trickles from the side of his face and there’s a deep shade of blush spread across his nose and cheeks, hiding the freckles you love so much. even the tips of his ears burn, the pleasure blooming everywhere under his skin as he rocks his hips against your face. the first buttons of his dress shirt are undone, a few hickeys already starting to darken on his skin from you nipping at him before dropping to your knees. he’s been working so very hard, and you just want him to let off a little steam – he just needs a bit of a push sometimes. 

so with you sat on his lap, sucking on his earlobe while pleading for him to take a break, it was impossible for him to say no. how could he when he’s got an angel in his arms, playing with his hair and kissing his neck ever so sweetly – he’s a weaker man than he thinks. 

when you slithered down between his thighs and stared up at him with big, hungry eyes, he found himself loosening his tie, his mind already beginning to cloud with the nastiest thoughts. 

ghosting your fingers over the growing bulge in his slacks, you rested your head against his thigh with a mischievous smile etched onto your lips. “c’mon, ken… i want to make you feel good.”

your words come out as a purr, as a siren’s call – you always have been a little tease, always the one to make him break and crumble. 

so here he finds himself now – slacks pooling around his ankles and the hem of his shirt caught between his teeth, trying his utmost best not to fill your mouth with cum after the first ten minutes like some damn teenager. his hair is a fucking mess, dusty blonde strands falling over his forehead no matter how many times he tries to push them back. he’s given up on it now, realizing that there are better things to be doing with his hands – the one on the back of your head, protects you from knocking against the wooden cupboard while the other rests on your neck, marveling the way his cock slides up and down your throat. 

it’s mesmerizing, the feeling of the bulge under the palm of his shaky hand. he’s in there, filling you up like nothing else and it’s the hottest fucking thing in the world. 

his pace is slow and steady, every roll of his hips has your nose nuzzling into his pubes, your chin pressing against his heavy balls. drool trickles from the corners of your mouth and it’s a sight to behold – it dribbles all the way down onto your thighs and from there on onto the floor and nanami can’t help but feel the coil in his stomach tighten faster than ever. you’re the only one that makes him feel like this, who manages to mold him to your own liking all while being down on your knees. 

the tip of your tongue tickles his balls and the growl he lets out makes you clench your thighs together. his shirt falls from between his teeth and he rushes to undo the rest of the buttons, desperate to get the material off of him, so he can give you his full attention once more. it’s exciting to see him this needy. 

you try to look up at him with him still down your throat and as a reward, he moves to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “you’re– you’re doing so good for me, darling.” 

his voice is raspier than ever and the praise that tumbles from his bitten lips has you moaning around his cock. his vision goes blurry for a moment as the pleasure overwhelms his senses. you’re something else. 

you’re fucking perfect. 

the ache in your knees fades in your mind as you get to watch him unravel above you. his strokes become more languid; he pulls out only a little before pushing back in, his tip reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust he makes. he wants to stay inside you, he wants to stay there forever. 

squirming below him, you screw your eyes shut and try to focus on your breathing – but as he stays slotted deep down your throat, it’s getting harder and harder and you can’t hold back the few tears that have been brimming at your lashline.

“f–fuck, i’m sorry, sweetheart… i– “

he feels you struggling, but doesn’t pull out even an inch, only grinding his hips into your face as if he was fucking your tight little hole instead. you claw at the backs of his thighs, your nails marking up his sensitive skin as you gag around him. but nanami’s mindful not to go too far, to make sure that he wouldn’t miss the moment your scratching should turn into tapping instead. as much as he’s enjoying himself, he’d rather die than to hurt you.

he waits for your signal but when it doesn’t come, he presses himself even further down your throat, moaning loudly when you gag around him. his blonde pubes stick to your skin, your spit acting as glue between you. 

your mouth is so fucking warm and tight and, fuck– the obscene sounds that fill his ears are making him lose his mind. you feel divine and it has him wondering what ever did he do to deserve a lover like you. 

all it takes is two pats against his thighs and he’s pulling away, his eyes locked onto your face as you gasp for air. crystalline droplets brim in the corners of your eyes and run over the apples of your cheeks, leaving behind salty remainders of your hard work. your lips are swollen and covered in a mixture of his precum and your own spit. trying to catch your breath, you take a moment before looking back up at him. 

the way his lips part in a silent groan the second you make eye-contact, his chest rising and falling as he strokes his fat cock right in front of your face. there’s still a strand of spit connecting the two of you, from your lips to his tip, and nanami wants to hate how big of an effect such a small thing can have on him. it’s romantic. 

you look ruined. 

he thinks you look absolutely fucking beautiful.

leaning down, he presses a fiery kiss to your lips as a thank you, as another form of praise. he loves the way you taste and they way you feel against him. 

you breathe into his mouth. “more…” 

nanami squeezes his fist around his base, another groan falling from him as he pulls away from you. the grin on your face, the hearts in your eyes and the love pooling on your tongue are more than enough to have him taking in a sharp intake of air – you reach out to him, gentle fingers wrapping around his way bigger ones as you guide him back to your mouth. your heavenly lips. 

as embarrassing as it is, it only takes another few minutes for him to cum down your throat with a loud, deep groan. he holds your neck just as before, feeling the way his own cock twitches inside of you as he gives you his all. 

there’s so much of it that despite you swallowing around him a couple of times, it still pours out from the corners of your mouth, turning you into an even bigger mess than before. but it’s not like you mind – this is exactly what you wanted in the first place. he’s panting like a dog above you, face red as a tomato as he bucks his hips into your mouth one last time. 

the sound that leaves his lips as he finally pulls out resembles a whimper and he lets out a sheepish chuckle, a bit flustered that you managed to pull that out of him. but then again…

it is you. 

his beloved, his love – the one who knows him the best, the one who knows what he needs without ever having to ask. you read him like an open book and he couldn't be more grateful. you're more than he could've asked for. hoped for.

and he loves you.

[earlysunshines]

we'll be alright, please try again

kim minji x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: you and minji break it off, both emotionally and physically, each pushing the other away. but the universe has other plans, bringing you two back to square one as if you were always meant to find your way back to one another.

warnings: sixth member!reader ; arguing ; pining ; reader is canadian for the plot but it's not even that important it's just for a silly tims joke and smth more ; ugh they're so in love get away ; angsty but super fluffy + heavy pining ; a lot in one ; iffy pacing imo ; have fun with this one i rly liked writing this ; wtv else i didnt mention

a/n: guys PLEAAASSSE don’t be scared of the hook and angst tag PLSGIYS i swear it’s sweet… i swear. i was smiling throughout don’t be scared… it’s not THAT bad ANYWAYS i want timmy's so bad rn... un cafe infuse froid a la vanille si vous PLAAAIIT someone send me timbits asap

“i think we should break up.”

minji’s head snaps toward you, eyes wide, an exasperated “what?” escaping her lips.

confusion flashes across her face, and for good reason. everything has been good between you two, really good—no fighting, no tension, just the usual hustle of practice and training. you’ve both always found a way to make it work, to balance everything. so why now? why are you saying this?

you can’t bring yourself to meet her gaze, your eyes focused on some spot on the floor instead, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

“we’re both training so hard,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think we should focus on that for now.”

“but… everything is fine,” she says, a pleading note in her voice. “i don’t get it…”

truth is, you don’t want this—not at all. the idea of breaking up with her makes your chest tighten painfully. but things have gotten tougher lately, the rules stricter, your company’s expectations weighing heavily on you. being with minji would only make things harder down the line, for her and for you. you’d never want to hold her back—not her, not the person you love more than anything.

“i think it’s best for us,” you repeat, though your voice lacks conviction.

minji’s brows knit together, her eyes searching your face. “why do you get to decide this?” she argues, her voice rising slightly. “let’s just… talk it out. we can work through this, can’t we? we always work it out.”

you’ve only been together a few months, but they’ve been some of the best months of your life—of her life too, you know that. both of you are still figuring things out, still finding yourselves in the midst of all this chaos. hell, neither of you are legal adults yet, both being sixteen and clueless. but it’s minji who made you realize you’d never feel this way for anyone else, certainly not a man. she was the first girl who gave you butterflies just by smiling at you, the first whose hand you held with a racing heart, the first whose cheek you kissed, feeling your face flush with warmth.

and there’s that one memory, a core memory that replays in your mind like a favorite song—you can still feel her hands gently holding your face, the way her eyes sparkled with something pure, something deep, right before she leaned in and kissed you. your first kiss, your first everything. she’s your first love, and the thought of letting that go feels like tearing out a piece of yourself. 

tearing yourself away from her would be better for her anyway, that’s what your company insisted anyway.

“please,” minji whispers, and there’s a crack in her voice that breaks you all over again. “don’t do this.”

you swallow hard, your resolve wavering. your chest feels heavy, like you’re carrying a weight you can’t bear. but you press your lips together, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her into your arms, where she belongs.

“it’s… it’s better this way,” you say, even as everything inside you screams the opposite.

minji shakes her head slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek. “it’s not,” she insists, voice breaking. “it’s not better… not for me.”

and you know, deep down, it’s not better for you either.

“minji,” you begin, voice faltering. 

“don’t minji me,” she snaps, eyes fierce and determined. “we’re not breaking up.”

“we have to, don’t you get it?” your voice breaks, tears welling up as you stand in front of the entrance to her dorm, the one she always complained about, the one you’ve come to know so well. “how will we ever debut if we have these worries and burdens in the back of our minds?”

minji pauses, her features softening, but her gaze remains fixed on you. “you think i’m a burden?”

“n-no! no, minji, no.” you shake your head quickly, regretting your words the second they leave your mouth. “it’s not like that… my company’s been on my back, pushing me harder, and they might move me to another one. god, i feel like a pawn in chess or something. look, it’s just… it’s best we focus on our own paths right now.”

minji’s eyes search yours, hurt etched across her face. “we’ve always made time for each other before. what’s different this time? y/n, i love you.”

“we’re sixteen, minji,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “we’re young and… and stupid, and nothing in the future is promised.”

“well, i want you in mine. i would do anything to make sure you’re there in mine, anything.” she insists, her voice trembling, “even if you debut and i don’t, or the other way around—i want you there. i want you there always.” she steps closer, her hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, her touch warm and steady, even as your own resolve begins to crumble. 

her words make your neck tense, your lip quiver. you feel the tears spill over, hot against your skin. minji moves one hand to your cheek, her thumb brushing away the tears, her gaze softening as she whispers, “i love you. i love you when i’m exhausted from practice, i love you when i’m stressed over exams, i love you when we only have a few minutes together… i love you every moment of every day. i can’t… i can’t let you go.”

you shake your head, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps as you pull away from her touch. minji’s brows knit together, her eyes filled with concern as she watches you crumble, sees you bury your face in your hands. you take a shaky breath, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

“i’m sorry, minji,” you choke out, your voice heavy with emotion. “i love you, but we can’t… we can’t do this. i don’t want to talk about it anymore. you don’t need me in your life. i—” your breath hitches, your heart clenching painfully in your chest. you wonder if it’s worth it, if sacrificing what you have with her is really the way to achieve your dreams. “i don’t need you in mine right now,” you finish, your voice cracking, every word cutting through you. “we should focus on our own things.”

minji stares at you, her eyes searching yours, her heart breaking, the words slowly sinking in. a tear slips down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

you take a step back, your vision blurred with tears. “i’m sorry, minji… i’m doing this for us—for you.”

you turn away, your chest tight, and as you walk away, the sound of minji’s quiet sobs echoes in your ears, each one tearing at your heart a little more. but you don’t look back. you can’t. not now, not when every step away from her feels like losing a part of yourself.

—

it’s been a year. one long, agonizing year since you last spoke to minji. a year spent fighting the urge to look through the hidden folder on your phone filled with photos of the two of you, each image a reminder of what you lost. you’ve stopped crying every night—first every week, then every month. but the guilt, the sorrow of losing her, the love of your life, still clings to you like a shadow.

you’ve thrown yourself into training, harder than ever. it stopped being about debuting a long time ago; now it’s just a distraction, a way to drown out the ache that never seems to fade. but was it worth it, listening to the company, if the will to keep going feels like it’s slipping through your fingers?

then, one day, they pull you aside. your company tells you you’re being relocated, moved to another company that’s shown interest in you, in your potential. they say you might debut sooner. it sounds like everything you should want, so you agree, packing your bags and letting them shuttle you off to the new dorms, even if a part of you feels numb, disconnected.

when you arrive at the new building, something about it feels familiar. the hallway, the scent in the air, the way the light filters through the windows—it all makes your heart thud in your chest, unease curling in your stomach. memories you tried so hard to bury start to bubble up.

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts, and push open the door to your new room. it’s… not much. the walls look a little worn, there’s a fine layer of dust on the shelves, and it’s small—cramped, really. not surprising. you’re still a trainee, after all. you didn’t expect luxury.

inside, two girls turn to look at you, surprised by your sudden entrance. one is shorter, with wavy hair and a bright, warm smile, the other taller and younger-looking, with a curious expression. you manage a small, polite smile in return. 

“hi, they sent me to source–”

“you must be y/n?” the girl with wavy hair interrupts, tilting her head slightly, studying you with interest as you shut the door behind you. “i’m danielle, nice to meet you.” her voice is friendly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“hi, nice to meet you too.” you reply, noticing the slight arch of her brows. your korean is decent, but the accent still lingers, evident enough to catch attention. 

“i’m hyein,” the younger girl chimes in, a grin spreading across her face. “are you from here?”

“n-no, i’m not,” you stammer, a little caught off guard. “you could tell from my accent, huh? i’m still working on my korean. i’m fluent in english though.”

hyein glances at danielle, then back to you. she points at danielle and adds, “danielle speaks english too.”

“you do?” you ask, turning to danielle. she nods.

“yeah,” danielle says, switching to english with an easy smile. “it’s nice to have another english speaker around. two of the other trainees speak it pretty well too.” her accent is thick, australian, and it’s like a tiny piece of familiarity amidst all the change.

a small relief floods through you, just enough to calm the nerves that have been knotting your stomach all day. “oh, that’s… that’s good to know,” you say, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah,” danielle agrees, and for the first time since you arrived, you feel like maybe, just maybe, this new start won’t be as hard as you thought.

they both help you settle in, and soon you find yourself sharing a bed with hyein. it’s cramped, barely enough space for two, but it’s better than nothing. you’re grateful for their kindness. both of them seem so genuinely sweet, and you quickly learn that danielle is only a year younger than you, while hyein is much younger. she’s practically a child, literally a child, you feel a protective instinct kick in immediately. there’s a sincerity in her wide-eyed curiosity, an innocence that makes you want to look out for her, to make sure nothing ever limits her spirit.

danielle, on the other hand, is a ball of sunshine—radiating warmth and energy that makes the room feel brighter. she’s constantly smiling, her laughter infectious, and even though there’s a hint of tiredness in the way she moves, a slight slump to her shoulders, she’s still so full of life. she talks a lot, her voice light and cheerful as she shoots question after question while getting to know you. it’s hard not to be eased by her easygoing charm. 

as the night wears on, they do their best to lift your spirits, sensing the nerves that still linger just beneath the surface. danielle makes a few silly jokes that make you smile despite yourself, and hyein tries to comfort you with small gestures—a reassuring pat on the arm, a soft-spoken “it’s okay, you’ll get used to it. they must’ve relocated you for a reason!” they can tell you’ve been thrown into this new situation without much warning, and they’re doing their best to make you feel welcome. 

you feel a strange mixture of fear and hope—this whole thing is still so new, so uncertain. it’s unsettling to be here, to have been displaced so suddenly, but at least your new roommates are wonderful. they’re different from the people at your old company, where the atmosphere had been tense, filled with a kind of hostility that always made you feel on edge. here, there’s warmth, a sense of camaraderie you haven’t felt in a long time.

you wonder if this company will be any different. you hope it doesn’t end up ripping you apart like the last one, but for now, you find comfort in the gentle smiles and kind words of danielle and hyein. they make this unfamiliar place feel a little less lonely, a little less scary, and for tonight, that’s enough.

—

danielle shakes you and hyein awake at the crack of dawn, urging you both to get ready for training. it’s a normal routine for them, but for you, it’s the start of something new. you rush through your morning routine—skincare, a light layer of makeup, and clothes you hope are suitable for dancing. you quickly follow the two out, trailing behind as they lead you down a path toward another building, one that you assume is where all the training happens.

inside, they guide you through the hallways until you reach a room. danielle opens the door, and you’re greeted by an empty dance studio. hyein lights up at the sight, a wide grin spreading across her face. “we have some time to warm up before the other three get here,” she says, already jogging inside.

danielle steps in next, and you follow, trying to push down the nerves fluttering in your stomach. you all sit on the floor, stretching your legs, trying to loosen up and prepare for what you know will be hours of hard work. you focus on improving your flexibility, feeling the slight burn in your muscles as you push yourself further. ten minutes pass, and just as you start to feel a little more at ease, there’s a knock at the door.

the three of you turn your heads in unison, watching as the door creaks open and a girl shuffles in, rubbing her eyes like she just woke up. behind her, two more girls enter—the first is a shorter girl who yawns deeply with each step she takes, but the second girl… your heart stops dead in your chest.

kim minji.

kim fucking minji.

she catches your gaze, and both of you freeze. time seems to halt, your eyes locking onto each other in shock. minji looks just as stunned as you feel, her expression mirroring the disbelief you know is written all over your face. you can’t breathe, can’t think—your mind is spinning, and your heart feels like it’s dropped to your stomach.

before you can fully process what’s happening, a voice from the other side of the room snaps you back to reality. “you’re the new girl? nice to meet you! i’m hanni,” the shorter girl says, approaching with a friendly smile.

you force yourself to tear your eyes away from minji, swallowing hard before managing a polite smile in return. “nice to meet you, i’m y/n.”

minji, on the other hand, feels like she’s caught in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. you’re standing right there, in front of her, looking just as beautiful as you did the last time she saw you, minus the tears streaming down your face. she thought she had done pretty well moving on, pushing you aside so far in her mind so that she only thinks of you when she’s not bombarded with coursework or training—so rarely. she can’t move, can’t speak, not until danielle calls her over, breaking her from her trance. she takes a shaky breath and forces herself to join the group, her mind still reeling.

the room feels charged with tension, both of you stealing glances when you think the other isn’t looking, neither daring to say a word. it’s a strange, painful coincidence, running into each other like this. it’s almost as if cupid is playing a cruel joke, aiming to tear your heart to pieces rather than make it flutter.

and the worst part is, you just have to push on with practice like there’s no history between you two. like you don’t have memories stored up in your mind of her laugh, the way her hand fit in yours, or the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the world. both of you are still so young, but you know better than to let your feelings get in the way—not when debuting is on the line.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you introduce yourself to everyone again, making sure to keep your eyes anywhere but on minji. your voice is calm, your smile practiced, and you do your best to pretend that she isn’t standing just a few feet away, close enough for you to hear her breath hitch, close enough that you can almost feel the weight of her stare. 

the room is filled with conversation as the girls introduce themselves back, one by one. you nod, exchange pleasantries, but every word feels heavy, like you’re walking on a tightrope above a pit of old memories and unspoken feelings. you focus on the faces in front of you, the ones you haven’t seen before, trying to absorb their names and voices — hanni, haerin, danielle, hyein, and… — anything to distract from the familiar face you know too well.

then, practice begins, and you force yourself to concentrate on learning the choreography, to commit every move to memory. the beats of the music fill the room, and you step in time, trying to mirror danielle and hanni’s movements. you stretch your arms, pivot your feet, focus on your control, and move across the floor, pretending that your ex-love-of-your-life isn’t right there, just a few steps away. 

you try not to notice minji’s presence, the way her hair falls across her face when she turns, or the way she bites her lip when she’s trying to focus. you do everything you can to ignore the quickening of your heart whenever you hear her voice, sharp and clear, giving feedback to the others. you push down the memories that threaten to surface, the images of stolen kisses and whispered secrets, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm, the steps, and the music.

but it’s hard to pretend when every glance feels loaded, every second that passes feels like an eternity. you know you’re here for a reason, to work hard, to debut, to make something of yourself, and you can’t let old feelings get in the way of that—not now, not ever. still, as you dance, you feel a pang of something deep in your chest, a longing that no amount of practice can seem to shake. not this time.

—

another year goes by, a year of slowly building bonds with the other girls and learning how to navigate around minji’s presence. the two of you have grown, mature enough to look each other in the eye, exchange a few words when necessary, but never more than that. neither of you dare to willingly interact beyond what's required.

an unspoken agreement hangs between you both: act alright in front of the others, get along enough to avoid raising questions, and move on. it’s all you can do. three hundred and sixty-five days pass, and in that time, you begin to notice more about minji, the side of her that never wavered, the side that’s still so caring towards everyone around her. 

you see her helping hanni with her korean, keeping hyein motivated with endless praises, complimenting danielle on her improvements, and reassuring haerin when worries weigh on her. minji’s always been the caring type, that never changed. neither did her pretty, gummy smile, her soft eyes, the way her eyebrows furrow in concentration—everything about her that once made your heart skip a beat still lingers, still draws your attention.

it stings, realizing your feelings haven’t faded. they’re still there, buried beneath the surface, and you know they’ll remain, how could they not? it’s kim minji you’re dealing with. if you debut together, those feelings will continue to simmer, but you push them down, suppress them, because you’re the one who created the distance between you two. the tension is your fault, and you have to deal with your mistakes.

minji tries not to break, not when she sees you laughing and being carefree with the others, yet stiff and distant around her. she knows she should be angry, and she is, but not enough to hate you. you’re both just young, chasing your dreams, and if that means leaving her behind, minji will accept it. as long as you’re happy, she can let go, because no matter what, she’ll always care about you, always love you in her own quiet way.

her feelings haven’t faded either, and sometimes it shows—when you’re with the others, bringing laughter and light into the room, she remembers the way you once brought that same warmth into her life. but staying stuck in the past won’t help her, and minji knows that. she allows herself a few glances, lets her gaze linger on you when she thinks no one’s looking, before pulling herself back to reality.

there’s always that unspoken tension in the air, the weight of words never said, the feelings both of you try so hard to bury. but somehow, you manage to keep going. you get by, coexisting in the same space, neither of you willing to confront the past, but not quite able to forget it either.

—

two days until debut, and the excitement is electric.

all six of you are buzzing, nerves mixed with joy. after years of grinding, sleepless nights, and moments where the dream seemed too far, you're almost there—right on the cusp of what you've always wanted. the final practice for "attention" wraps up, and you gather in a circle, sharing words of encouragement. the rehearsal went better than any of you could have hoped for, and the anticipation of seeing the music video reactions and stepping on stage for the first time is almost too much to handle.

the energy in the room shifts once practice is over, everyone easing into a more relaxed state. danielle is sprawled out on the floor, leaning against hanni, who's leaning on hyein. haerin sits by the mirror, legs crossed, lost in her thoughts. minji, meanwhile, stands near the mirror on the other side of the room, hands on her hips, staring at her reflection. you're in the center of the room, watching her without even realizing it, your eyes tracing the curve of her back before you finally gather the nerve to approach her.

you tap her shoulder twice, and she turns around, surprise flickering across her face. "y/n?" she says softly.

"hey..." you respond, suddenly shy, your eyes flickering from her chin to her collarbone, avoiding direct eye contact. "can we talk?"

minji hesitates, glancing around the room before nodding. "alright."

you lead her out of the practice room, both of you offering quick excuses as you slip away. the walk down the hallway is quiet, the silence heavy between you. minji waits for you to say something, but you can't seem to find the words until you reach a small window in front of a couch and potted plant. the light streaming in casts a soft glow over the space, and you take a deep breath.

“we’re debuting soon,” you say, the words awkward as they leave your mouth.

“yeah,” she breathes, her gaze following yours out the window.

“it’s been my— our dream for so long,” you continue, voice quiet. “i know things have been... rough between us. and that’s on me. i wanted to apologize.”

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet her eyes, even if just for a moment. “from here on out, i want to mend things between us.”

minji’s eyes widen, and you can see the surprise written all over her face. you can tell she’s about to say something, but you press on before she can interrupt.

“i’m not asking for us to go back to how things were, i know that’s wrong of me to ask, considering i… yeah.” you clarify, gulping and trying to supress a faint blush. “but i want us to be members, to get along. eventually, maybe even friends again. i just want to fix things—at least a little. i know our past was complicated, but if we’re going to debut together, i want there to be less tension. more of... a broken bridge than no bridge at all, you know?”

your words hang in the air, and minji is silent for a few moments, processing. she looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve said too much. then she speaks, her voice quiet, almost fragile.

“okay,” she says, the word barely escaping her throat. “i want that too.”

relief washes over you, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. a small smile tugs at your lips. “i’m glad. i hope we can talk more, catch up... maybe do something normal again.”

“something normal,” minji echoes, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, but she smiles. it’s a soft, genuine smile, one that makes your heart clench a little.

the two of you stand there, the silence between you now comfortable, not heavy like before. for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re seeing her—really seeing her. minji’s changed. she’s more mature, more thoughtful in her actions, her words. there’s a quiet authority about her now, especially as the eldest. the others look up to her, and honestly, so do you. hell, you’ve always looked up to her. she’s become even more beautiful, the soft evening light highlighting her features, giving her this glow that makes it hard to look at her for too long without feeling something stir inside you.

minji, on the other hand, is taking you in as well, a quiet smile on her lips as she does. there’s something almost poetic about this moment—you two, standing here together, about to debut in the same group. just years ago you two had met by the river, built a friendship and more, then less. regardless of what would have happened to the two of you, you’d end up together again.

to think that there was a whole time where you were both in different buildings, different spaces, hoping the other would make it. now, you’re side by side, part of the same dream, somehow together again. both of you made it.

—

after your first debut stage, adrenaline courses through your veins as the six of you rush backstage, breathless and buzzing. the girls are squealing, jumping around, and you can’t help but grin at them. then, your eyes meet minji’s across the room. her smile is genuine, proud, and it softens something inside you. you mirror her expression, holding her gaze longer than you should, until danielle tackles you with a hug so tight you feel like your ribs might cave in.

“that was amazing!” danielle beams, pulling back just enough to see your face, her eyes sparkling. “i can’t believe we just did that.”

“i know, right?” you respond in english, your body finally beginning to relax. “i’m so... overwhelmed, but in the best way.”

“so many people were cheering for you.” danielle pokes your cheek playfully, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. “bet it was that wink you pulled off during your ending fairy.”

your face flushes instantly, and you push her away with a groan. “stop! i was nervous! i didn’t know what else to do…”

danielle’s laughter is contagious, and soon hanni joins in, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “smooth wink, miss l/n,” she teases. “you might end up with a lot of fangirls, more than guys i bet.”

you whine, trying to push them both away, before finding refuge by haerin, who’s spaced out in her own world. she blinks at you, a bit startled as you point over to danielle, hanni, and now hyein, who’s joined in, the trio replaying your ending fairy. they giggle like kids, mocking the way you winked and bit the inside of your lip. haerin just sighs in understanding, standing beside you like a silent bodyguard.

minji watches the whole scene unfold from a distance, a small smile tugging at her lips. there’s a warmth in her chest, seeing everyone so carefree and happy after all the hard work. she’s beyond glad that you all made it, that the dream finally came true.

(even if you’re not hers anymore, you’re happy, and that’s more than enough for her. minji is grateful just to know that.)

–

the next month flies by in a blur. your ep is out, there’s promotions, interviews, a few meetings, and just so much. despite the whirlwind, every feeling from every moment sticks with you, vivid and sharp.

each track from your ep gains massive popularity, spreading across the globe with people praising the group left and right. your debut isn’t just a debut—it’s the debut of the year, and suddenly, everyone’s talking about you. you’ve become the new “it” group, with people especially stunned by hyein’s talent at such a young age. the attention is surreal, but what shocks you the most is the way people are talking about you. everywhere you look, there are comments about your visuals, your voice, and the shy praise makes your cheeks burn.

(of course, hanni and danielle never miss the chance to tease you about your ending fairies blowing up online. each one garners thousands of views, and despite the attention, you cringe at every single one.)

but while you’re in the spotlight, so is minji. social media can’t get enough of her, with countless posts gushing over her visuals. people are stunned by how effortlessly beautiful she is, how her voice carries a certain warmth and depth. all the things you’ve always admired about her are now being praised by the world. her popularity is skyrocketing, and it’s no surprise to you. minji has always been stunning, both inside and out, and now everyone else is finally seeing what you’ve known all along.

it’s bittersweet; all the gushing over minji had been your little thing before you messed it all up.

—

minji sits with the rest of the girls in the dorm complex, a new one near hybe. it’s nicer, not as cramped as the old place, and even though she still shares a bed with haerin, she loves it. 

(it’s a queen sized bed instead of a full size, she’s not complaining at all.)

she’s grateful for everything, especially the upgrade from where they used to live. they’re all gathered for dinner, a celebratory meal after their debut, but as the minutes tick by, minji notices something off: you’re not there.

the rest of the girls don’t seem fazed, but minji is. she’s the oldest, the most observant, and it feels strange that a whole member is missing. she waits a few more minutes, but you still haven’t shown up.

“have any of you seen y/n?” minji asks, her voice calm but curious. “i don’t want us to eat without her. we’re a team—it doesn’t feel right.”

hanni tilts her head, looking a bit confused. “she didn’t tell you?”

“tell me what?” minji’s brows furrow slightly.

haerin chimes in. “she went out.”

“what?” minji stands up from the table, the unease settling in her stomach. 

“i told her to stay,” haerin continues, “but she kept saying ‘it’s okay’ and that she’d be back in an hour or something. she seemed pretty eager to get out.”

danielle shrugs, adding casually, “yeah, she told all of us. she didn’t mention it to you?”

minji shakes her head, feeling a small twist in her chest. “no, she didn’t.” the thought of you being out alone, especially during a meal this important, doesn’t sit right with her. you’d left your wallet in haerin’s bag—minji remembers seeing it out of the corner of her eye, a little gray wallet you always carried. she hadn’t thought much of it, assuming you’d all eat together like usual.

“she said she’s not hungry,” hyein chimes in. “she said she snacked too much earlier. don’t worry, she’ll be back.”

minji hesitates, still standing while the others pick up their bowls and begin eating. she knows you too well—you’re the type to lie if it meant sparing someone from worrying about you. and if you were really hungry but said otherwise, it just made her feel worse.

she sits back down but can’t shake the unease gnawing at her. she’s never eaten this fast before, practically gulping down the side dishes and wrapping lettuce around the grilled meat without much thought. she finishes her meal quickly, but it feels empty, and the food doesn’t settle well in her stomach.

after a few bites, she stands again, slipping on a light sweater. “i don’t want y/n to miss out on this food. it’s really good,” she says, her voice light, but her eyes are serious. “i’m going to go look for her, i’ll be back soon.”

before anyone can respond, she’s out the door. she walks quickly, her steps filled with purpose. she knows where you’ll be, and it’s not long before she’s headed to the place she’s almost certain you’ve gone to.

it’s a five-minute walk to the nearest bus stop, a three-minute wait, and a ten-minute bus ride to the area she’s thinking of. the city blurs by as she stares out the window, her thoughts racing. another few minutes pass as she speedwalks from the bus stop, her legs carrying her to the familiar bench by the river, the one with the view of the bridge that glows softly in the evening light.

she remembers the first time she met you here, how you both talked for hours, the breeze gently blowing through the trees. it’s quiet now, the water rippling softly under the dimming sky, and there you are, sitting alone on the bench, looking out at the water.

(“hi, is anyone sitting here?” minji asks, her voice lighter than it is now. 

she’s fifteen, fresh from a rare break in her training. she holds a small bag of honey chips in one hand and convenience store gimbap in the other—nowhere near as good as her mom’s, but enough to fill her up. her usual bench is taken, though, and she spots you sitting there. no big deal, she thinks, she’ll just sit on the other side.

you glance up, still chewing, and your eyes widen at the sight of her. “o-oh, no! here, sitting, um, no one. you can—uh—” you fumble for the words, trying to string them together. “alone, i am. with me, no one.”

minji smiles at you, easily picking up on your accent, the way you stumble through the grammar. a foreigner, she thinks. she gives you a thumbs up and takes a seat next to you, setting her bag of chips between the two of you.

you blink at her, caught off guard by how effortlessly she seems to glow. before you can say anything, she catches you staring, and offers you a chip. “want one?” she asks, holding the bag out.

“it’s okay, food, i have.” you respond, shaking your head, but she giggles softly.

“i have food,” minji gently corrects you, repeating the sentence with a small smile.

you mumble an embarrassed, “oh,” before adding shyly, “yeah, i have food.”

“your korean is really good,” minji compliments you, her tone warm. “it’s just your grammar and formality. but it’s not a big deal if we’re the same age. how old are you?”

you pause, taking a second to process her words, then respond, “fifteen. i’m fifteen.”

minji’s face lights up, her eyes crinkling with her bright smile, and you find yourself mirroring her expression. “me too!”

“really?” you say in english, then quickly switch back, clearing your throat. “really?”

minji nods, understanding your little slip, and switches to english herself. “you speak english?”

your eyes widen slightly in relief. “you speak english too?”

“i learned some here in korea,” she explains, her voice soothing and calm. “i also studied in canada for a while.”

“no way! i’m from canada.” 

“really?” minji’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“yeah,” you grin, glancing out at the bridge in front of you, the soft glow of the evening lights reflecting off the water. “i’d kill for some timbits right now… i wish korea had them.”

“i get that, they were my favorites when i studied there. cheap and good.” minji chuckles softly before asking, “why are you in korea? are you studying abroad?”

your smile falters for a second, and you hesitate before answering. “well, i want to be an idol. it’s… kind of stupid. i came here alone after making it through the audition and getting scouted, but i barely know the language. i just really want to be an idol—it’s my dream.”

“it’s not stupid at all.” minji leans in a little closer, her eyes locking on yours, the sincerity in her gaze catching you off guard. “i want to be one too. i’m a trainee.”

“really?” your surprise is evident in your voice. “that makes two of us.”

“i guess it does,” minji agrees, holding the bag of chips out to you again. “i’m minji, kim minji.”

“that’s a nice name,” you say, accepting the chip this time, plopping it into your mouth. “i’m y/n, l/n y/n.”

minji grins, her eyes soft as she says, “even nicer name.” the compliment catches you off guard, and you can’t help but giggle at her words.)

you notice someone sit down next to you, catching minji’s presence in your peripheral. her voice, now deeper and more grounded than that first time you met her, cuts through the silence.

“i hope this seat isn’t taken.”

your muscles relax as you scoot over to make room for her. “it’s not.” you keep your eyes on her as she settles in beside you, looking out at the familiar view. the glasses perched on her nose somehow make her even more striking, drawing out the natural allure she’s always had. you can’t help but let your gaze linger on her profile, tracing the soft lines of her face. 

before you lose yourself entirely, she breaks the silence. “you weren’t at dinner.”

“i wasn’t hungry.” you lie easily, turning back to the bridge.

minji gives you a side glance, clearly unconvinced. “right.”

“i just needed some space.” the truth slips out this time, your voice quieter. you can feel her gaze shift, now fixed on you. “how did you know i’d be here?” you ask, still staring ahead, avoiding her eyes.

“some things don’t change, y/n.” she says simply, leaning back into the bench. “i had a hunch.”

you stay quiet, the wind brushing past you both. the bench holds too much history for either of you to ignore. the same spot, years later.

(“you’re here again.” it had only been a week since your first meeting. minji had found you on the bench at nine at night, munching on fruit snacks. “thinking of timbits?”

you laughed, patting the seat next to you. “maybe.”

minji smiled as she sat down, and you handed her a piece of dried fruit without a second thought. “was it a coincidence that we ran into each other again?” she asked, sounding curious.

“maybe i’m just lucky,” you said playfully, “lucky to have run into you again.”

“lucky to run into me?” she raised an eyebrow.

“you’re the only person i can talk to like this,” you admitted. “i was hoping i’d see you again, kim minji.”

“i was kind of hoping the same, l/n y/n.”

“is that so?” you grinned, scooting closer. 

“maybe.”

the two of you spent the next hour talking, shoulders nearly touching, laughter filling the space between you. the fruit snacks were long gone, but you stayed, sharing stories about trainee life and the little struggles of the week. it felt easy, natural, like you’d known each other for years.

when your phone buzzed with a notification, your face fell, and minji’s mirrored yours.

“you have to go?” her voice held a tinge of disappointment.

“yeah,” you sighed, “but let’s meet again, okay? can i get your kakao?”

“of course!” minji had jumped at the chance, quickly giving you her contact. “can we meet again next week? i’m happy i’ve made a friend like you.”

“me too,” you had said softly, “you’re like a savior. my korean is so bad…”

“i’ll help you with that,” she’d laughed, “but our time is limited.”

you hugged her then, surprising her with the closeness. she caught the faint scent of lavender on you and hesitated for only a moment before hugging you back tightly. you mumbled a quiet “thanks,” your lips brushing against her hair near her ear, making her shiver slightly.

“for what?” she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“doesn’t matter.”)

you feel minji looking at you now, and in the corner of your eye, you see her scoot a little closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. it’s subtle, but the warmth from years ago flickers to life again in your chest.

“your korean is really good now,” she says after a pause, her voice soft. “especially since the first time we met.”

“i’d hope so, after three years.” you smile to yourself, trying to lighten the moment.

minji doesn’t laugh, though. instead, she turns to face you, her expression unreadable. “i was worried, you know?” she says quietly. “why did you tell everyone but me that you were leaving?”

you turn to meet her gaze, lips parting as you exhale softly. her eyes are as warm and familiar as ever. “i knew you’d make me go back inside.”

“i wouldn’t.”

“yes, you would.”

“i’d just go outside with you, y/n.”

her words settle between you, and you feel the weight of them in your chest. she’s always been too kind, too caring, even more now than when you first met. she’s still minji, but somehow better, different in ways that make you feel like you’re stuck in place, the same selfish version of yourself.

“oh.”

there’s no warning when your eyes start to sting, a subtle burn building until you feel the tears pooling. you turn away quickly, hoping to hide it before it gets worse.

“do you hate me?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper, but shaky enough to betray you. “i wouldn’t blame you.”

minji’s brows furrow. “do i what?”

“hate me.” 

she pauses, studying you closely. her eyes trace the way your hands fidget restlessly in your lap—something she’s seen you do countless times before. you’ve always done it when you were anxious, whether it was before a monthly evaluation, or when you had something on your mind that you wouldn’t share with her. she notices how your teeth press into your lower lip, your foot bouncing slightly, a nervous habit she’s memorized over the years.

“y/n,” she says softly, scooting even closer until her side presses into yours. her arm wraps around your shoulders, gently pulling you into her. she holds you like she always has, her thumb brushing lightly over your arm in slow, comforting strokes. “i could never hate you.”

“i dumped you without a word,” you mutter bitterly, the words heavy on your tongue. “and then i got moved to your company, and you had to act like you were fine with me being there.”

minji stays quiet, letting you continue.

“you don’t have to pretend. i know i made it hard for you.”

“i’m not pretending,” she says, turning to look at you again. “you debuted, y/n, and that’s all i ever wanted for you. it’s your dream. you gave up so much to make it happen.” her voice softens even more, her gaze steady on you. “all i have is admiration for you. even if we’re… not together anymore, all i’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

her words only make the tears spill faster, flowing freely down your cheeks as you tremble beside her. the warmth of her touch is familiar, and it brings back memories of when you were sixteen, when she’d comfort you in moments just like this, when everything felt overwhelming.

“minji, i’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking with the weight of it all.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, her hand still rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder.

you hate how vulnerable you feel, especially in front of her. you’ve held it together for so long, keeping your emotions locked down since the breakup, since the whirlwind of your debut. but now, sitting here next to her, it feels impossible to keep pretending. the tears keep coming, and you sniffle quietly, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

even though her arm is still around you, and part of you craves that comfort, you can’t help but feel like you don’t deserve it. the guilt presses down on you, and you gently take her hand, holding it for a brief moment to savor the warmth before carefully removing her arm from around your shoulders. you don’t meet her gaze as you do it, but minji seems to understand, not saying a word.

“you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” she asks after a beat, her voice still soft but with a hint of concern.

“i’m not that hungry,” you reply, forcing yourself to focus on anything but the heaviness in your chest.

“not even for gummy snacks?” she teases, tilting her head slightly as she watches you.

her playful tone pulls a small smile from your lips. “maybe for those…”

—

the next few months go quite normally, though it took you a bit to fully open up to minji.

you're timid and reserved, but there’s a new warmth in the way you interact with minji. the tension that kept you two apart starts to fade during the activities that come with your debut. livestreams, music video shoots, and photoshoots become regular parts of your routine, each one pulling you and minji closer.

during livestreams, you and minji share laughter, trading playful jabs as you engage with the fans. the cameras capture genuine smiles that hint at the friendship creeping up to the surface. music video filming offers another chance for you two to joke around, using humor to ease the nerves that come with performing in front of the crew. 

you find comfort in those moments, the way your shoulders brush together as you wait. a cozy blanket drapes over the two of you, forcing you into close proximity. in those quiet moments, laughter spills from your lips, light and infectious, often unnoticed by the cameras. the bond between you deepens as you exchange jokes, the sound of your shared amusement weaving a thread of connection that feels both familiar and new.

photoshoots also lead to accidental closeness. whether it’s posing back-to-back or sharing a prop—or something much more heart-racing like minji putting her arm around you or your head ending up on her shoulder—you two frequently end up right next to each other, considering the fact that you two are the oldest of the bunch, and a popular duo. the laughter comes easily, her smile draws you in without fail, and soon you’re both cracking a bunch more jokes to distract from the awkwardness of the camera lenses. there was a stiffness in the curtain that separated you both, and as soon as it begins to fall the lingering chemistry starts to peek through again.

as time passes, the bond you share with minji deepens as well as with the other members. the lingering feelings you both carry remain tucked away, hidden in the trenches of your hearts and overshadowed by the growing friendship. you find some type of comfort in this new ‘normal.’ to be completely true to yourself, you’re just grateful for the connection that remind you both of the comfort you once shared. 

(for the most part, it stings sometimes, mostly late at night.)

dinner and practice felt natural again too, as easy as brushing your teeth or opening the blinds in the morning. being around minji no longer held that awkward tension; instead, it was a comfort, familiar and warm. the only thing that lingered was your admiration for her, something small that colored your interactions. 

(there were more nights that stung.)

at practice you’d see her greeting everyone with your favorite smile of hers, eyes crinkly and gums showing. she’d smile at you sweetly, maybe even sweeter than how she smiles at the others (but you could be delusional) then head on over to one corner to stretch. 

even the others would notice this, catching you while you’re stretching, hand on one foot reaching for it as you stare at minji through the mirror.

minji is sweaty, lifting her shirt a bit to wipe remnants of the rigorous choreo and giving you a peek of her abdomen. when she brings her shirt back down, your eyes go back to her face. she’s stunning, even after all that exercise and tiring movement. her hair sticks to her a bit, and she just looks so—

hanni pushes you over subtly, making you fall over and let out a weird noise that only she catches. you give her a glare and get up.

“you’re so annoying.”

“someone’s daydreaming a lot these days.” hanni’s right, you’ve been doing that far too often.

“just got a lot on my mind.”

“you’re always staring at minji.” hanni snickers, looking over at the oldest member. “bunnies have even caught you in the youtube videos.”

“they have?”

hanni laughs, helping you up on your feet. “people are calling you guys ‘parentz’ online.”

“w-what?”

“it’s kind of cute,” she grins, “it’s actually hilarious. dani and i were laughing at some clips last night.”

you scoff in response, nudging her with your shoulder and snickering after. minji catches the interaction from afar, eyes narrowing just barely when hanni pushes you again with a little more force, and eyes narrowing just a bit more when you push her back again and laugh.

—

minji hasn’t felt like herself lately, it’s been more than a week. there’s something about you that keeps her attention, especially now that you look stunning for the comeback. in the photoshoots and music video recordings for “super shy” and “new jeans,” you radiated beauty, and minji often tried to look away, but your adorable hairstyle was impossible to resist. she found herself playing with your hair whenever hyein, danielle, or haerin joined in, but only when they distracted you. she wouldn’t dare being the first to do so.

as you began shooting for the full album—not even music video shooting or for the photobooks, just in the booth recording the actual songs—minji was pulled in like sand drawn back into the ocean. she caught sight of you just before her turn to record, attempting to sneak up and surprise you, but you surprised her instead. walking out of the studio, you wore no makeup, your hair was clipped up messily, and a snug t-shirt and sweatpants hugged your form perfectly. 

(her eyes stayed on the curve of your torso for a little longer than she’d like to admit.)

minji froze for a moment, taking in how unraveled you looked; she was mesmerized.

“i didn’t think you’d be here early,” you said, your smile breaking her trance. 

minji felt her stomach twist.

“wanted to surprise you,” she replied, earning a bigger smile in return. “you sound good.” she added, biting back the urge to tell you how good you looked.

“did i? ugh, i don’t know; i think i can do better. i’ll work on adjustments tomorrow.” you sighed, a familiar hint of perfectionism creeping into your voice. minji had always found it strange how you saw flaws in everything you did, despite your talents. you’ve always been like that even when you were fifteen, sixteen, and during the time you two were trainees together. “i bet you’ll do lovely, though.” you add, shaking the topic of you off.

“you think too highly of me,” minji chuckled, shaking her head. “my range is kind of iffy.”

“your voice suits anything, minji. i like how deep it is. it’s nice to the ears, really soothing.” you shrugged, glancing at the cap she wore—a dark gray with pink lettering. a small smirk tugged at your lips, almost imperceptible, but minji noticed. you pinched the brim, lifting it slightly to reveal more of her face before turning it backward and letting it sit like that on her head, a few strands of hair poking out from under to cover her eyes.

“is this new?” you ask, your surprise evident. you move the hair away from her eyes and minji swears she feels her legs wobble.

“um,” minji stammered, caught off guard and blushing slightly. “yeah.”

“it’s cute,” you mumble softly. “fits you well. i’ll see you later? what do you want for dinner? i’m cooking for us tonight.”

“uh, i, um. anything the members want—ask hyein.”

“okay.” you smiled again, walking past her but pausing to give her shoulder a gentle pat. 

minji felt a rush of warmth from the brief contact, and as she stepped into the recording booth, she struggled to shake off the memory of your interaction. her mind lingered on your words and the way you looked at her, causing her to falter. the producer raised an eyebrow at her distraction, but once she shook it off, she found her rhythm, pouring her heart into the song.

—

if seeing you just after recording made her lose her balance, then just seeing you in every concept for the new album had completely swept her off her feet. 

for “cool with you,” the stylists had dressed the members similarly, all with flowy white outfits. however, each members look was different. everyone looked amazing, but the stylist seemed to pay a lot of attention to you—at least in minji’s eyes— because they did you great.

your makeup wasn’t all that strong, just simple eyeshadow, light blush, and faint lip product. still, you looked ethereal. it seemed like you had jumped out of a fairytale movie, even the cameras for the “behind-the-scenes” recording had caught her staring.

minji laughs awkwardly after catching the camera in her peripheral, smiling to hide how flustered she is.

“y/n looks very pretty, doesn’t she?” minji says, “everyone does. i think the concept suits everyone well.”

the camera is still on her, she starts talking about how she feels about the shoot and the album. then minji feels someone creep up from behind, putting both hands on her shoulders and making her jump up. she turns her head slightly to meet some of your features, your gaze on the camera in front of you gives minji a good look at the side of your face.

“hi everyone!” you wave to the camera, then turn to your left, meeting minji. “hi minji.” you say softly, almost adoringly—minji might be a little insane for thinking there’s even a hint of adoration in your tone.

“hi y/n.” 

“i like how they styled you,” you admit, “doesn’t she look wonderful?” you run your fingers through the hair falling down her shoulders. “your hair is so soft… ah, i love the accessories in your hair.”

minji tries her best to keep her cool, especially with the camera focused on both of you. you’re reaching out, playing with her clothes or gently tugging on strands of her hair. your fingers trace the edges of her accessories, and then, almost absentmindedly, you start to toy with her hands, admiring her nails like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world and boasting about it to your fans. at one point, your gaze locks with hers, and minji feels herself freeze for a second. your eyes are intense, filled with a warmth she can’t quite describe, something familiar and it makes her heart race. embarrassed, she laughs it off, looking away as though your compliments are nothing.

minji tries to return the favor, hoping to give you even a fraction of the feeling you’ve stirred in her. her knuckles brush lightly against your jaw, sending a soft tingle up your spine as she points out your earrings to the camera. her touch is brief, but intimate enough to make you hold your breath. then, without warning, you feel her fingers gently poking into your scalp, carefully lifting a section of your hair to admire its style. you don’t expect the sudden closeness, and your lips part slightly as heat rises to your cheeks. 

she catches the change in your expression and feels a little proud, her own heart fluttering at the sight of your blush.

“i was just telling ‘bunnies’ about your look for today. i think it’s really beautiful.”

“do you?”

“mhm,” she nods, “i bet you’ll look wonderful during the choreography too. i’m excited to see the monitoring.”

“haha,” you chuckle awkwardly, “thanks.”

the staff stops recording and shoots a thumbs up to you two, which lifts a weight of your shoulders.

you two don’t share a word for a moment. you can’t really look at her for some reason, and neither can she, but thankfully hyein joins in and starts admiring the both of you.

—

day two of shooting is simply hours of posing for the photobooth. you’re set up for group shots, then some solos.

as you’re doing your solo’s, danielle pops up from behind the camera and starts throwing compliments at you. 

“pretty girl~” she teases, “ooh la la~”

your stone-faced expression is replaced with amusement after the shoot ends. you let out the laughs you’ve been holding, getting up to teasingly hold onto danielle and then push her back. 

“you’re so annoying,” you joke, walking away from her. “you’re so lucky i was close to finishing the shoot, i wouldn’t have been able to go on after.”

“sorry y/n-ie.” she apologizes, “i couldn’t help it.”

you roll your eyes, catching the camera that’s recording the interaction and giving it a dumbfounded look. you pout playfully before danielle jumps to your side and smiles as she hangs onto your arm, both of you giggling like idiots.

minji, who’s watching from afar, accidentally frowns. hanni notices this, considering minji is supposed to be taking a picture of her so she can update on ‘phoning.’

“what’s with the sad face?”

“what?” minji focuses on hanni again instead of the scene going on behind the younger member, readjusting her hand. “it’s just my resting face.”

“you’re not even taking the pictures properly.”

“i– i was thinking of something.” minji shrugs, “look here, let me snap a picture.”

but hanni doesn’t look back at the camera, instead turning around to catch you and danielle giggling about something. then she looks back at minji, who’s also looking in the same direction again, frown present.

“did something happen with either of them?”

“no, it’s nothing.” minji sighs, “you turned your head while i was taking the picture, let’s redo–”

“you weren’t paying attention when you took it.”

“hanni–”

“what’s going on?” hanni asks, brows creasing slightly. “is it y/n?”

“it’s nothing.” minji says firmly, putting the phone down now and giving up. “i think i’m going to go use the restroom.”

“nuh uh, no you’re not.” hanni grabs her wrist, squaring up with minji. “c’mon, what’s up?”

minji pauses, words failing her as she tries to piece together how to explain what’s been gnawing at her for weeks. how does she tell hanni that she’s jealous, jealous of the easy way you and danielle flirt without thinking twice about it? how does she admit that you’ve never really left her mind, that she still wakes up some days with her heart aching for you, despite all her efforts to push the feelings down? minji wonders how she could possibly confess that she hasn’t fallen out of love with you—not even close. in fact, she’s only fallen deeper, drawn to this new version of you that she wasn’t around to witness grow.

it hurts, more than she lets on, that she’s missed out on so much of your life. the pain of being cut off so suddenly still lingers, but at the same time, she’s proud of the sacrifices you made to debut. and it stings even more that you debuted alongside her, the constant proximity stirring up emotions she thought she had buried. she’s spent so many nights alone, thinking about you, about the two of you, wondering what went wrong and what could have been different. 

hanni watches her, waiting for an answer, and minji shrugs, trying to mask the storm of emotions with something easier to swallow.  

“i just feel like y/n and i have this… rift, i guess. as friends, i mean.”

“i don’t see anything wrong between you two,” hanni replies, clearly unconvinced.

“i don’t know… she’s just so relaxed with everyone else, like with danielle. they act like they’ve known each other forever, but with me, it’s different. it feels like something’s changed.”

“are you jealous?”

“no! no,” minji says quickly, shaking her head, though her voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. “it’s not that. i just don’t want anything rocky between us. everything’s fine with the others, but with her… it’s complicated.”

hanni gives her a knowing look. “if it helps, i think she looks up to you a lot. you’re both the oldest, and i feel like there’s a different kind of pressure on you two. maybe she’s just intimidated by how amazing you are. she talks about you all the time when we hang out, and i’ve seen her look at you from across the room more than once. i think you two need to talk or something.”

“she looks at me?”

hanni rolls her eyes. “is that seriously the only thing you took from that? you’re impossible.”

minji blushes, a quiet laugh escaping her, but hanni’s words stick with her. “no, but seriously,” hanni continues, “we’ve had some deep talks, a lot actually. she’s mentioned being scared that she’s not as good as you. she thinks you’re way out of her league, like you set this standard that’s hard to meet.”

minji’s quiet, the weight of hanni’s words sinking in. she glances over and catches your eye from across the room, both of you pausing for a split second before you smile. it’s a small, soft smile, the kind that leaves minji’s heart racing. she quickly looks away, flustered.

“i guess i’ll talk to her,” minji says, her voice softer now.

“you should. i mean, i’m not her, but that’s just my two cents—or won or whatever. you get what i mean.”

minji bites the inside of her lip, nodding slightly as she mulls over the thought of actually talking to you. it’s long overdue. too many things were left unsaid when you ended things, even the apology you gave her before debut didn’t cover it all. but the idea of confronting it all, of putting herself in that vulnerable position again, is terrifying.

maybe after the shoots, after the performances, after the album drops, she tells herself. more time to stall, more time to watch you from a distance, more time to get lost in her own confusion. 

—

promotions aren’t done yet, but you’re close. you’ve just gotten back to korea after performing at lollapalooza, a memory that’ll surely be engraved in your mind.

as fun as it was, you’re exhausted, exhausted from everything and how often you were being put near minji. 

as soon as you get back to the dorms, exhaustion pulls you straight to your bed. you barely make it onto the mattress before you collapse, landing flat on your back. your eyes are heavy from the long day of shooting for the ‘newjeans’ youtube channel, and within seconds, you drift off into sleep, your body giving in completely.

but when you wake up, you’re not in your bed anymore.

the air feels different, the scenery unfamiliar yet somehow recognizable. you blink, disoriented, as you take in the street around you. it feels like a memory—one deeply embedded in your mind. you look down and see your pinky linked with someone else’s, the warmth of their hand anchoring you. confused, you follow the connection, eyes tracing up their arm to their face. at first, the features are blurry, making you squint. and then it hits you, as clear as day.

it’s minji, but not the minji you know now. it’s sixteen-year-old minji.

your heart stutters in your chest. she looks exactly as she did back then, her bright smile lighting up her face. her eyes are wide and full of life, just like you remember from the night market where everything between you had changed. the place where you’d confessed to each other, turning a casual hangout into an unplanned first date.

“what’s wrong? you look a little pale,” minji says, tilting her head in concern, but there’s a playful lilt to her voice.

“minji?” you manage to say, your voice wavering. “what’s going on? you—this—”

“y/n, why are you acting weird?” she laughs softly, her hand sliding into yours, fingers intertwining easily. her thumb brushes lightly against your skin, a touch so familiar it makes your heart ache. “did you skip a meal again? i told you to eat before we came out here.”

her words are like a time capsule, pulling you back to when she’d always remind you to eat. even when she was drowning in her own trainee schedule, she’d send texts making sure you were taking care of yourself. back then, you were just friends. or maybe more, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“i—i have to go,” you stammer, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

“again?” her smile fades into a frown, brows knitting in confusion as you pull your hand away from hers. “you’re leaving again? without explaining?”

“what?” your voice cracks.

“you’re always leaving me,” she says, her tone dropping. “are you ever going to stop?”

“minji,” you whisper, shutting your eyes against the guilt that washes over you. the regret is palpable, twisting in your stomach. “i didn’t want to, but i had to.”

when you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else. the market is gone, and you’re left disoriented once more, thrown into another unfamiliar scene.

you’re on a couch now, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. the air smells sweet, like pancakes. your favorite—sundays at home, topped with fresh maple syrup. the scent guides you into the kitchen, where a girl is standing at the stove, her back turned to you. long, dark hair, pajama pants, a loose t-shirt.

she turns, and your heart nearly stops again. it’s minji.

but this time, she’s not sixteen. she’s the age she should be. the present minji. your minji.

“you alright, love?” she asks, concern in her voice as she turns the stove down and sets the spatula aside. she walks over, fingers gently fixing your messy bedhead. “bad nap?”

her touch is soft, her presence warm. she cups your cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing against your skin. “you looked a little shaken up.”

“i’m… no, i’m okay,” you lie, leaning into her touch for just a second. your eyes drift past her, trying to ground yourself. “are you making pancakes?”

“yeah,” she says shyly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “you mentioned missing home, so i thought i’d surprise you.” she presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose. “there’s a batch ready for you.”

“thank you,” you murmur, the words barely leaving your lips as a lump forms in your throat.

“anything for you, baby.” she takes your hand, leading you toward the stove where a plate sits—two pancakes perfectly stacked with raspberries and syrup. it’s thoughtful. so minji. 

you love this, you love her. you never stopped loving her, you couldn’t ever do that. but instead of feeling warmth, you feel a pit growing in your stomach. something’s not right.

“this isn’t right,” you say, voice trembling as you put the plate down.

minji blinks, tilting her head in confusion. “what’s wrong? is it the pancakes?”

“not the pancakes,” you say, stepping back, your hands shaking. “this. none of this.”

she moves closer, concern deepening in her eyes, but you instinctively back away.

“y/n, what are you talking about?”

“this isn’t real,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “i don’t deserve this. minji, i broke up with you. this never happened.”

a tear slides down your cheek, your lip quivering uncontrollably as the weight of your words sinks in. “i’m sorry, minji. i’m so, so sorry. i keep doing this to you. i’m so sorry… i love you so much.”

minji’s expression mirrors the heartbreak from that day—the day you stood at her door, delivering the news that shattered everything between you. the pain you inflicted on her then, it’s all here now, reflected in her eyes.

before she can say anything, you turn, running toward the door, heart pounding in your chest.

…

you shoot up in bed, gasping for air. it takes a few moments before you realize where you are. blinking rapidly, you rub your eyes, trying to ground yourself in reality. you grab your phone, checking the notifications—something from your mom, and a random emoji from haerin in the group chat.

this is real. you're awake. it was just a dream.

it's one in the morning, and you're sitting on the edge of your bed, face buried in your hands. your eyes are shut tightly, trying to suppress the emotions that are threatening to surface. after a deep breath, you force yourself to stand, legs feeling unsteady but somehow keeping your balance. you make your way to the bathroom, turning on the light, squinting as the brightness stings your eyes. you splash cold water onto your face, hoping to snap yourself out of the lingering shock. you stare into the mirror and the reflection looking back is someone you barely recognize—someone you can’t stand. your breath shakes, your brows furrow, and you hastily wipe the water from your face before switching off the light and heading toward the living room.

you stop in the kitchen first. grabbing a glass from the cabinet, your fingers hesitate when you realize it's the one minji gifted you for your first birthday together in the group. the memory flashes in your mind—you remember the shock on your face being caught on live stream, eyes wide when she handed you a clear glass with your favorite cartoon character on it. you can almost hear the laughter from that moment, but now it just feels heavy in your hands. 

you fill the glass with water and take a sip, catching your distorted reflection in the stainless steel of the fridge. your hair’s a mess, faint lines under your eyes telling you that sleep hasn’t been kind. you lean your forehead against the cool surface of the fridge, closing your eyes and sighing deeply as exhaustion sets in even deeper.

"are you okay?" a voice comes from behind, making you jump and spill a bit of water onto the floor.

it’s minji—of course it’s minji.

"woah, hey, let me help you clean that—" she steps forward, concerned.

"i’m fine," you lie, shaking your head, waving her away as you kneel down to clean the small spill. "it’s just a few drops, don’t worry." you place the glass on the counter and grab the nearest paper towel, crouching down to wipe the floor quickly, feeling her eyes on you the entire time.

minji watches you closely, her expression soft yet concerned, taking in your restless, frantic movements.

"are you sure you’re alright?" she asks again, voice low, gentle.

"yeah," you breathe out quietly, still not meeting her gaze.

"why are you up this late?" she presses, stepping a little closer, her presence warm but heavy with concern.

you straighten up, tossing the paper towel in the trash. "i just had a… a strange dream."

"nightmare?" she asks softly, tilting her head.

"something like that." you try to brush it off, but you’re too tired to put much effort into sounding convincing. minji watches as you trudge over to the couch, your body language saying more than your words. you sit heavily, sipping your water before setting the glass down on the coffee table. leaning back against the cushions, you close your eyes, trying to sink into the silence, but it doesn’t bring comfort.

minji follows, sitting a few feet away, watching you, clearly wanting to understand. she can tell something’s off. "y/n," she says softly, her voice coaxing your eyes open, "is everything okay?"

you don’t respond right away, instead turning your head slightly to look at her. there’s something vulnerable in your eyes, a longing, a quiet ache. but you sigh, closing your eyes again, trying to swallow it all down.

"i’m sorry," you whisper after a beat.

"for what?" minji asks gently, scooting closer to you, her hand hovering over yours as if she’s not sure whether to reach for you or not.

"everything," you mutter, voice thick with regret. "minji, i’m sorry for everything."

she shifts even closer now, her hand softly covering yours, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "is this about…" she trails off, already knowing what you’re referring to.

"yeah," you say quietly, eyes still closed, voice tight. "i’m sorry. i’m so sorry." your voice breaks, and you finally open your eyes, but you can’t look at her. "you didn’t deserve what i did. i’m sorry i debuted with you, i’m sorry for all of it. god, minji, i’m so sorry."

"y/n," she breathes out softly, her hand gripping yours a little tighter now. "we were young. we didn’t know—"

"i didn’t want to break up with you," you blurt out, cutting her off. "my company… they saw my lockscreen. i’m so stupid. they made me break your heart." the words spill out, your voice raw and trembling. "you were never a burden. i never stopped loving you. seeing you now, after all this time, you’ve grown into this incredible person, and i… i can’t stop loving you. it’s killing me. i don’t deserve to love you after what i did. i tried to push it down, but i can’t. i hate myself for it." your breath catches in your throat, tears welling up as you force yourself to keep talking. "you’re so perfect. you’re everything i could never be."

"y/n, stop," minji pleads, her voice thick with emotion, but you pull your hand away, retreating from her touch.

"no, you don’t get it," you say, shaking your head. "you’re perfect, minji. i’m being compared to you every day, and i’m nothing like you. you’re the role model, you’re everything the group needs. and i’m just… i’m an asshole. i tried so hard to keep things casual, to pretend i was fine, but i’m not. i’m not fine. i’m still so in love with you that it hurts." you pause, voice faltering, barely holding it together. "i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry."

minji’s eyes fill with tears as she listens, her heart clearly breaking for you, for everything you’ve carried alone. she tries to pull you in again, to comfort you, but you push her away one last time, unable to accept the closeness.

and she doesn’t push further. she just watches, her heart breaking alongside yours.

a tear slips from her eyes, she’s looking at your trembling body and unstoppable flow of tears. minji shakes her head, opting for holding your hands instead, her fingers brushing against your knuckles.

“y/n, do you remember what i told you before?”

“what?”

“y/n i hated you for a good amount of time. but time made me realize that we were both just trying to reach our dreams, and if that meant you sacrificing us, then… i support you. i did support you. that never stopped me from loving you either.”

you stay silent and look at her through tear lined eyes.

“i tried to push down a lot, and it hurts to see that you’re hurting from doing the same thing as me. as your member, as your friend, and… as someone who loves you beyond measure: i don’t want you to hurt anymore. it’s okay, y/n, it’s okay.”

you let her pull you in this time, her tears stain your hair and her arms wrap around you so warmly that all you can do is succumb to the tenderness. you sob into her shoulder, muttering at least three more “i’m sorry’s” into her.

“y/n, what i said before still goes. ‘i love you. i love you when i’m exhausted from practice, i love you when i’m stressed over exams, i love you when we only have a few minutes together… i love you every moment of every day.’ i never stopped loving you ever.” 

the memory echoes in your head, replaying the two times minji said it—both sincere, both heart-wrenching. you feel a little less terrible when her hands begin rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. you can hear the slight crack in her voice, the way she tries to stay strong for you because that’s who she is—someone who always holds it together for everyone else. 

(“are you okay?” you’d asked her once, catching that brief shift in her expression, the kind she tried to hide. 

you took a better look at her that day, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, the slight lag in her movements, like she was carrying something heavy. it took her a few seconds to force a smile, nodding as if everything was fine.

“yeah, sorry,” she said casually, quickly turning her attention back to her food. “just thinking.”

“minji,” you said her name softly, reaching out to place your hand over hers. she looked up at you, a little surprised, her cheeks flushing slightly. “tell me what’s going on.”

“it’s fine, i—” she started, but you cut her off with a raised brow, your expression making her shrink a little under your gaze. the warm glow of the restaurant’s evening lights illuminated her features, the soft orange hue catching the tiredness in her eyes. she pursed her lips, letting out a small sigh before admitting, “everything’s been really difficult lately. i’m losing energy. i feel like i’m not doing well. it’s just… i wish you could be there with me more. thinking about you is what gets me through practice. knowing i’ll see you, even just once or twice a week, pushes me to keep going.”

you didn’t say anything at first, just pushed your bowl of noodles across the table towards her before standing up and sitting beside her instead of across. she looked at you, confused, but you reached for her hand again, holding it in both of yours as you gazed at her with all the love and understanding you felt.

“you’re always doing great, minji. no one’s doing it like you,” you said, voice soft but certain.

“really?” her voice was small, like she wasn’t sure if she should believe you.

“of course,” you reassured her, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head before pulling back. “i’ve been feeling the same way. just the thought of you keeps me going. let’s be each other’s push, okay?”

minji’s face softened, her lips curving into a small smile. she nodded before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

“okay,” she whispered.) 

as you sit here now, her hands still rubbing comforting circles on your back, the memory feels bittersweet. she’s always been there for you, even when you couldn’t be there for her.

minji holds you close, her arms tight around you like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go. you bury your face deeper into the crook of her neck, your own arms wrapped around her, clinging like she’s your anchor.

“you’ve always been my push,” minji says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “that’s never changed.”

she pulls back gently, lifting your head and brushing away the strands of hair that have stuck to your tear-streaked face. her own eyes are glassy, but she smiles through the tears, looking at you in a way that makes her feel exposed, vulnerable—like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“can we try again?” you ask, voice trembling with hope and hesitation.

she blinks, heart racing. the weight of your question settles in the air, heavy and fragile. 

“of course,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “that’s all i’ve wanted.”

time seems to freeze, the air still around you as your eyes lock. it feels like you’re both sixteen again, standing in that alleyway after a long night at the street market, except this time it’s different. now you’re on the couch, in the dorm you both share because you made it—you both made it. you two achieved your dreams. but there’s always been something missing: each other.

minji cups your cheek, just like she did back then, but her touch is softer now, more tender, more vulnerable. her thumb strokes your skin as she leans in slowly, her eyes fluttering shut before her lips meet yours. it’s gentle, delicate, like she’s afraid you’ll crumble under the weight of her affection. your hand instinctively moves to rest atop hers, feeling the warmth of her knuckles against your cold skin. the kiss is soft, laced with the remnants of tears, but somehow it tastes sweet. everything you’ve been holding onto—all the fear, all the doubt—seems to melt away in that moment.

you pull back first, though only just. your lips hover near hers, close enough to feel her breath.

“i love you, minji,” you say, voice low but firm. “i’m never going to make you doubt that again.”

her eyes soften, and she brings her hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you in again. “i love you too, y/n,” she whispers, before pressing her lips to yours once more, this time with a little more certainty, a little more sweetness. like you’ve both finally found what you’ve been missing.

—

hyein stumbles into the living room, rubbing her eyes, not fully awake yet. she groans, dragging her feet toward the kitchen, but stops mid-step when she spots two familiar heads peeking out from the couch. her sleepy eyes narrow as she tries to make sense of what she’s seeing. the sight takes a moment to register, and when it finally does, a sleepy smile creeps onto her face.

you and minji are tangled together on the couch in what looks like an awkward but oddly comfortable position. your head is resting on her shoulder, one arm lazily draped over her, your hand clasped loosely with hers. minji’s other arm is wrapped around you protectively, her head tilted at an angle that looks uncomfortable, but somehow it balances out with the way yours is twisted. the corner of the couch has you two nestled in tight, looking cozy in your pajamas, mouths parted slightly, both of your eyes a little puffy from sleep—a little too puffy to be from sleep. hyein stares, completely baffled at how you both ended up like this.

haerin is the next to wake up, and she spots hyein standing by the couch, phone in hand, snapping a picture. haerin yawns as she saunters over, her head tilting like a curious cat when she catches sight of you two. her brows furrow, and before she can even ask, your head slips, falling from minji’s shoulder and landing in her lap. your torso twists in an awkward, almost painful-looking angle, but minji instinctively shifts, scooting over to make room and pulling you closer, making sure you’re both comfortable without even waking up.

"what’s with them?" haerin asks, her voice low and groggy, her eyes narrowing at her oldest members.

"dunno," hyein shrugs, amused. "i’ve never seen them this close."

"me neither."

before they can figure out what’s going on, hanni and danielle stroll in, spotting the younger girls gathered by the couch. curiosity piqued, they walk over to see what’s going on, and as soon as they do, their eyes widen in surprise. a grin spreads across hanni’s face, and she wastes no time whipping out her phone to capture the moment. she quickly airdrops the photo to danielle, who giggles as she looks down at her phone, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"what’s up with the parents?" hanni teases, barely able to hold back a laugh.

"parents?" haerin repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"just look at them."

you and minji remain tangled together, still sound asleep despite the odd position, yet somehow, you both look peaceful, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests in minji’s lap now, her hand still protectively holding yours, the two of you fitting together as if you’ve always been like this.

hyein and haerin exchange glances, amused but confused, while hanni and danielle quietly snicker like children who’ve stumbled onto something they weren’t supposed to see.

—

the next few weeks with promotions still going on postpones the time you get to explain everything to your members. but eventually you and minji sit down with them in the living room, going over the whole timeline of events and earning a variety of reactions.

your members gather around, all seated in the living room, eyes trained on you and minji. there’s a tense sort of anticipation in the air, the kind that comes with heavy conversations. you and minji exchange a glance before diving into the timeline of everything— how it started, how it fell apart, and now, how you’ve found your way back to each other. each word feels like you’re lifting a piece of the weight that’s been suffocating you both for so long.

the reactions from your members are immediate. there are lots of “ohhhh”s and “ahhhhs” as they start piecing things together, understanding slowly dawning on their faces. you see nods of realization, and even though some of the details are painful, they listen intently, faces softened with sympathy. they admit they’d sensed something was off but had never wanted to pry, giving you both the space they thought you needed. now, knowing the full story, their expressions shift to one of collective empathy, eyes filled with a kind of pity and concern.

you and minji sit close, your hands intertwined, a subtle reassurance to each other that it’s okay to finally share this. as you speak, minji’s thumb rubs gentle circles against your skin, grounding you when the memories become too much. the frowns deepen as you recount the harder parts—the breakup, the misunderstandings, and the silent pain you both carried alone. but there’s also relief. it’s evident in the way your members nod along, like everything makes sense now. they’ve always had your backs, and now it feels like they’re rooting for you even harder.

"we never wanted to push," hanni finally says, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "we figured you two just needed time."

danielle nods along, her eyes a little glossy, while haerin sits quietly, processing it all. hyein, surprisingly, offers a small smile, "i’m glad you guys worked it out."

you and minji exchange another look, this time a lighter one. something close to peace settles over you both, like a burden’s been lifted now that the truth is out there. it feels good to be understood, to no longer have to hide the past or the pain from the people closest to you.

this isn’t like before—and that’s a good thing. there’s no going back to what was, because now you’re both different, stronger, and this version of “normal” is something you’d choose over and over again. you’ll grow alongside minji, hand in hand, side by side, and she’ll be growing with you too.

you wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this.

—-

"you called?"

“texted, but close enough,” you respond with a smirk. minji rolls her eyes playfully before plopping onto your bed, looking at you curiously. 

“did you need something?” she asks, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement.

“i just remembered something,” you say, moving toward the bed. “i wanted to show you it—give it to you before your shoot. you said you had to leave in twenty, right? well, i found this while i was organizing things."

“what is it?” she asks, her curiosity piqued. her eyes follow your movements as you crouch down, pulling a slightly worn shoe box from under the bed.

you smile as you open the lid, revealing a collection of small mementos—photos, letters, and trinkets that instantly stir up memories for both of you. minji leans closer, her eyes widening slightly when she recognizes some of the items.

“i never threw anything out,” you explain, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “i couldn’t. i remember you gave me two copies of this because you couldn’t keep one at your place while we were both trainees. i’ve always kept it… never really looked at it after everything, though… after i…”

your voice trails off, the weight of that unfinished sentence hanging in the air. minji, understanding without needing an explanation, moves from the bed and sits beside you on the floor. her shoulder presses against yours, a silent comfort.

you reach into the box, pulling out a photo strip. it’s from one of your dates, back when things were simpler, when everything felt new. you flip it over, revealing four small photos in sequence. the first has your cheeks pressed together, wide smiles on both your faces. in the second, you’re both forming a heart with your hands. the third shows minji kissing your cheek, and the last one has you kissing hers. your smile deepens as you hand it to her.

minji stares at the strip, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the photos. her expression softens, caught between disbelief and tenderness. you two were so young back then, but the love captured in the pictures is unmistakable—just like the love that still exists between you now. she glances at you, her gaze full of warmth.

“now you can keep it,” you say, voice gentle, “without worrying about anyone taking it from you.”

“y/n…” minji whispers, her voice so quiet, so filled with awe. she hugs you tightly, and before you know it, she's covering your face with kisses, one after the other, until finally, she presses her lips to yours in a long, tender kiss that feels like everything you've been holding back for so long.

“i seriously love you so much,” she breathes out when she pulls away, her forehead resting against yours.

“i love you more,” you reply, grinning.

“more than timbits?” she teases, raising a brow.

you giggle, poking her cheek. “don’t get ahead of yourself now.”

[seungkw1]

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace. 

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements. 

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become. 

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it. 

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you. 

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak. 

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot. 

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool. 

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you. 

“Love you too.”

You freeze. 

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment. 

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject. 

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you. 

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys. 

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further. 

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains. 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name. 

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further. 

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home. 

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him. 

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung. 

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat.  “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him. 

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours. 

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?” 

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. 

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs. 

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly. 

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates. 

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now. 

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture. 

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies. 

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you. 

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.  

A smile creeps onto his face. 

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands. 

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him. 

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat. 

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more. 

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near. 

“Feels so good baby.” 

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.” 

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this. 

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head. 

“C’mere,” he pleads softly. 

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch. 

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky. 

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him. 

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours. 

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin. 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear. 

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear. 

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms. 

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep. 

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt. 

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second. 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again. 

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud. 

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you. 

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy. 

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade. 

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg. 

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release. 

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…” 

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move. 

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips. 

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin. 

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently. 

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right. 

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss. 

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe. 

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face. 

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss. 

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm. 

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you. 

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Word Count: 5.6 k

Warnings:

Hot water from the shower runs in snaking pathways over the bulky muscles of the lieutenant’s back as he leans himself against the wall, his forehead resting on the bit of his forearm that is propping his body up while his engorged cock is tightly locked in his clenched fist. Furiously he strokes the length with eyes closed and mouth agape, grunting deep and guttural the tighter he squeezes around that throbbing appendage as he desperately works to ease the ache that has kept him from getting sleep yet another night in a row. 

The military base is hunkered down for the evening, most of the personnel fast asleep as he should have already been, but his mind is too full of thoughts…thoughts if you… that sleep is unattainable at this point unless he does something about them. He knows the risk he’s taking doing this in a communal space, but he hopes that it’s late enough that no one will be around to disturb him until he’s done.

It’s been another long, rough day of having to watch you from afar but not touch, follow you with his dark, hungry eyes while knowing he will never get a chance to taste your sweetness, and he needs a release before he does something foolish. Never has another gotten under his skin the way you have, never has he struggled so hard to keep his desire from consuming him whole like he has to every single time you are near, and lately it is becoming near impossible. 

There's only so much that even a trained professional can take before all that self-discipline goes right out the window and he is reaching his limit with each passing week. If this keeps up he is bound to slip up somehow, you will notice, and he cannot let that happen. He can’t do another desperate sleepless night and be sane enough to face you again the next day, so here he finds himself. 

Behind closed eyes he recalls the images from earlier during training of you sparring with one of the other recruits. The way your body moved and contorted as you took down your opponent, the sweat that glistened and rolled in large drops down your chest and into the top of your shirt, the look of cocky determination in your eyes, and the heavy breaths you took through parted lips was enough to set him off something bad. His hands had to be firmly crossed over his crotch even after you had finished and walked off to hide the stiffy he was suddenly sporting so it wouldn't draw attention from any wandering eyes. 

God, the way he wishes it had been him that was pinned beneath you on that mat instead of the recruit that you took down and makes him stroke even more furiously. Why can't it be your sweet, soft pussy he is thrusting into instead of his rough palm? He’d sell his soul to Satan himself just for a moment spent in your bliss.

Lt. Riley braces his feet wider in the shower to steady himself as a wave of pleasure surges through his limbs and nearly knocks him over as he continues stroking. There is so much sloppiness in his rhythm now; he’s getting closer and soon he’ll be able to think more clearly… at least for a little while. 

“The things I'd do to ya, sweetheart,” he mutters to the vision of you in his mind’s eye, the need overwhelming every sense until he can’t see straight. “Fuck, I just want tha chance ta make ya come. I’d make bloody sure ya would only ‘ave eyes for me from then on.”

His teeth clench behind his parted lips as a bit of salty precum dribbles out of the tip of his cock only to quickly get washed away by the water raining down over him. Fucking hell, this is a problem that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight; this isn’t the first time he’s had to jack off to get a moment of peace and he knows that this will only be a temporary fix. There’s only one thing that can satisfy him for good, but it is the one thing he isn’t allowed to have.

At least he tells himself over and over that you’d never give him the time of day and so he keeps his agonizing distance. So, as the rest of the world around him slumbers, he has to do what he must to get by…and even though he thinks himself the only one awake and trying to work out demons under the cover of night, he couldn’t be more wrong.

At the other side of the barracks, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your room just as you’ve done for the past hour now. You have tried to relax your limbs, clear your mind, close your eyes, but no matter how hard you push yourself, sleep keeps evading your grasp. Why? You know the answer plainly even if you don’t really want to accept it. 

His eyes had been on you again today, Lt. Riley’s. That intense dark brown gaze that always makes your pulse race each time you catch it lingering had been plastered on you even before you stepped up to your sparring partner during training earlier. It was as if he was trying to bore a hole through your body the way he wouldn’t look away. The ache that settled itself in your core at his undivided attention nearly distracted you enough that you about lost the fight and now that you are lying in the dark with nothing to keep you occupied it’s all your desperate mind can focus on.

Does the lieutenant even know what his attention does to you? Would he care even if he did?

What would he think if he knew that just his gaze alone makes your body burn, how you can’t ever seem to get enough of the way you can so easily capture his focus, how it fuels all of your fantasies and daydreams until it’s impossible to be in his presence without your breath quickening and feeling that familiar ache between your legs? Goddammit, if you had your way you would have those eyes glued to yours as he thrusts inside and makes you his for the first time, but you know that’s not a possibility.  

No, it’s got to be pure coincidence, something entirely innocuous, a superior surveying the progress of one of his soldiers. He is the unofficial second in command around here, of course he would need to take account of those that are under him. You’d have to be a fool to think it’s anything more than that, that someone as experienced and weathered as him would ever go for an underling like you, but it doesn’t change how it makes you desperately want to get closer to the serious and intimidating officer.  

Why does the one thing you want have to be so fucking far out of reach?

Your heartbeat is starting to race again and your fingers are too sore to go another round down below, so you give up with a sigh of defeat and get up out of bed; if sleep isn't coming then there's no point in lying here to only get more frustrated that you can’t let those salacious fantasies go. 

Maybe a walk will tucker you out enough that sleep will stop avoiding you, at least it’s worth a try. Better than lying in the dark trying to stroke out the overwhelming thoughts, trying to imagine the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress as his cock stretches you out. No, staying here is only going to do more damage. Slipping on some shorts with your tank top and grabbing your shoes, you head out of your room and begin your trek through the barracks headed towards the outside. 

You pass by the quiet rooms of your sleeping teammates, nothing but silence filling the halls that causes each soft step you take to sound louder than it should. Room after room passes by the same as the last as you make your way through the long stretches of hallway. All that's left is the showers coming up on your left, then the doors to the outside and you’ll be free to mosey about in the cool air while the music of the night gives you something else to focus on. 

But it isn’t the crickets, frogs, and other nocturnal animals outside that you hear now, nor is it those of the nightwatch making their rounds. It’s something else that grabs your attention.

The closer you get to the communal bathrooms, the more your ears pick up noise out of the stillness. At first it is only the distinct sound of running water hitting off the titles that cover the floors, but soon you catch the muted echo of a voice reverberating inside. Whoever is in there it sounds like they are in distress and curiosity gets the better of you. It's probably nothing, but it's best to check just to be sure. You'll pop your head in, make certain everything is alright, and then quietly leave without anyone knowing. 

Silently you creep up to the door and slowly creak it open so that the hinges won’t squeak and give you away just in case your worries turn out to be unfounded. The ambiguous noises become more clear and you realize it is the heavy masculine grunting of someone in the shower. It takes you a second to place why that sound is so familiar, but after a few seconds it finally clicks and you become embarrassed to have stumbled upon this private, intimate moment.

You move back from the door and almost let it fall closed when you catch the person inside saying something unexpected. Under the sound of the shower head running and heavy panting you swear that you hear the voice moan your name and instantly you are frozen in your tracks, unable to leave as planned.

You know that particular voice. 

Shit, you've heard it so many times over the course of your stay here that it is permanently burned into your psyche. The voice repeats the same and now you are sure that it is your name being moaned and a shiver runs up your spine. There is no mistaking it now that you detect that recognizable thick British accent. 

It's your lieutenant, that masked enigma himself, Simon Riley.

Instantly your cheeks feel like they are on fire as he repeats it again this time in more of a whimper. Is he really…? This has to be your overstimulated mind playing tricks on you. And yet there it is again, his deep voice grunting your name with more urgency as if he is intoxicated by the way that it rolls off his tongue and suddenly your head is spinning so that you aren’t immediately aware of what you’re doing.

Stop, you hear your inner thoughts swirl around the chaos inside your skull. What the hell are you thinking? Why are you going inside?

Even as you internally ask the questions, you can’t stop your feet that seem to have a mind of their own now and force you further inside the empty bathroom and over to the source of all those delicious sounds. The countless restless nights, the endless cravings for his presence that leave you desperate, the infinite amount of times you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him…your body needs this and it isn’t going to let you walk away until you see for yourself if this is real. 

If there is a chance…

The grunts come faster now as the lieutenant is about to blow when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. There is a shadow on the other side of the curtain that hadn’t been there before, a dark mass of a figure standing stock still just outside the thin plastic veil hiding him from the rest of the room. His blood runs cold, anger taking hold as he is forced to stop and confront whoever it is that has decided to disturb him with their presence. 

Who the fuck could be up at this time at night anyway and why now when he was nearly finished? He pulls back the curtain in one swift, irritated motion just enough to poke his head out and confront the bastard, but to his surprise who should be standing there then the one person he doesn’t need to come face to face with in this intimate moment. You stare back at him with wide eyes brightly shimmering in the fluorescent lighting overhead. 

“The fuck ya think you’re doin’?” he barks harshly, flustered by the awkward position you've found him in. “Do ya know what fuckin’ time it is? Ya should be down for tha night instead a skulkin’ about. I suggest ya get out and head back where you're supposed ta be.”

You hear the jarring response: should move, leave, follow his order, but you can't. The sight of the water glinting off his husky chest, beads of condensation sparkling through the light brown hair covering his sternum and down his abdomen, is too delicious a sight for you to pull your eyes from. You always knew that the lieutenant was a mass of muscle, it’s clear even through his bulky tactical gear, but to see it all in the flesh is another story. How are you meant to walk away from all that tantalizing, slick, heated skin?

Without even thinking, you step in closer. “I …don’t want to go.” 

“What?” The question comes out as a surprise.

You swallow. “I said I don’t want to go,” you reiterate.

You wrestle with yourself on what to do now that you’ve gotten here as he stares back at you in confusion, sensing how the air has suddenly seemed to shift all at once. Do you reveal the truth and tell him everything, including that you heard his desperate pleas? Will that be enough? Or do you do something else entirely? What if he rejects any advances just to save face? 

“What're ya…?” he starts to ask, only to lose the end of his sentence as you move in until the thin plastic curtain is the only thing keeping you apart. 

Screw it, you’ve come this far and that throbbing ache between your legs is ruling your actions now. This is a terrible idea, but that is the only type available at this time of night. Your heartbeat is in your ears as your gaze locks to his and your fingertips grab at the hem of your tank top to slowly drag it up over your torso and pull it off the top of your head. The skimpy bit of fabric hangs idly from your hand almost sweeping the floor as you stand there bare chested staring back at him. 

If this doesn’t make your intentions clear, then nothing will, and hopefully the temptation is enough to sway his actions.

Simon tries to inhale, but the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he can’t seem to get it back. Composure is his calling card and yet right now being in control isn’t an option anymore, not with the way you look like the most perfect treat he’s ever laid eyes on. He releases a shuddered breath that he didn’t know he was holding onto. There is a heat in his chest and it’s spreading through his limbs like a wildfire, ready to consume all the common sense he has left. Watching that hardened man break gives you new found confidence and you find your voice amidst the dibilitating rise in your blood pressure.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you manage to say without faltering. “Not after what I just heard.”

Fuck, he really has been found out.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t take your eyes off of me, sir?” you continue, the truth spilling out like the water from the shower. “You might think yourself slick because of the mask, but I swear whenever we’re near each other I can feel your gaze lingering on me. It’s not the same one you give the others, this one is different… and do you know the worst part?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment even though Lt. Riley doesn’t even try to answer it; he can’t, he’s too overwhelmed. “The worst part is that I can’t get enough of it.”

The lieutenant’s vision is tunneled in on your sweet lips as he listens to your words, the desire to grab you and drag you to him spreading throughout his limbs at your confession. A few stray droplets of water drip down from the cropped tips of his dirty blond hair and hit the top of your shoes as he struggles to speak.

“This is a bad idea, luv,” he says as his final attempt to give you an out. “Ya should go ‘fore ya do somethin’ ya regret.”

You shake your head. “The only thing I’m going to regret is leaving. I can’t take another sleepless night. And it sounds like you can’t either.”

As you speak, you quietly slip your feet out of your shoes and toss your shirt haphazardly away and it crumples to a heap on the ground. “I need you… so bad. I can’t take it anymore. Please, don’t send me away.”

That’s it, all sense is completely gone as Simon Riley is no longer in control of his actions, not after hearing you plead for him to take you. Ripping open the curtain all the way, he silently pulls you into the shower and shoves you back into the tiled wall. Your big doe eyes peer up at him as the water mists from the showerhead above you and trickles off your eyelashes. 

He watches the droplets collect and sparkle like diamonds as they fall onto your delicate cheek, his bare chest heaving up and down laboriously with each panted breath as he takes in all he can now that he has the chance. His large hands glide over your arms as he truly contemplates the consequences of his actions, but there is no reprimand, no amount of punishment in this moment that can make him fight off the brunt of his attraction.

You stand in his presence only able to look on, mesmerized by finally being able to take in the enigma you’ve only rarely ever seen in bits and pieces and never this up close. Goddammit he’s handsome. All those stark, chiseled features, the light covering of brown stubble along his jaw, those brilliant eyes that are even more gorgeous now that they aren’t shadowed in his mask steal your breath away. Old, faded scars are speckled across his visage and trail down the length of his body, but even those take nothing away from his looks. 

Husky, bulked out muscles from years of hard physical labor, outline and glistening with water meet your gaze the further your eyes travel. The sheer girth of his body is enough to make your mouth salivate as you wait in anticipation for it to be molded into you, dwarfing yours in comparison. 

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long, luv,” he breathes as his sight drifts down to the beautiful pair of naked breasts nearly pressing into his chest, bringing you back from your supor as you admire. “I need to hear ya say it, that I can ‘ave my way with ya.”

Anything, you’ll say anything to break that short, agonizing distance between you. “Fuck me,” you say, lips left parted as you wait for him to take the lead and break the tension.  

There is a ringing in his ears as if the entire world has suddenly fallen silent as the brunt of his suppressed desire floods immediately to the surface, overwhelming everything in a blink. Without a word he urgently cups both of his palms around either side of your head just behind your ears, thumbs resting along your jaw so that he can draw your face to him as he leans down into your face. He has to kiss you now; the need is suddenly so strong it’s like he is choking on it. You barely have a second to take a breath before he crashes his lips on your own.

He captures those soft bits of skin over and over again in desperately feverish waves, stealing the balmy air from your mouth to sustain the connection so that he doesn’t have to break it just yet. The last thing he wants to do is destroy this overwhelming magnetism that draws you both together and by your way you grab onto the meat of his hips to pull him tighter to you, he knows you feel it too.

Has anything ever felt more euphoric than the way your full, soft pout feels? Has anyone ever tasted as sweet, has he ever been more instantly hooked on the sensation of someone else’s mouth pressed to his? He can’t remember anymore. There is nothing else outside of you in this desperate moment. 

Releasing your face, his rough fingertips follow the curve of your spine down to roundness of your ass where he grabs handfuls to massage. So absorbed in your taste, the feeling of your lips, the heat of your breath, that it takes minutes for him to realize that there is still a barrier between your bodies: the shorts now damp from the shower still hopelessly clinging to your hips. They have to go as they are very shortly going to get in the way.

“Wanna get these fuckin’ things off,” he murmurs against your lips as he pulls the fabric down, miserably removing his mouth from your own so that he can help you step out of them. They are quickly tossed past the shower curtain and before they even can hit the ground he is harshly pressed back against you once again to steal your mouth and devour your kiss. 

Your moistened bodies slip across each other as the pressure builds and the movements become more desperate, him pushing his hardened cock into your pelvis as he grinds against you and shoving a thick thigh between your parted legs to give you something to hump. He fills your mouth with a muffled groan as the silky lips of your pussy connect with the skin; it’s better than he could have ever imagined it feeling and he cannot wait to get inside and be constricted by your walls squeezing around him, but there’s a little more he has to explore first.

Patience, he’s going savor this moment like it’s the only one he’ll ever get.

“Tha’s it,” he encourages in a short burst, trailing his lips down to your jaw towards your throat as you roll your hips hard to catch your clit on the muscle. “Fuck, ya do need it bad, don’t ya? I wanna hear it, tell me how bad you’ve needed it, luv.” 

Those hungry lips reach the side of your neck and start to suck, puckering the skin into his mouth and you struggle to remember how to talk through the sensitivity hazing your thoughts. “Everytime I have to see you… f-fuck…  can’t sleep. Have to keep … uuughh… t- touching myself for relief.”

His mouth continues to trail lower and lower down the contours of your body, leaving warm, moist kisses along the skin of your collarbone and over the side of your chest. “Keep going,” he orders.  

You gulp down another moan as his burning lips lock to your breast, suctioning to the areola while that agile tongue flicks over the very tip of your nipple until it’s stiff. God, your tits are like heaven, so soft and juicy as they fill his mouth.  His hand palms over the other breast and begins to play; he won’t leave that one to not receive any attention.

“Can’t…focus,” you stammer, “can’t think of anything except you. Begging into the dark for you…to take me…to make me yours.”

“Think ‘a my cock a lot, luv?” he asks amused as he switches sides and takes the other breast into his hungry mouth.

The heat in your face makes your cheeks feel swollen. “I…do,” you admit as if you both aren’t already naked and humping each other. 

“Wonderin’ what it would feel like?”

“Wanting it inside me,” you add.

His hand leaves your chest and moves between your bodies to grab yours and bring it down to wrap around the girth of his shaft. “It don’t ‘ave to be a mystery anymore, sweetheart.” 

Goddammit, he’s big. You’d barely had time to register the look of it before his mouth was plastered to yours and though you can feel it grinding into you, now that it is in your fist it makes your breath hitch. “F-fuck…” you moan as your hand slides up and down the length.

Simon’s cock twitches as if in response to the ache in your voice and you can feel its heartbeat. The thrill to know you have a strong grip on such a man as the lieutenant, that it is you he wants, it’s you he needs, that his cock is hard just for you makes you grind against him with eyes closed trying to make yourself come.  

“Gonna stuff ya full,” he groans from the pressure you apply as you continue to work him. “Stretch out your sweet pussy.”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

The steam billows around your conjoined bodies, condensation enfolding you in a layer of mist as if you’re stuck in a dream when he finally emerges hastily from your chest with lips puffy and red from the suction. He rips your hand from around him as the pressure has almost reached the point of no return and aggressively he picks you up as if you weigh nothing; he’s stronger than you realized to be able to lift you almost effortlessly. 

“Put your legs ‘round me. Now,” he barks sharply and you do as you’re told. He braces your back up against the wall for leverage as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and his sight drifts down between your bodies. 

“Ready for me?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. 

A nod is all he is going to get, the inside of your mouth tasting like copper as you bite your cheek to keep quiet as his swollen tip slips through your petals to find the opening, rubbing up against your swollen clit. Your slick coats his cock, a clear sign that he’s good to go. It takes him only a moment with a slight adjustment of his hips to align with his target.

“Deep breath, sweet girl,” he says as he raises his gaze to peer back into your eyes and with a thrust the fat tip pushes through the threshold of your aching, throbbing core, stretching it wide as it takes him in.

Instantly you choke on the moan that stuffs your mouth full and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep it from escaping. The lieutenant does the same, but you can feel the bass vibrate through his chest as his steel-like grip digs harshly into your waist.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says breathily through a lustful chuckle, fighting off the urge to blow his load before he’s even gotten all the way in, “but ya can take more, can’t ya?”

Another nod, more enthusiastic this time and again he thrusts past the tip down his veiny shaft and reaches the base. You can’t hold it in anymore, the way his cock fills you so full makes you lose yourself. Eye closed, you can’t stop the loud moan that you let out and the sound reverberates off the walls of the cramped space until it is amplified. To think you were ever going to satisfy yourself with only your fingers when all of this was waiting for you to discover seems almost comical now.  

The lieutenant’s large hand rushes to cover over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me. Don’t need anyone comin’ in and ruinin’ this. I’m not done with ya yet, luv; gotta make ya come for me first.”

The shine in your glazed-over eyes gives him your answer and he removes his hand with a nod as he knows an even better solution to keep you quiet. He leans back in and his lips pull yours into their secure embrace before he risks slipping in his tongue to wrestle with yours; can’t make much noise with your mouth so full.  

There’s no way he is going to calm down enough now to stave off his orgasm for much longer and so with your mouths connected he starts to thrust, dragging himself nearly out of your core before slamming back up into you. Every thrust strikes up into your pussy shoving him in as deep as he can get, your body shaking from the force as your back is dragged up and down along the wall. The moisture on the walls keeps the friction low so you can move easily with his percussive hits into your body.

So fucking wet, so goddamn tight, how is he meant to not fall apart? Simon can’t help rutting into all that goodness like an animal hell bent on capturing every bit of pleasure he can. Lost in the feeling his rhythm wavers, but breaking from your mouth and taking a few deep breaths he gets himself right back on track. As he bucks wildly up into you your arms hold on tightly around the back of his neck and you notice how the muscles tense with each of his strong thrusts. 

“Need ya ta come for me… need it so goddamn bad…” 

There is no hiding the desperation in his words. He has to know that your body belongs to him now, that after tonight you won’t ever even think of straying from him. You’re his, his, and after all the agony he’s endured before getting here, he has to make sure of it. 

That burn deep in the muscle starts to shoot through his thighs, but he doesn’t slow and the more he works the more that warmth gathers in the pit of your stomach. You’ve dreamed of moments like this for so long it becomes overwhelming: the feeling of his skin against yours, his cock buried deep inside you, his honeyed words conveying everything you’ve wanted to hear; it’s euphoric.

You whimper and quickly breathe it out. “Fuck, gonna come.” 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Almost there,” he coaxes, secretly knowing that at any moment he is going to come too. “Jus’ let go and come for me. Let me feel it, pretty girl.” 

It’s there, it’s so close. That sweet release is within reach. “A-ah…fuck… almost there…”

“My good girl,” he grunts, “come on my fuckin’ cock.” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as the pleasure builds until all at once, like the flick of a switch, your core contracts and all of that intensity explodes in a blast of warmth that flows through your limbs. Leaning forward, you bury your face in his shoulder and whimper as you ride out that wave of ecstasy.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans behind clenched teeth at the feeling as your core constricts around him, sending him over the edge. 

Wrenching his cock out as fast as he can, he angles it up between your bodies. You regain some composure, enough to instinctively reach for it to stroke him the rest of the way through. His hot, milky cum dribbles onto your stomach in short bursts while his upper body twitches as you work out all you can. Finally, he falls in against you and places his hand on top of yours to force you to stop.

The sound of the running water conceals the sound of your combined breathing as you both come back down from that high and he can set you back on your feet carefully. Back on solid ground you both just stand there quietly taking in the moment and all that just happened until the lieutenant breaks the silence.

“Think you’ll be able ta sleep now?” he asks as his fingertips caress over the heat in your cheeks.

You nod with a smile spread across your lips. “But I’m not sure about tomorrow night,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Might be up again.”

Biting his lip he tilts his head away as he tries not to show how much it excites him to hear you say that, rubbing his hand over his head to slick back his short hair. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says. “Right now, though, I got a mess ta clean up.”

There is one last, deep kiss waiting for you before he gently pulls you under the showerhead to wash away the evidence of what happened here tonight. As he watches the water run down off your delicious curves and flow down the drain, he realizes that this is going to become an even bigger problem than he had before… but fuck is he ready for it.

[luvlucia]

shhh - enhypen hyung line

summary: enhypen-hyung-line x reader - when enhypen tells you to quiet down during sex || warnings: intercourse, reader gets insecure, no explicit mentions of protection || genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship || word count: approximately 1.5k || a/n: see the request here!

lee heeseung 이희승

You were on all fours, your face smushed against his pillow as he fucked you from behind. The members weren't home but they would be coming home any minute now.

"Shhh, you're being too loud, babe. They could come home any minute now and you don't want them to know we're doing this, do you?" He says in a soft voice as he grips your hips harder.

"Sorry..." You say as you bite your lip, holding back from whatever sounds your body wants you to make.

The next time you had sex, it was late and night and the both of you were sleepy so he didn't think much of you being awfully quiet since he figured it was just because you were tired.

When you were quieter than usual the time after that, he had to say something.

"Why are you being so quiet?" He bluntly asked as you sat on his lap, his head resting against his headboard as he moved your hips against him, not stopping.

"I don't want to be too loud..." You respond, chest heaving.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that." Heeseung said as he lifted his hips, his tip hitting you deeply, causing you to let out a particularly loud moan. "See, that's what I like to hear." He told you, wanting to make you feel better.

You gripped his shoulder, biting your lip. Heeseung moved a hand up to your face, gently gripping your jaw, not allowing you to close your mouth as he lifted his hips again, making you let out another loud moan.

"Come on. Don't be shy, pretty." He said.

park jongseong 박종성

Jay had told you to quiet down a little one day during sex because it was late at night and the other members were sleeping. He didn't have any ill intentions with it, he simply didn't want to wake the others up. Your brain immediately had you thinking the worst about it and you couldn't seem to let it go.

The next few times the two of you fucked, you were really quiet, almost silent at times, whether you had to be or not. Jay didn't say anything at first but when the two of you were at your place, the house was completely empty as you bounced on his lap, his hands gripping onto your hips as you stabilized yourself using the couch cushion behind him, meanwhile being mostly quiet, he couldn't take it anymore.

He held you down and stopped any type of movement happening between the two of you. You whined at the loss of contact as you looked at him.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"I should be asking you that." Jay said. "What's been up with you lately? Have I been doing something wrong? Have I not been making you feel good?" He then rambled, really concerned about this whole thing.

"What? Of course, you make me feel good." You retort, and that was the truth.

"Then why have you been so quiet?" Jay asked.

You're silent for a few moments, "I just... I know I can be a little loud sometimes and can be a little... annoying." You shrug a little.

His gaze softens as his hands come up to your waist, softly squeezing you comfortingly, "Baby, you don't have to always be quiet. I love hearing you. It's never annoying." He told you.

"It's just... you told me to quiet down one day, so I thought you didn't like it." You explain.

"Sweetheart, I love it so much. I want to hear from you always but there are some situations where we have to be a little quieter. Not just you, the both of us. That doesn't mean I don't wish I could hear you all the time." Jay says before leaning in and pecking your lips. "Now come on, don't hold back." He says as his hands go back down to your hips and he slowly starts to move you up and down on his cock.

sim jaeyun 심재윤

Jake wasn't exactly the quiet type during sex. He wasn't ashamed to be loud. The thing was, in this situation, the two of you had to be quiet. The two of you were hanging out with the members when one thing led to another and Jake and you were sneaking away to the bathroom to release whatever sexual tension that'd built up with you sitting on his lap on the couch as everyone watched a movie together.

He had you bent over the sink counter as he fucked you from behind. He bit down on his lower lip as he did his best to not make a sound. It was hard enough for him to not go so hard as to not have your bodies make too much noise.

You were doing fine with being quiet as well. That was until he started to hit a certain spot. You found yourself moaning out loudly in pleasure.

Jake immediately clasped his hand over your mouth as he continued to fuck into you.

"Shhhh. Being too loud, princess." He breathed out.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you bite down harshly on your lip and make sure to barely make a sound the rest of the time.

The next time the two of you fucked, the dorm was completely empty besides the two of you so you were free to make as much noise as you wanted. You weren't though, you were barely making a peep which was unlike you.

You were lying on your back as Jake lay over you, his body weight pressing against you as he thrust into you. When he noticed you were being unusually quiet, his movement faltered, slowing down as he cupped your face with his rough hand.

"Do you not feel good, baby?" He softly asked, the room full of your breathy pants.

"I do." You reassured him.

"Then what's wrong? Why are you being so quiet?" Jake questioned further, his hips halting.

"I... I just didn't want to be too loud." You tell him.

Jake immediately knew why you were saying that and he found himself letting out a sigh. "Princess... you can be as loud as you want. I don't want you to be quiet. I just said that the other day because the members were in the dorm. You know I love your pretty noises." He softly says, wanting to make you feel better.

"You sure?" You ask as you look up at him.

"I'm positive. It's not like I'm the quietest either." Jake teased, lightening the mood.

"That's true." You giggled.

"Now, come on. Make as much noise as you want." He said before leaning down and kissing you, his hips slowly started to move against you again.

park sunghoon 박성훈

Sunghoon wasn't exactly the loud type during sex, mostly staying quiet except for when he's dirty talking and letting out occasional grunts and groans. So, you were already a little insecure about being loud but Sunghoon had never said anything before so you never thought much of it.

That was until one day, you were both in the shower together after you spent the night at the dorm. It had started off as an innocent chaste shower together. That was until you'd bent down to wash your legs and suddenly, your chest was pressed against the slippery shower wall as Sunghoon held you close and fucked into you from behind.

It felt particularly good and you were being so loud. Sunghoon knew the shower water along with the fan would block some of the noise but when he heard the sounds of the member's voices outside of the bathroom, he covered your mouth.

"Shhh, quiet down a little." Sunghoon said and suddenly, you were feeling completely self-conscious.

The next time the two of you were having sex, Sunghoon noticed your quietness right away. It didn't take him long at all. He'd grown so used to hearing your pretty sounds as he made you feel good, when you weren't being your loud self, he had a problem.

"You mad at me, doll?" He asked as he continued to fuck you, looking down at you, some of his hair sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead.

"N-no. Why?" You managed to mutter out.

"Then, why are you being so quiet?" He questioned.

"I don't want to be too loud." You explained. "The members are sleeping."

"Fine, but you don't have to be practically silent." He said firmly.

"I thought you'd want me to be that quiet." You respond, not even realizing the attitude in your tone.

Sunghoon was slightly amused, "I don't want you to be quiet. I never want you to be. Sometimes, you just have to be." Sunghoon says. "Quiet doesn't mean silent, though, doll." He adds.

Before you even had a chance to respond, he was picking up his speed as he leaned down and kissed your neck. He then finally heard the sound of your quiet moans and sighs, making him smile against your neck as he continued what he was doing.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[rqnarok]

old man!logan fucking you with his glasses still on.

cw/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. pet names (sweetheart, sugar, etc). slight dumbification. logan calls himself ‘old man’. unprotected p in v. what else? not proofread…

Logan says it’s not his fault.

It’s not him who walks in wearing a new skimpy short sundress while he’s reading today’s newspaper. He isn’t the one who did the teasing by bending over the counter to show him the plump of your ass while you are trying to reach for some ‘ingredients.’

It’s you who pretends to be innocent by humming tunes of your favorite song as you stroll around him with no fucking bra or panties. Casually asking him, “What d’ya want for dinner, Lo?” as if he couldn’t see your peaking nipples through the thin material of the cloth. 

Hell, he did not even understand why you were wearing a sundress at this late hour. No particular reason other than to taunt him—you know that he knows this. 

Only takes him a few minutes before he’s latching to you, still wearing his glasses while bending your upper body onto the kitchen counter, “Little fuckin’ tease. All this shit just f’me, huh?” 

You huff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull in pleasure when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants—spread open; his cock filling your insides so heavenly. 

He hums a throaty sound in your ear, eyes locking to your face to catch your desperate and fucked out expression, “C’mon, princess. Y’were just so confident a minute ago when ya’ teased me.” 

The reminder makes you let out a hiccup, and suddenly feel shy at the intensity of his gaze. Your floral-themed sundress is still on, only hiked up—he wouldn’t let you take it off. After all, its existence is the reason why his large chest is pressed on your back.

“Such a shy doll, arentcha’?” He straightened himself after you tilted your head to the other side—curses when he felt you squeezing your walls tighter around his girth.

Every drag of his cock back into your pussy pushes more and more high-pitched whines from you. Logan rumbles in a pleased groan as he lurks forward again—leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jaw—scratching his scruffy beard on your skin, “Such a good girl. Nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. Nothin’ else but this fuck- tight pussy. What did I do to get so lucky, huh?”

“Ah- Logan!” Your nails scratch the cold marble tile as you feel the world around you change into a warm, fuzzy state. All you could feel was him surrounding you, fastening his already cruel pace.

Your mewls mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of skin slappings, its noise radiates obscenity along with the scene it shows.

“Makes me feel guilty as an old man,” Logan shivers, hissing at the warm heat he’s got himself all in, “Fuckin’ a sweet, beautiful thing like ya’.”

Logan slides one of his large palms on the globes of your ass before grabbing them and delivering a soft spank to your skin. Like a wake-up call, you twist your head back slightly to look at the sight of him.

His blue shirt is unbuttoned to down, his eyes closing and brows furrowed as he chases yours and his own ecstasy. You wonder how his glasses still rest on the tip of his nose after everything. 

Maybe because you’re the one moving, not him. His hands grip your waist as he moves you back and forth on his cock. Shifting you around like a flashlight, never pulling out his flaccid member as his cockhead breaches deep into your velvet walls you never knew was even possible, “Jus’ wan’ me to use you around, ‘s that it?” 

You ramble a string of yesyesyes’s as a reply to Logan’s taunts, your head empty and unable to form any thought except of him. “Y-yeah, sugar. I know. I know.” 

As you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, your hands skulk backward to reach him, to feel him and bring him closer, “Ah- Gimme kiss, pleas—” You squeak after the lingering ah-ah-ahs. 

Good Lord. Logan lets out a dry chuckle to mock at your utter eagerness for him–but in the end, he gives in too. He always gives in. 

His mouth is on yours in a wet kiss, all filthy as he eats up all your whimpers and moans, “Dirty girl. Makin’ me feel s’good.”  

Your legs barely touch the floor as he continues to elevate you up and down in hard thrusts, hitting your sensitive spots, “Shit. Want me to come in you, petal?” His voice a cadence deeper, “Let ya’ feel me for days?” 

You can only reply in erratic nods before shutting your eyes to embrace your own pleasure building, peaking, and—

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” Thick ropes of Logan’s cum are pumped into you as you squirt around him shamelessly—his cock thrusting and thrusting, letting you feel his warmth. 

He begins to slow down his movements as you milk him dry. You whine at the feel of yours and his cum all mixed up, gushing out of your dripping hole. A filthy image. 

“L-Logan...” You can only call out his name after your feet touch the floor, out of breath and still needy. 

As if he understands, Logan rests his head on your neck and leans half of his body weight onto yours out of tiredness, “Mhm. Yeah, gonna fuck you again, sweet girl.” 

His lips locked into yours in urgency, then breaking it just to smile at you while readjusting his glasses, “Let your old man catch his breath first, alright?”

You bob up in down in excitement. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. He knows what he’s getting himself into ever since he knew you—that he has to keep up with your endless immature teasing and your remarkably high stamina.

Even with his muscles weakening and body aching the next day, he thinks it’s all worth it.

[rafecameroninterlude]

congrats on 5k you deserve it! can i request a 🍪 for bitchykook!reader w/ the song ‘agora hills’ by doja cat?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬

pairing: cocky!rafe x bitchy!kook!reader

summary: ❝kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off, i wanna show you off. i wanna brag about it.❞ — you and rafe make your relationship official by showing up to a party together.

warnings: excessive pda, suggestive language, making out, dry humping, drinking, i feel like voyeurism should be a warning because everyone is feeling things watching the two of you lolll, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: i’ve had this song stuck in my head foreverrrr!! thank you for this req <333 i could also imagine ‘agora hills’ playing while they’re making out with eachother lol. feel free to participate in this poll if you’d like 🤍

rafe knew he was the luckiest man on the island when you accepted his girlfriend proposal. you never gave anyone the time of day, always shutting down any advances guys tried to make on you. you were nearly impossible to obtain, but the kook king himself loved a challenge. rafe wasn’t the first persistent man to come your way, but he was the first, and only one, who was able to handle you and your personality. you were mean to him and instead of cowering away, he was mean back, prompting you to keep running your mouth so he could ‘use it for something worth losing your breath for.’

you pushed him, and he pushed harder. he wasn’t intimidated by you, and you loved it. while you two decided to keep your relationship under wraps, both of you came to the mutual decision to go public. especially since you and rafe still had people who expressed the utmost interest in both of you. ‘swear, i’m gonna knock his teeth in when i see him.’ rafe would be cursing under his breath every time you told him about a guy who tried hitting on you. ‘seems like it’s time to make our relationship known, don’t you think?’ you had agreed, already thinking about what outfit you should wear for the night.

a few hours later, and rafe was guiding you through the crowd at topper’s house, all eyes falling on you two. you could feel the glares from the girls who thought they had a chance with your boyfriend burning against your skin. you basked in the feeling of crushing their egos, your piercing eyes meeting theirs as rafe pulled you closer to him. he was so tall and so handsome, butterflies fluttered in your tummy at the sight of him. rafe took your hand, fixing himself behind you as you two approached his friends, presenting you like a gold medal as topper and kelce got all of their friends to cheer for you and rafe.

“that’s what the fuck i’m talking about, ‘cameron!” topper gave up his seat on the couch, motioning for you and rafe to sit down as he poured everyone a round of shots. rafe felt his chest bloom with pride when all of his friends ogled you as if they couldn’t believe you were really sitting here in his lap. “looks like you did the impossible.” kelce whispered in rafe’s ear while flashing you a smile. handing you a shot, all of rafe’s friends wished you two the best before all of you downed the burning liquor. soon, one shot turned into four, and before you knew it, you and rafe were very tipsy and handsy.

instead of being seated in his lap, you were now straddling him, your dress riding up your thighs as he basically sucked your face off. you couldn’t help but move your hips against his, his hands coming down to rest on the globes of your ass as you pressed kisses along his neckline. it wasn’t long before rafe’s friends, and practically the whole party knew the color of your underwear, a drunken ‘oops!’ leaving your lips when you turned around and saw everyone looking at you with dark eyes. while girls wanted to be you, the guys wished they were rafe who had a girl as beautiful as you grinding on their lap.

“they’re all looking at us..” you giggled against rafe’s lips. “i don’t care, let them watch,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth, “just wanna show you off.” rafe blinked slowly, bringing his mouth to your neck where he nipped softly at your flesh. you moaned, hands finding the erection in his pants. “fuck.” he hissed when you palmed his length, his cock twitching in his pants when he saw the way you were looking at him. “aye, ‘top,” rafe nudged his friend, “s’your room free?” topper glanced between the two of you, watching the way your fingers trailed underneath your boyfriend’s shirt.

“it’s all yours, bro.” he nodded upstairs. pausing their conversations, the group of guys watched as rafe helped you up from his lap. “there’s condoms in the bathroom.” topper cleared his throat, in which you turned to face him. “we don’t use those!” you waved him off with a giggle, a smug grin taking over rafe’s features. now everyone knew he was was fucking you raw every chance he got. placing his hand on the small of your back, rafe guided you upstairs, both of you still trying to makeout on the way up there. kelce cursed under his breath when rafe landed a harsh smack on your ass, a wicked smile gracing your lips.

“i just know those two have the craziest sex.”