#and i'm still not sure i found picture i need
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ITALY GP, italian heritage
masterlist
avaflorence
Channeling my Italian heritage with these idiots so I can win in Imola.
tagged: charlesleclerc , oscarpiastri
see comments below
senatorbiff: Does this mean Leclerc adopted Ava too? 😲 ↳avaflorence: No, I'm Seb's daughter. ↳fernandoalonso: Excuse me? 🤨 ↳avaflorence: Sorry, you too, old man (but you're more like my grandpa)
fernandoalonso: If I don't win, I'm rooting for you to win. 👍 ↳tedestry: nothing to see here. just nando supporting his two kids (max and ava)
florence4ever: MAMA I need you to win. I wanna hear the Belgian anthem again. ↳funeralfrost: A Porsche win in Italy would be the ultimate last laugh
charlesleclerc: No pic credits? ↳oscarpiastri: You said were you going to fill the gas and you just took that picture. ↳charlesleclerc: It looked good, no? ↳avaflorence: Be lucky you even got tagged.
porschef1: @scuderiaferrari truce? ↳scuderiaferrari: 1-2 finish and a truce. ↳porschef1: Understood (as long as we win)
f1
We're backing racing in Imola and it's sure to be nothing but excitement.
see comments below
funeralfrost: Norris went from challenging to Norris to letting Max through ↳bmb: Bottling his second place just like his race starts 💀
alexin: Lewis and Ava both know the camera is on them. Just in different ways. ↳avafanpage: I saw a yt compilation of her chasing down the camera man for like five minutes
cobretti18: pls Max win and make this is a close battle 🙏 ↳d_silva: Ava's too far ahead for the dutch man ↳pie4july: Even if Max won, Ava would somehow still be on the podium.
bootsncats: How tf have we only had one Ferrari podium? ↳prex: That Hamilton signing looking real bad now 🤣 ↳teamLH: What do you know about the 8 time champion Sir Lewis Hamilton? ↳yugi: pls just hop off
swissgirlie: She's been on the podium every single race. Ava's going to win! ↳florence4ever: Manifesting a win for MAMA
WHAT IS QUALIFYING without a bit of struggle for Porsche? In Q1, Vettel barely was able to squeeze into the next session, being a tenth faster than Colapinto in 17th. The only glimmer of hope for Porsche was that Ferrari had found pace, and not the McLarens. Leclerc and Hamilton was climbing back into the heights of the top 3 after a disastrous start to their seasons. Now, the stage for Q3 was set. The drivers included: Hamilton, Leclerc, Verstappen, Piastri, Florence, Vettel, Russell, Norris, Antonelli, and Hulkenberg.
PIASTRI went out first. For the next three minutes, he was the quickest man on the timing sheets. Leclerc got the closest, but was still two tenths off the pole sitter. It was all smiles in the McLaren garage. Until their fretted nightmare came. Lewis Hamilton, a man who was written off that the beginning of the season, snatched pole position by a tenth of a second. Cheers erupted from the Ferrari pit crew. A pole position. The first of the season. This could be the beginning of the turnaround. For the next set of laps, no man could challenge that time. However, who dared challenged next was not a man.
"We ride on board with Ava Florence - her first lap in Q3. Hamilton on pole, Piastri second. Where is Florence is going to finish in the pecking order? Her teammate is in fifth. That could be a good indicator where she will land. Martin, let's see this lap, shall we?"
"She's just making her away around the final corner of her out lap. Open the DRS hatch and now we begin! The pit straight is anything but straight. A slight left bend for Turn 1, approaching the Tamburello Chicane. Sweep left, nice right, a bit further and left again. Accelerate the whole time. Beautiful exit out of Turn 4. Short straight and now we're at Villeneuve. Turn 5, flat out. And then drop a couple gears for Turn 6."
"My goodness. First sector, faster than anybody by three tenths. Amazing."
"Indeed as past Tosa she goes and uphill for Piratella. You need total bravery for this corner and total bravery she has. Brilliant speed carrying uphill. Now for Acque Minerali. Easy to go wrong here. Keep the throttle planted through the first right bend then on the brakes for the second. Be careful of the gravel and she is. A quick left kink, Turn 13. Then Alta - tight, technical, but fast right-to-left chicane..."
"And sorry to interrupt you there, Martin, but another fastest sector for Florence. At Rivazza, the double left handers. No lock up for her. She sails smoothly through and the final corner. She crosses the line. She goes... ALMOST HALF A SECOND! HALF A SECOND FASTER THAN LEWIS HAMILTON! And Fred Vessuer did not expect that at all. Neither did Hamilton, I'm sure. And this is another masterclass to add for what is surely shaping up to be a sensational rookie season."
HENRY And that is pole position, Ava! What a lap!
FLORENCE Haha! Yes! Finally!
"That's her second pole position of her career. Her first, Suzuka, Round 3. I'm sure she'll be delighted for this after many rounds of struggling in qualifying."
porschef1
Ferrari, you still up for the 1-2?
tagged: scuderiaferrari, avaflorence
see comments below
scuderiaferrari: We're up for negiotiations ↳@porschef1: Hamilton x Ava coming soon ↳acidtrip: Don't do this to me! Don't give me hope!
delulu: Whatever magic voodo Ava got in Italy, keep giving her more ↳chemical: Saint Leclerc has blessed another driver but himself
florence4ever: POLE POSITION! ↳gigi: Someone check up on Ferrari fans. They're dying ↳lulu: Nah, even Ferrari fans like me love her ↳coolblonde: Everybody is a Ava fan.
ance: A German team in an Italian nation. I've seen this before ↳distro: german engineering just better
IMOLA GRAND PRIX STARTING GRID
AVA FLORENCE
LEWIS HAMILTON
OSCAR PIASTRI
CHARLES LECLERC
MAX VERSTAPPEN
SEBASTIAN VETTEL
GEORGE RUSSELL
LANDO NORRIS
ANDREA KIMI ANTONELLI
NICO HULKENBERG
CARLOS SAINZ
FERNANDO ALONSO
GABRIEL BORTOLETO
LANCE STROLL
ALEXANDER ALBON
PIERRE GASLY
FRANCO COLAPINTO
ISACK HADJAR
ESTEBAN OCON
OLLIE BEARMAN
YUKI TSUNODA
LIAM LAWSON
"Imola, where Romans first settled, and where the gladiators have returned. Ava Florence, her second pole position of her career, will be looking forward to continue her tremendous season, but she's got the more experience Hamilton behind her. This afternoon, it's a 3.05 mile track and it is wet at the moment. We had some showers coming in before the race schedule. One DRS zone on the first straight of the track. 63 laps ahead of us, let's see what comes out of this race."
"Rain is always an unpredictable factor in Formula 1. We get so many exciting moments in the rain. This one is going to be no different. We've got most of the grid starting in Inters, except for the likes of the Audi of Hulkenberg and the Redbull of Lawson."
"Tire strategy is going to play a key role here as rain is expected to last for a good portion of the Grand Prix. But now, the cars line up at the end of the formation lap. It's Ava at the top of the pack, followed by Lewis Hamilton, Oscar Piastri, and Charles Leclerc. And now it's five lights.... AND IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! Oscar got a good start on Hamilton, he's side-by-side already. Florence leading the pack. Down Turn 1 they go - OSCAR GOES PAST HAMILTON. Verstapen on Leclerc. AND OH AN AUDI GOES OFF THE TRACK!"
"It's Hulkenberg. Hulkenberg went off the track. And now that's giving Sainz the clear move on Antonelli. He pushes to the inside and he moves on ahead."
"Already, we've swapping positions. Piastri had that beautiful start on Hamilton. He's in second. He's going to try and pass Ava. Behind it's a rivalry we've been asking for. Leclerc and Verstappen. It's going to Verstappen on the outside of Tosa. Round they go on the hairpin, Leclerc just having that edge. Verstappen not giving up though. He's alongside his rear right wheel... Leclerc cuts him off at Turn 8."
"Exciting stuff we're seeing. A lot of drivers are failing to find grip on these wet conditions. As there goes Esteban Ocon on Isack Hadjar. He's in P18 now. Like I was saying, staying on the track is going to be the most important thing because there's a lot of gravel and- Oh, Norris spins out. Just like I said. You have keep on the track."
"Lando Norris stuck on the gravel pits. He's going to try and find a way out. We have yellow flags out and this is reminding me an awful lot like the race with 2021. And if you're Hamilton, you don't want it to be like 2021 Imola. As now, past Turn 19, they hit the pit straight. Hamilton has the slipstream. No DRS, but he doesn't need it. He pulls past Piastri. Hamilton back into P2."
LAP 3:
"What's this? This is Nico Hulkenberg coming into the pits. So, obviously, the wet tires did not work out for the Audi. The track just not wet enough for it. We're watching Bortoleto and Alonso. And that's not much of a competition there. Bortoleto gets past the Aston Martin."
"Hamilton has cut down the gap to Florence to just five tenths. So, he's going to get a good chance the next time they come down the pit straight. Oh what is this? Russell goes a little wide on Tosa so that's Lando Norris coming through. He's gained an easy position."
"Sorry to cut off there, Martin. I said it was going to be an easy position for Bortoleto. I lied. Alonso is coming back through Minerali. Alonso has the better line, and he's going to swoop past Bortoleto. So, that is the difference between a rookie and a 43 year old F1 veteran. Alonso makes it very easy to get back into P12. There's also Esteban Ocon. He gets past Colapinto in the same corner Alonso got past Bortoleto. So, Ocon, finding very good pace in these inters. He's not that far off from the leaders."
...
"We said it earlier. Hamilton less than a car length away from Florence. Still no DRS. The stewards don't think its safe enough to activate. But Hamilton doesn't care. He's popping down the inside of Turn 2. Side by side! And Florence is off the track. Oh she had to cut it! HAMILTON IS UP INTO THE LEAD! And it's not over! Florence struggling to get back onto the track! Piastri moves up int P2."
"They didn't make contact, but it looked like Hamilton had to force her wide and then she went off the track. We might need a replay to see what happened. But, yeah, Crofty. She had trouble getting it back and Piastri took that chance to swoop in."
FLORENCE The chicane is way too wet!
HENRY Understood, Ava. But we don't think it's ready for wets.
"So, it wasn't Hamilton. The track is just too wet for her stay on it. But apparently, not wet enough for wet weathers. If you're just joining us, Ava Florence, the pole sitter, the race leader is now sitting in third with Hamilton leading for the first time this season."
BEARMAN Why are the shifts not working?
"That's Ollie Bearman complaining about the gears on his steering wheel. Hopefully, that won't become a persistent problem later in the race."
LAP 15:
"It's revenge season for Ava Florence. She's been chasing down Oscar Piastri for 13 laps. Down the pit straight. Still no DRS, but this track is proving you don't need to overtake. Down the inside, she goes. Is she going to recreate the move Hamilton did on her? Piastri backs off, Ava moves up. She's into P2."
"I think Piastri knew the track was still too wet. He saw what happened with Ava. He was right behind her. So, he doesn't want that happening to him."
"Ava is now clear of Piastri. The gap to Hamilton: 4.5 seconds. And what's happening here? Contact between Lawson and Stroll! Lawson clips his front wing! He tried to swerve on the other side of Turn 1, but calculated it wrong. And Lawson is definitely going to have to pit. That is going add another bad omen to his already bad weekend."
LAP 16:
"Verstappen has been slowly gaining on Leclerc. Or shall I say, Leclerc seems to be losing some pace. He's getting slower and slower with every lap. Is his inters starting to lose some grip?"
"I think so. He's been spending a lot of time in the opening stages defending against Verstappen so that might have cost him as now Verstappen tries on the outside of Tosa again."
"This time, Leclerc does not have the exit speed he needed. Verstappen, oh so close, storms on ahead. Verstappen up into P4. After the last couple of rounds, he's moved up into P2 of the championship standing and now looks like the real front runner to challenge Florence, if there is any."
LAP 26:
"There's Vettel coming out of the pit lane. He's behind Lando Norris. A bit of a hit and miss weekend for Vettel. Not a strong qualifying, but finding some sort of pace to keep it running. And now we're going to past the chicane. And I think from what we've been seeing, the rain is increasing, so we might see some cars coming into the pitlanes for wet weather tires... And, yes, we do. It's Piastri coming into. So Verstappen is now third, but none of top three have stopped, and I'm pretty sure they will."
"Yeah, let's just look at this stop by McLaren. Mighty fast. Gets him in, gets him out. Just what Piastri needs because he certainly has the pace to fight for the win. The top three have all exchanged places this race."
"We ride on board with Sebastian Vettel and WOAH! THEY RUNS INTO THE SIDE OF LANDO NORRIS! THAT'S A BIG CRASH AND SURELY BOTH DRIVERS ARE OUT OF THIS RACE!"
"That looked dangerous there. Just how fast they came crashing into the wall. What happened? Let's see... so it looks like Vettel and Norris are side by side. So, Vettel is looking for the overtake and I think his rear wheel just clipped the grass and it caused him to spin. And that took it out Norris in the process as well."
VETTEL I'm sorry there guys. Hit the grass.
RUDI That's okay, Sebastian. Confirm you're okay.
VETTEL Yeah, I'm fine.
"And that's going to be heartbreak for Porsche and Mclaren. They two teams on top of the constructors championships. Luckily for them, their others drivers are running into the top ten."
"There's a safety car... No, the race has been red flagged. Red flags on the track so we're going to have to pause the race for a while as they clean up this mighty crash. Luckily, both drivers are okay."
"Ava, how's this race been for you so far. You started on pole, lost it to Hamilton and Piastri. Moved up and now you're second. What are you discussing with the team?"
Ava: We were just discussing what happened with Norris and Seb because I was just told on the it's yellow flag, No, it's safety car. No, it's red flag. Bring the car back. So, just looked at the accident and good thing everyone is okay. Obviously, not the greatest for us. Seb didn't have pace but he was running in the points. So, now it's a bit more pressure to put up a good result.
"You have Hamilton ahead, but you're going to benefit hugely from the restart. What are your plans for that?"
Ava: This does benefit us hugely. I don't have to worry about catching up with Hamilton, but I mean the rain is increasing and so I'm not sure if I'm going to have the straight line I need to take Hamilton on the restart.
"And we are back! The red flag is lifted, and it's going to be a standing restart! Hamilton leads the pack as they return to their grid positions, but don't forget, Florence has been relentless all weekend and now she's right behind him. This restart will be crucial. Can Ava capitalize on this opportunity? The rain is still falling, and the conditions aren't getting any easier. It's a slippery surface out there as the cars get ready for another battle. The lights are going out again—AND WE'RE OFF! Hamilton with a clean getaway, but Ava Florence is right on his tail. She's pushing, pushing hard down towards Turn 2, and OH, SHE'S THROUGH! A brilliant move from Florence! Hamilton tries to defend but she's already past him by Turn 3! And there it is—AVA FLORENCE BACK INTO THE LEAD!"
"What a start for Florence. You can see Hamilton already trying to fight back, but it's Florence who leads as they headed into Turn 3. Florence just has to build this gap and keep it steady. Hamilton is not going to let off easy."
"Piastri, Verstappen, and Leclerc all looking to take advantage of any slip-ups ahead. Verstappen is already eyeing up Piastri. He's looking to make a move into Turn 4, not quite! Long straight. Plenty of time to catch up. Ocon, making up lots of positions on the restart. He's up into the points. A brilliant race Ocon is having. So is Fernando. And now, Verstappen, on the outside of Tosa! Again, he gets the overtake done on Turn 7. Verstappen is in P3."
"Verstappen gets the traction out of the corner, and Piastri is forced to concede the position. And that corner has just been magical for Dutch driver."
LAP 30:
"Hamilton is not letting up. The gap is anything but large. He's right there behind Florence, just half a second separating them. I'm sure her engineer has told her, Hamilton is faster on the first sector. The one they're heading into right now. Verstappen, meanwhile, is hunting down Hamilton and has his sights set on that second place spot. Quite a while to go, bu this is heating up nicely."
"As we go through the tight corners of the chicane, Hamilton is a little faster through there, but Florence's consistency on the brakes is keeping him at bay."
"You can feel the tension building between these two—it's like they're waiting for the other to make a mistake. And here we go again into Turn 2—OH, HAMILTON SLIDES! He loses a bit of time! Florence takes advantage!"
"Hamilton got too trigger happy. The track was too wet for a move like that. Florence is being cautious. She has to be. She doesn't want to go off the track."
LAP 35:
"Max Verstappen has now found his rhythm and is closing the gap to Hamilton. It looks like Piastri's battle with Verstappen has allowed the Dutchman to find some space to work with. Up ahead, Florence and Hamilton are still nose to tail, but Verstappen is gaining, gaining fast. Could we see another change in the lead soon?"
"Piastri is holding on, but I don't think he has the pace to challenge Verstappen right now. The McLaren is struggling to stay with the Red Bull, especially through the high-speed corners. And look at the grip—Verstappen's tires are working wonders!"
LAP 40:
"Well, looks like McLaren found some magical pace. Either that or Verstappen is falling. Because Piastri is right here into Tosa. And there we go—Oscar Piastri back into P3. The same move Verstappen did on him. He returns the favor."
"The rain is still falling, but the drivers are handling it better now. We've reached a relative stability in the race."
"Esteban Ocon is on an absolute charge! He's now up to P9. Ocon has found a groove."
LAP 58:
"Oh no! We've just heard over the radio—Ollie Bearman has pulled off to the side of the track. He's having a mechanical issue, and it looks like this could be a big one. Bearman is forced to retire from the race. What a shame for the young Brit, who had been running solidly in the midfield."
"I think it's the gears he was talking about earlier in the race. So, the team really should've done something about that. But with Bearman on the road like this. It means, the safety car will be brought out."
"And here comes the safety car—just as we approach the final laps. We're close to the end here so I'm wondering if the race will finish under the safety car."
"I think it will. We might get at best, one or two laps, but I think it's safe to say this is the end of what has been an exciting Grand Prix in Imola."
LAP 63:
"As we cross the line to begin the final lap of this thrilling race, it looks like the safety car will be leading the way to the finish Ava Florence will take the win here in Imola—her second victory of the season, and what a way to do it! The rain, the battles, the drama—it's been a race that had it all. Behind her, the same top 3 that made up qualifying, but the order had changed multiple times through the race. Hamilton secures P2, his best finish yet. And Piastri back on the podium after his win in Miami."
HENRY That's another race in the books, Ava!
FLORENCE Woo! That was stressful. I never want to be in that position again.
HAMILTON That was a tough race. I thank everyone back at the factory. Wonderful job here. Congrats to Ava, too. That was a good race from her.
f1
From pole to third to second to first, that is certainly an exciting way to win. Ava Florence wins the Imola Grand Prix.
see comments below
sirduke:If she isn't the best rookie we'veever seen, I don't know who is! ↳teamlh: Sir Lewis Hamilton ↳avafanpage: We'll see. If Ava wins the title, she'll take that crown!
delulu: The Florence-Hamilton 1-2 actually happened! ↳digi: I think I've got tears in my eyes 🥹
kiatra: RAH! HAMILTON ON THE PODIUM BABY ↳pcman: He really cooked this race 🔥
florence4ever: The manifestations worked! ↳prettybun: This is the greatest podium I've ever seen! Florence, Hamilton, and Piastri! ↳viscold: Imagine a Hamilton-Florence lineup ↳thebrow: Constructor Champions by round 5
idanz: Between her pole lap and this race, this is surely going to be an iconic f1 race in the future ↳lordshark: Future? It's iconic right now!
avaflorence
Pro tip: honor your (maybe not there) Italian heritage.
see comments below
k2gs: Oh she's an icon ✨ ↳vogue: We told you so ↳millie: Put her on the next cover pls
fernandoalonso: You deserved this one, chica ↳avaflorence: Thank you el senior (citizen) ↳tango23: Not the senior citizen ↳goldtrain: put some respect on the rookie alonso
lewishamilton: Incredible race. Pleasure to race against you ↳teamlh: GOAT 🐐 ↳delulu: Hamilton is about to go on a tear
charlesleclerc: How come they didn't work on me? ↳avaflorence: Try eating six pizzas before the race ↳charlesleclerc: Slices? Or... ↳avaflorence: ... no comment
WORLD DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP
WORLD CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP
A/N: Every time I feel burnt out from writing, I read all your comments and it gives me the motivation to continue writing this series even faster. Thank you so much for your kind words. This one is for you.
P.S: I'm curious. What's your favorite race so far?
#formula 1#f1 smau#f1 female driver#f1 fanfic#f1 2025#f1 imagine#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel smau#max verstappen#ferrari#porsche#charles leclerc#lewis hamilton#f1 fic
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"Yeah, I think so. Of course we won't get through it all tonight, but in order for you to understand what happened to me I think we'll need to look it all over." It would give Alfons a better sense of where he was coming from, which seemed more important right now than anything else. Ed wanted Alfons to take his words seriously, to understand where he was at with this. It wouldn't be enough for Alfons to agree to help him. At some point if his words weren't believed, it would likely fall apart. Ed didn't want that. Not only because he genuinely needed the help, but also because he wanted Alfons to believe him and not think he was crazy or losing his grip on reality.
The smell of coffee filled his senses as he gathered some notes with arrays written on them and laid them out on the table. Ed smiled. "Thanks for making some coffee. It smells delicious." It would be just what they needed as they poured over his notes. "I really appreciate you helping me out with all of this. I know it's a lot." He knew Alfons was busy with other things so it really meant a lot to him that his friend was willing to take some time out of his busy schedule to help.
Ed nodded then laughed a little. "Yep, there's a whole box. I've been busy every night before bed, writing things down. I guess those late nights added up." He sat down as he put the arrays side by side. "Ready to get a crash course in alchemy?" Ed was curious to how Alfons would pick up alchemy. He knew the language barrier with his other notes would be an issue, but the arrays were just pictures. Still, it would take some time to properly explain everything given that Alfons had never been exposed to it before.
He watched Alfons pick up one of his journals and open it up. Ed didn't say anything about how Alfons wouldn't be able to read what was inside. Instead he let it play out to see how Alfons would react to Amestrian. This might be the point where maybe Alfons would start to believe him. Ed knew his friend had seen several other types of language given the close proximity the countries were in this world. It would be damned near impossible not to see or at least be familiar with the language of a neighboring country. But this would be different. This would be new to him.
Ed took a sip of coffee, waiting for Alfons to finish flipping through the journal. When Alfons looked at him with shock on his face, Ed gave him a weak smile. "Weird seeing it instead of just me talking about it. It's Amestrian. My native language. I wrote my notes in it because it's more comfortable for me to do so, and also because I didn't want anyone to be able to read it in case my notes were found. You're the only person I've showed this to."
He wasn't sure what else to say about it. There was no hiding anything now. "I know this is probably strange for you, but this is what I've been telling you about. I wasn't lying, and I'm not going crazy. I'm really not from this world. I need you to believe me or at least consider it a possibility."
"Every one?" Alfons blinked as he tried to imagine how much they would be going through, but he nodded with piqued curiosity. That sounded like a lot of arrays, but if it would help him to get a better understanding of alchemy, Alfons would go through each of them with the same level of detail, asking questions and comparing them to each other. He wasn't sure what exactly he expected to find out of them, but maybe it would make more sense after looking over a few.
He let Ed head off to his room to get the notes while the water boiled. It wasn't long before he he'd pushed the chair he'd been sitting in back to return to the whistling kettle and pouring them each a steaming mug. Black, of course, but he liked to think it wasn't impossible for that to change next time if they'd already gotten their hands on a large tin of coffee.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he glanced over his shoulder at his roommate returning with a more notes than he'd expected. Alfons' eyes widened a bit at the sight. He had though he would come back with a notebook or two, not a whole box. If this was something Ed had made up, he'd put much more thought and detail into it than anyone else would have. Though Alfons wasn't quite ready to accept the idea of real alchemy from another world just yet, he was beginning to feel the first creeping bit of doubt that this was something Ed had created entirely on his own.
Careful not to spill, he carried the mugs over to the table and set both them down on the longer side of the table, dragging one of the chairs over so that they could sit side by side. "There's a whole box of it?" he asked in wonder, joining Ed's side beside the box. He crouched down beside it and opened the lid, staring awestruck at the papers and notebooks inside and back up at Ed. "You wrote all this?" he asked, glancing up over his shoulder at his roommate. "How long have you been working on it? Since you moved in here?"
Curiously, he reached into the box and pulled out a notebook on the top, flipping it open casually to a random page, just to see what sort of notes Ed had been working on so scrupulously. He brow furrowed, however, as his gaze settled on an unfamiliar language covering the notebook's pages. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen or heard even passingly, making it increasingly unlikely that "Amestrian" was just another name for a neighboring country's language. He flipped to the next page, only to see the same language and some sort of circular diagram he couldn't make heads or tails of no matter how intently he stared at it. But it was definitely a complicated and distinct language, not something randomly scribbled down to embellish a story.
He slowly raised his gaze up toward his roommate's face, a bit of confusion in his eyes. "Edward, what is this? I've never seen anything like it before."
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#got to the end of lthq instagram#and i'm still not sure i found picture i need#okay#will continue searching tommorow#means manips tommorow...
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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.
Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.
Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.
By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.
When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.
Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.
Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.
Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.
For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.
Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.
That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!
So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.
People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.
Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."
They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.
Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.
#palestine#free palestine#gaza#free gaza#may allah protect them#may almighty allah see our pain#hopefully she'll message me tomorrow
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Simon has an OnlyFans. It wasn't something he necessarily kept a secret, but it wasn't something he shouted out on the rooftops for all to hear. Just the primal need for being seen while he fisted at his cock in various poses, most of which were requested by you. You who were an avid fan of his.
You really didn't remember how you found him. Maybe you were just absentmindedly scouring the internet for anything to turn you on while you were in the middle of a solo sesh, but either way, you stumbled upon his page. You wasted no time subscribing to the skull-masked man who humbly accepted your request to use a cock ring with a little ghost charm hanging at the end of it.
And his moans—don't even get me started. They're deep, guttural, sexy, and caveman-like and you're creaming at just the mere sound of it.
Truthfully, Simon doesn't even need the money. His price range only goes as high as $5, and for his VIPs, you get exclusive access to all his behind-the-scenes features, one of which includes all the times he mistakenly shoots his cum at his chin.
But it comes off as a shocker to you when its' one of those nights where no matter how many times you make yourself cum, it's not enough. You crave him. Crave to see the way those half-lidded onyx eyes stare down at the camera as he gets off between missions for a quickie.
It's enticing. He's fully clad in his uniform, but his hard, girthy horse cock is out for display. Green veins pulsate against his porcelain skin at his touch and you're squirming at the vibrating wand you place on your clit.
Ping!
Your in-app message notification pop up and you notice the small badge on the messages icon. Thinking it was merely something promotional, you ignore it, but a second ping disrupts your solo love-making session that has you squinting down at your phone.
Curiously, you tapped on the little envelope, tilting your head at the message before tapping on it again.
TacticalHeat: Hey, lovie. How are you doing? I see you've been enjoying my content for some time now. Would you be interested in a private call?xx
Your heart thrums against your chest as your jaw drops to the floor. There was no fuckin' way this was real. It had to be some chatbot or some sort of impersonator, but sure enough you click on the icon and it leads you straight back to the page you were just rubbin one out to.
"Fuck!" You breathe out, throwing your head back as your orgasm spills out of you. You hadn't even noticed the wand still buzzing against your sopping wet pussy, but it leaves you heaving and ready for the next round.
Your fingers hover over your keyboard and you search your mind to say something. It's not like you had a picture on your profile, nor your name, or even a real description on your bio. It was merely a clipart of Snoopy with headphones on bumping to music, a practical choice.
You: I'm good! I can do maybe tomorrow night?"
For some Godforsaken reason, you didn't want to seem to eager, but for what? You literally were messaging on fucking OnlyFans.
Ping!
Your heart drops to your ass at swiftness and the contents of the message.
TacticalHeat: How about now instead?
Part two is here!! 😜
masterlist
#by the way i know nothing about onlyfans#or the mechanism of the app or the site so forgive me#call of duty#call of duty imagines#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you#call of duty ghost#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon riley x female reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon x reader#cod#cod smut#call of duty smut#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x reader
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Wet Dream
lando norris x fem reader
summary: Lando had a wet dream and he needs to take care of it. (1.7k words)
warnings: mdni, + 18, smut, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, needy!lando
a/n: this might or might not be inspired solely by this picture. i'm not gonna lie, this is pure smut. i apologise in advance. also i'm sorry for the abrupt ending 😭 i never know how to finish these. anyway, please send some requests!
↺ back to navigation— send me a request!
The only thing that could be heard in your shared room were your moans, loud and desperate for a release.
You were on top of Lando as he held onto your hips for dear life, his eyes closing as the overwhelming feeling of his incoming orgasm started to grow.
“Are you close, baby?” He managed to spit out. He needed to make sure he didn’t come before you, so his thumb landed on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. Your moans were intensifying, and god, he loved the look on your face when you were about to come.
He opened his eyes and… nothing. Nothing but pure darkness.
He looked down at his crotch, only to spot his painful cock making a tent under the blankets. His breathing was heavy, and he was sweating a lot.
Fuck.
He released the bedsheets he didn’t realise he was fisting and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
He looked next to him and spotted you there, peacefully sleeping and completely unaware of the dream he just had.
He closed his eyes again, hoping he would be able to ignore his painful cock, but of course he couldn’t, because as soon as he closed his eyes, flashes of his wet dream and how undeniably beautiful you looked riding him came back to him.
He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes, once again encountering the dark room. His hand was slowly sneaking down the blankets, and when he finally found his bulge, he gave it a hard squeeze for some relief. He let out an involuntary moan, not loud enough so that it would wake you up, but the room was so silent he thought it would.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it in, so instead of trying to relieve himself right next to you, he knew the right thing would be to go somewhere else and not disturb your sleep.
He got up carefully and left the bed, looking back at you, before locking himself in the bathroom.
He sat on the closed toilet, pulling down his boxers and finally freeing his aching member. He squeezed it again, and again, and again, before he started stroking it slowly. His grip was firm, and his groans were low as he finally gave it what it so desperately needed.
Using his spit and the pre cum leaking from his tip, his strokes got faster, and Lando rolled up his shirt and trapped it between his teeth as he looked down at his hand, his mind trying to replace it with your pretty mouth. With that image in his mind, it got harder to contain his moans.
⋆。° ✮ ⋆。° ✮
You rolled over, expecting to find your boyfriend to cuddle, like you always did. Instead, all you found was an empty spot next to you. It was still warm, so you knew he hadn’t been gone for too long.
You closed your eyes again, figuring he’d be back in just a moment, but you heard something that made you open them again. A loud breath that you thought could only mean something had happened.
You got up immediately, worried as you made your way to the bathroom. But once you were close enough, it clicked. You finally understood what he was doing.
You were about to turn around, go back to bed, and pretend like it never happened, figuring he needed some privacy to finish his business, but something between your legs was begging you to help him out and calm down whatever had gotten into him.
⋆。° ✮ ⋆。° ✮
He was being louder than he intended, but it felt so good he didn’t even realise. His shirt was still between his teeth and his eyes now squeezed shut as he tried to bring himself to a sweet release.
His mind was replaying his dream, echoes of both of your moans filling his ears and the vivid image of you on top of him, something he wished he could plaster in his eyelids, until he heard a knock on the door that made him stop what he was doing
“You okay in there?” He heard you ask from the other side of the door. Shit.
“Huh?” Was all he managed to say.
“Can I come in?”
“No!” He was quick to reply, “I’ll be right out.”
He couldn’t help but be embarrassed, feeling like a teenage boy who was just caught getting off where he wasn’t supposed to. He was ready to just go back out and act like he wasn’t just jerking off to a dream he just had.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You asked. You didn’t hear him say anything after that, and you instantly regretted interrupting him. Maybe that was something he needed to do alone. Maybe he needed a release but didn’t need… you.
Those thoughts were interrupted when you heard shuffling inside, followed by footsteps that got louder as he got closer to the door.
Lando opened it, his hair messy and his shirt wet from stuffing it in his mouth. “Yes, please,” he said with begging eyes.
You crashed your lips into him, pulling him back to the bed.
“I can’t believe you were doing that without me,” you said against his lips.
“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap, hands falling on your hips as he brought you closer to him.
You moaned when you felt his hard cock against you. “And keep this from me?” You asked as you moved your hips.
He bucked his hips involuntarily, the friction feeling delicious against your wet core. You kept moving on top of him as he discarded your sleeping garments, falling somewhere on the floor. You decided to do the same for him, getting rid of his shirt and running your hands up and down his muscles.
Neither of you could control the sounds that were falling from your lips, and yours only got louder when his right hand sneaked between your almost naked bodies to find your folds. He pushed one finger inside you, pumping vigorously.
“Mhm, already so wet for me,” he mumbled against your skin, his lips travelling down your neck.
“Couldn’t help it, it sounded like you were having fun in the bathroom,” you said, and you could feel a smirk creeping on his lips.
“Well, you drive me crazy even in my dreams.”
“Is that what happened?”
He hummed in response. “You should’ve seen how pretty you looked riding me.”
“Let’s make it come true then.” You pushed him on his back and got rid of his last piece of clothing, letting you see how needy his cock was.
You admired him for a moment, and you could see him struggling to keep his hands to himself. When you finally decided you were ready, you started crawling to get on top of him, your hands landing on his bare chest.
“Ready?”
“I’m always ready for you.” He replies, as sweet as ever. “Fuck, you’re so wet and beautiful,” Lando said, holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable, both of your legs on either side of him. He gave your hips a hard squeeze as you got situated, just like in his dream.
You finally took his cock in your hand, stroking it slowly as you guided it to your dripping hole, a sigh of relief leaving your mouths when you sank down.
He groaned as his grip on your hips tightened when you lifted and sank back down onto him slowly.
“Feels good, baby?”
“So, so good.” His head fell back into the pillows when you rolled against him, and you couldn’t help but smile when he whimpered again. After a moment, he looked up at you. “Y/N?” He moaned your name, but it sounded more like a question.
You brushed a stray of his dark curls off his forehead. “Yeah?”
He let out another moan, his eyes falling to where you’re connected before meeting your eyes. “Faster, please.” And you listened, you began to ride him faster. “Just like that, baby,” Lando cried out.
You moaned as his dick spread you out. You began to bounce down faster and harder. Lando was losing his mind as he watched you move faster, your nails scratching down his torso. He was filling you so good he had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head every time his cock hit that sweet spot.
“Not gonna last long,” he warned you, his thumb finding your clit without even looking, although his eyes were on you the entire time, all of you, how your pussy looked as it swalowed his cock, how your boobs bounced with every roll of your hips, how your face contortioned in pleasure, and how your mouth fell open to let out the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He didn’t dare to look away; in case he was dreaming again, he didn’t wanna miss a single detail, and let’s face it, he didn’t wanna wake up this time.
“I’m close,” you breathed out, your legs burning from riding him, but you didn’t care; you only cared about how good he felt inside you.
“Cum with me, baby.” Both his hands returned to your hips, gripping them as he planted his feet on the bed to thrust up into you and help you move faster and more aggressively, trying to push you both over your edges.
Your own hand went to rub small circles where you were missing him as your other one fell on his shoulder to hold onto something, and before you knew it, you were coming around him. Your toes curled into the sheets, and your body trembled on top of his, making you fall forward and collapse across his defined chest.
"Fuck,” he whimpered when you squeezed him repeatedly.
Lando had to do all the work himself, thrusting his hips upwards to meet yours, because your body wouldn’t and couldn’t move anymore as your orgasm racked through you. With four hard thrusts to your cunt, his load of cum shot up into your pussy and coated your slick walls.
Your bodies laid together as you both tried to catch your breath. His hand was rubbing your back, and his lips left a kiss on your temple, something he always did after you had sex.
“So, you had a sex dream?” You asked after a moment of silence. Lando chuckled at your question, kissing your shoulder softly before replying.
“And you just made it come true.”
#lando norris#ln4#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#f1#formula 1#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#giannaln4 writes
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we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader
You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.
wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit
tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...
a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)
Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.
It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.
You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.
Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve.
While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it.
Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.
You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.
And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.
About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly.
About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar.
Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you.
About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp.
About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room.
About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you.
“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.
“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”
You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.
“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end.
You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.
“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do.
Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect.
“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”
Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch.
You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock.
He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.
Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.
“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.
The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.
You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy.
Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person.
“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.
You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.
---
Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.
He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit.
Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point.
Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend.
Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.
Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.
Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off.
He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him.
He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big.
He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.
“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion.
“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him.
You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.
“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”
“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them.
“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”
You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.
He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his.
He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you.
---
Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.
Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer.
But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.
You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.
You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–
There Spencer is.
“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”
“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”
You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”
“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”
You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”
Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot.
Do you make him… nervous?
“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.
No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought.
Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you.
You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart.
So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.
You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?”
“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”
“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”
Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”
“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one.
“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”
“And what makes you say that?” You hum.
“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”
“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”
His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”
You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.
“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”
“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his.
It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.
“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”
“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”
“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”
“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.
You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”
“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”
Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”
“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”
“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame.
You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”
“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”
Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”
“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out.
“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”
Spencer grins. “Good.”
His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”
“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.
You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.
“Fuck me, Spence,” you say.
Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.”
His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.
“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender.
“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.
You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.
“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling.
“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”
You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.
“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.
Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”
You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”
“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.
“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”
“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take.
“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.
“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”
You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.
He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.
The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencerreidenjoyer writes
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form of affection
✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader
— everything feels... new.
w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist
you messed up.
"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.
again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.
"baby?"
you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?
"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"
"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.
"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."
"it's just—"
"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."
it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…
you're embarrassed.
the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.
"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"
"…today."
"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"
"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."
chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—
"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"
despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.
"found it?"
nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."
a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.
but in the mean time,
you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.
"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"
"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."
and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,
"anything for my girl."
©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡
#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#bang chan fluff#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#bang chan imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan scenarios#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#bang chan fanfic#stray kids au#skz au#bang chan au#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#bang chan x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#bang chan x you#stray kids#skz#bang chan#isa's fics
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CAUGHT ON CAMERA — starring f!reader x na jaemin (ft. jeno and haechan, the perverts)
jeno and haechan know they can always count on their best friend, jaemin, and that's why they borrow his camera for a project. they just didn't expect to get the wrong camera... and enjoy every second of it.
content 𖹭 jaem!big dick, sex tape (size diff, breeding, stomach bulge, fingering, slight nipple sucking, m!oral + cum eating), m!masturbation
notes 𖹭 another big thanks for my baby @sinisxtea for proofreading this!
it wasn't unusual to see na jaemin walking around the campus carrying a camera and photographing everything he found cool. the devoted photography student had an unique artistic view, in his mind, anything could be turned into art. ordinary objects, situations and even some students were his objects of art, but there was only one thing, precious enough to worth his devotion: you. jaemin's object of adoration. he was so committed to you and to show the beauty of every single thing you'd do, he bought a camera exclusively for you.
that camera was special. It could only support videos and photos of you. you could be doing anything. playing with stray cats, eating, painting your nails, putting on some makeup, but his favourite moments were the intimate ones.
jaemin just... he couldn't handle your preciousness. in every aspect, he felt the need, the urge to capture and keep your beauty. especially when you put on a little show just to show him your new lingerie set. or maybe when you were choking with his cock down your throat, your makeup smudged all over your face. fuck... he could list every video that the camera had ever captured.
and knowing how committed, na jaemin, a third-year photography student, was to his major, donghyeok, his roommate, thought he could borrow one of his cameras for a project.
“did you even ask him for it, you dumbass? what if he took his camera with him?” jeno comments, leaning on the door frame, watching his friend search for one of the most valuable items for jaemin.
“wasn't he just driving his girl home? why does he need a camera for that?” the younger cusses, messing with jaemin's drawer.
“sure, but you know how in love he is and how he just keeps anything she does.” jeno rolls his eyes, almost giving up on convincing his friend to find an object he didn't even ask permission to use.
“finally!” donghyeok laid his eyes on something deep in the closet. he takes the camera and closes the doors.
“i still think that's the worst idea you've ever had. what if jaemin sees a picture of you there? especially if it's on the camera that, again, was deep in his closet.” jeno emphasizes his last words, trying to knock some sense into his friend, but knowing he wouldn't listen, he just adds: “at least check to see if it's charged.”
“that's what i'm trying to do...” donghyeok says focused. the two guys were already sitting in the corner of jaemin's bed. he turned the camera on and you are the first thing they saw, wearing a flowy light blue dress. jaemin and you were on a date and you were showing how to make your boyfriend's favourite sandwich. “how can someone be so pretty...” he murmurs, sighing.
“i don't know...” jeno says, letting himself get lost at the sound of your voice and how your beaming smile could lighten up his whole day. honestly, they can get where all of jaemin's adoration comes from. if he had a girlfriend like you, he'd also keep every single moment to himself. then he realized what he was thinking. “but she's our best friend's girlfriend, right? the camera is fully charged, we can see it, then c'mon.” he stands up, but donghyeok immediately pulls him to sit again.
“c'mon jen, we're already here. this might be the camera he dedicated to her. don't you wanna see more of this... damn sculpture? you sure?” the younger lee skips some photos and videos, stopping at a video where you're wearing a bikini. you were laughing with jaemin while taking off your sundress, talking about going to the water. the focus goes all to your ass, while you walk to the water and they can hear jaemin's mischievous laugh along with a perverted comment.
they knew it wasn't cool to desire their best friend's girlfriend, but were they the ones to blame when you looked that pretty? you looked like some fancy masterpiece sculpted by michelangelo in his peak of inspiration. are they the ones to blame when you looked like aprodithe's daughter yourself, being allowed to live among those poor and useless human beings, gifting them your graciousness? you must be the girl of every guy's dream and they're lucky to have a best friend good enough to win a lotto. at least they get to see you often.
as donghyeok passed the videos, the two guys found themselves more and more immersed in you. and jaemin is completely right to be obsessed with you.
“holy fuck...” haechan whispers, licking his lips before biting his lower lip. jeno comes closer, eyes wide open when he notices what's happening on the video.
“come here.” Jaemin's voice is heard and you comply. you crawl to the corner of the bed, where your boyfriend was, and sit still.
you were wearing an expensive lingerie set that was driving not only one, but three men crazy. the bra hugged your breasts so prettily that they wondered if they'd fit that good in their hands.
“nana... your cock...” you let out a whiny plea. almost purring like a cat. your sparkling eyes, begging your boyfriend to stop flauting you to the camera and to let you suck on him.
it's not that hard to deduce that jaemin may have been lowering his pants.
“haechan, enough.” jeno warns, trying to be rational, but yet his eyes were glued on the little screen that was showing you, kitty licking jaemin's tip, teasing him. you were even rubbing his cock between your breasts, slobbering on it.
“fuck it, he's not here to see what we're doing.” donghyeok says in a low voice, holding the camera in one hand, as the other was lowering his shorts.
“haechan, what the fuck!” the older lee exclaims, completely shocked with his friend's attitude.
“jeno, if you don't wanna stay, then leave. and you better don't open that fucking mouth of yours to jaemin.” he spits on his palm, before dragging it along his shaft, lubricating his length. “but you can't deny the obvious.” haechan laughs, looking at jeno’s pants, before turning his full attention to the video.
jaemin's hand was guiding your head, sucking him off as if it was your life goal. you sucked his tip, forcing your tongue on his slit, making your boyfriend cuss, and squeeze lightly his full balls. he's so fucking good at what he's doing, and so are you. shortly after, he's pulling your hair, prying you off of his cock.
“open that pretty mouth of yours, huh?” he asks, jerking off right on your mouth. In a matter of few seconds, you can taste his salty cum on your tongue and you swallow when he spills more on your boobs.
jeno was standing, thinking about this whole situation. he looked at his friend having fun and looks at his own problem, getting more uncomfortable. the way donghyeok looked so satisfied watching whatever was happening on the screen awakened his interest and desire. fuck, she was his best friend's girlfriend, but... she was fucking pretty and when would he get any opportunity like that again?
“this might be harassment or something like that…” he mumbles, retaking his place beside his friend and frees his cock out of his pants. jeno could see haechan's mischievous smile, so he said first: “don't you even get started, you nasty dog.” even with that said, donghyeok didn't seem very offended, after all, who is he to say anything?
by this time you were already laying in bed, your legs spread for jaemin and the camera, consequently, the two perverts watching that. your glistening cunt gushing your juices, while your boyfriend collected every drop of it with his long fingers, teasing your slit.
“how many?” jaemin asks, threatening to insert the tip of two of his fingers, but never doing it.
“three, nana…” you whine, biting your lower lip, watching your boyfriend smile and tease you, the same way you'd do to him. that's until he inserts the three fingers you requested, all at once.
haechan was sure that sweet, languid, moan would linger in his mind forever. jeno, on the other hand, was sure he will never be able to look at his friend and his girlfriend again. he'd rather throw himself off of the window. as soon as he cums.
with each movement of jaemin's fingers, the wet squelching sound could be heard. it made your eyes roll while jeno and haechan make it an opportunity to fasten their own movements. jeno gulps, looking straight at your wet hole, salivating. fuck, he imagines how good it must be to feel you. he's sure you're tight and nice to be inside of. he tighten his grip, forcing his cock on a tighter hole. haechan also salivates, watching how good you take jaemin's fingers. he stops his hand's movements, thrusting his hips up, imagining it was your pussy he was fucking.
jaemin takes his fingers out of you and the boys could suppose what he was doing. he was tasting you on his own fingers. haechan curses, caressing his balls, and closes his eyes, catching his lower lip between his teeth. jeno slows his rhythm, tracing his fingers along his abs.
your boyfriend hovers over you and kisses you. his free hand traces your body, searching for your bra's clasp, undoing it. you discard the piece, feeling jaemin's wet kisses on your skin, and then you feel his plump lips wrapping around your nipple. you shiver feeling your boyfriend's warm tongue, hugging him.
“jaem…” you call, almost like crying, and jaemin smiles against your skin, understanding well your wish. he pulls the mound of flesh between his teeth making you hiss.
“how could i deny you?” he mocks and stands up, taking off his pants. when he resumes his position above you, he rests his cock on your tummy.
and that's when they realize how smaller than jaemin you are.
“no fucking way! this won't fit, no shit.” donghyeok smiled, clearly having fun. “this might be better than some cheap ass porn i've ever watched in my life.” his eyes lighten up with excitement. jeno only nods, lost in pleasure.
jaemin rubs his tip on your slit, forcing himself slowly. “no matter how many times i fuck you... will you ever open enough for me, darling?” he growls, getting even further inside you.
“jaem, it's too big!” you whine, gripping the bed sheets and closing your eyes, arching your back.
for a moment, your boobs shake and donghyeok loves it, almost losing it. he considers replay that part, but maybe another time, when he's alone.
when jaemin is fully inside you and the bulge is perfectly visible, jeno cums with a grunt. haechan laughs, teasing his friend. “good job, jen! hit it that fast?”
“shut the fuck up, lee donghyeok.” jeno grits his teeth. the truth is, jeno has a thing for bulge. it was the first thing he searched for when he was trying to relieve some stress. it was the first thing he thought when getting laid and now... knowing you were so small that a bulge was surely made on your belly made him see stars.
jaemin moves. starts slow, helping you get used to his size, even if you had done it plenty of times before, he was too big for you, no matter how many times when you were fucked by him, but then he picks up his pace. his hand presses the bulge on your stomach for a while, before gripping your thigh. his rhythm is rough, intense, so much that it makes your breasts move at each snap of his hips. and haechan felt like he was in heaven.
your moans starts to get more desperate and high-pitched. you call your boyfriend's name like a mantra while resting one of your hands on his stomach. jaemin doesn't stop, only picking up his pace, getting even rougher. he feels your pussy gripping his cock, identifying your orgasm. your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your mouth remains wide open for a while until you feel it dry, feeling jaemin squirting all of his seed inside of you.
“you fine, love?” he asks, slowing down his pace, only so you can come down off your high. you can just nod.
jaemin finally turns his camera, focusing right where your bodies meet. he thrusts a few more times, before getting out of you. the moment his cum is seen dripping out of you like a cascade is when haechan loses it, cumming with a whiny moan.
jaemin says something else, but the boys could care less, so donghyeok turns off the camera, putting it on the bed. jeno and haechan remain in silence for a moment.
“this might be the best thing my eyes have ever seen.” “that must be the gayest thing i've ever done.” they say at the same time.
“what?” haechan says.
“c'mon, i saw your cock. plus, i had to hear you moan like a whore. i'm getting insane…” jeno stands up angry, covering his dick again.
“oh, right, 'cause you moan like an alpha, huh?” the younger lee also stands up, bringing the camera with him.
“where do you think you're going with this, haechan?” jeno questions, watching his friend walk past him with the camera in hands.
“if you think i'm not enjoying this pretty little thing right here while i can, you're stupid. and you better not to try and jerk off with me. once was enough.” he says, leaving the room and an astonished jeno behind.
poor jeno, little does he know that haechan won't only watch. maybe he can upload some videos too. seeing jaemin's cock was a little price to pay when he was able to see all of you, spread and wet again.
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A headcanon of Percy Jackson x reader daughter of Zeus, where he has been in love since the first day he saw her, and he had also recently arrived at the camp, please
˒ ⌕ SHE IS LIKE THUNDER
parings: percy jackson x zeus!reader
an:I know I disappeared, forgive me 🤧, but picture me writing this at 3 AM, dying of sleepiness after watching the last episode of PJO, AND ANNIE USED THE NICKNAME 😭 THIS EPISODE IS STILL TOO MUCH FOR ME TO PROCESS!!!!
summary: the one where you're a daughter of zeus, exploring your relationship with percy.
( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )
You and Percy crossed paths during one of your training sessions. Luke was giving Percy a tour of the camp, and when Percy laid eyes on you, he halted abruptly, as if struck by lightning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt an urgent need to know who you were, as if the gods themselves demanded it.
Percy's eyes widened as he observed you from across the training grounds. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing a finger in your direction. Luke suppressed a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Her? Oh, that's Y/N, daughter of Zeus." Percy squinted, trying to decipher your actions, as you accidentally summoned a small lightning bolt that fizzled out near your feet. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does that happen often?" Luke grinned. "Only when she's particularly excited, which, by the way, is most of the time. You should see her during thunderstorms!" Percy blinked, watching as you waved sheepishly, causing another faint spark to crackle in the air.
You and Percy found common ground in venting about the gods upon his arrival.
"Hey, little thunder, how's it going?" Percy grinned. "Don't call me that," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm good too, thanks for asking, Lightning Rod," Percy joked, emphasizing his newfound nickname for you.
Attempts at using your powers together proved futile, as water and electricity didn't exactly make for a harmonious combination.
According to Percy, Cabin 3 was way too big for just him, and assuming you felt the same way about Cabin 1, he started a tradition. At 12:00, he'd show up at your cabin, asking to share it, turning into a routine of hosting pajama parties in each other's cabins.
After you discovered that your half-sister, Thalia, had been turned into a pine tree to save her, Percy couldn't resist teasing you about it.
"Do you think your dad would turn you into, what, a fountain? Or maybe a cherry blossom tree would suit you?" Percy grinned, enjoying the opportunity to rib you. "Jackson, shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes at his antics. Later, when Grover and Annabeth intervened, trying to keep you two from frying each other, Percy couldn't resist a parting shot. He had soaked you with water from a nearby forest stream during the mission, leaving you drenched and fueling your desire to electrocute him. "Next time you want to electrocute Percy, make sure I'm not around," Annabeth teased as they separated you, noticing your soaked state. Grover, being the peacekeeper, started singing the song of friendship, encouraging both of you to hug it out and apologize. Percy, however, observed that you were shivering from the cold as you walked. Realizing this, he handed you his jacket, concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you stay wet like this," he said, offering you warmth amidst the chilly aftermath of your water-based altercation.
Since neither you nor Percy admit to having feelings for each other, you find yourselves in constant teasing and banter.
During a mission, you two start a squabble because you want to lead everything, and he just wants to do his thing or isn't paying attention to what you're saying. Grover and Annabeth exchange glances, seeking a way to mediate.
It takes a long time before you muster the courage to admit you have feelings for the son of Poseidon. You decide to confess first because, knowing Percy, it would take ages if you waited for him.
"Percy, I need to talk in case we don't get out of here." "Spark Plug, we're getting out of here; trust me." "I like you, Seaweed Brain." He stands there in shock, mouth hanging open, unable to believe that you like him back.
After Percy managed to confess that he also liked you, you enjoyed teasing him about his stunned reaction. But deep down, you were terrified that he might have said he didn't like you back.
Percy becomes incredibly protective of you.
"Touch her, and you'll be dead."
You love stormy days and spend hours on the beach with Percy because he can control the water, ensuring you both stay dry.
"Isn't it beautiful?" "What, little storm?" You pause, gazing out at the tumultuous sea, the waves crashing against the shore. "It's like the ocean is in harmony with this storm. It's as if they understand each other, finding peace in the chaos." "Maybe," Percy finally responds, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Maybe storms and the sea have a way of finding peace in chaos because they understand that even in the wildest moments, there's a certain kind of order."
You appreciate the profound simplicity of his words, and in that moment, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. For the first time in a long while, you feel at home
#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson oneshot#percy jackson fanfiction#percy jackson fic#percy jackson x oc#zeus reader#pjo fanfic#pjo series#pjo x reader#pjo x you#walker scobell#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson headcanon
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DESIRE ୨୧
logan howlett x mutant!reader
cw: flirty, slightly nsfw
a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.
"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.
inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.
on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.
everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.
beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.
Way down along the stream
How sweet it will seem
Once more just to dream
In the moonlight
My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn
That you will be gone
But tonight
You belong to me
revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.
"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."
"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.
logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.
"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.
"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.
"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"
"no, we need to leave."
"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"
even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.
"tryin' to save you" he grunts.
"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.
"i'm not."
logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.
suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.
"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.
this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.
"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.
"charles xavier?"
in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.
"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.
"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."
visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.
"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."
the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.
"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."
you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.
"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."
logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.
you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.
logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.
"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.
"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.
"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.
logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman wolverine#wolverine#wolverine angst#logan howlett angst#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan wolverine#old man logan#old man logan x reader#old man!logan#wolverine fluff#wolverine one shot#wolverine x oc#logan howlett fluff#hugh jackman#wolverine x you#x men comics#x men#marvel cinematic universe#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu
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omitted thoughts 𝜗𝜚 s.r
۶ৎ in which the tension between you and Spencer at work is almost too much to bare; lingering eyes and longing needs that are ignorant to the people around you, but all too easily perceived by the other.
who? spencer x bau!reader when? s8 category: smut content warnings: (maeve plotline does not exist, emily is still with the bau) munch spencer, tension here–tension there–tension everywhere, thorough foreplay (as in practically the entire fic), sexual acts, not too explicit, no dom/sub really mentioned–though spencer is a little more confident, proofed! reid with pleasure... word count: 11.4k a/n: munch spencer as per requested by an anon!! this one has been in my filing cabinet for a while, so i'm glad i've finally gotten to write it out... also, new format–hey! okay i'll stop rambling... enjoy!!
There is a moment in every person’s life when they just know something sinister is about to unfold. That feeling found its way to you the exact moment the mixup with the rooms happened. It was bound to occur, it wasn’t like it was inevitable–you of all people were accustomed. Though, to be particularly truthful, it wasn’t the mixup that strangled your thoughts, no, it wasn’t as trivial as that.
What had your heart racing–your mind running–was that you were paired with Spencer. You should have said something. You were sure Emily would switch with you in a heartbeat–she and Spencer got along well enough, that it wouldn’t be a favor at all. However, even with this knowledge, you kept your mouth shut.
It was something in your gut, something in the darkest parts of your mind that swayed the moral, logical side.
It was late and the dimly lit hall only had so much life. You noted the old, peeling, pee-colored wallpaper; red flowers straying to and fro–if you tried hard enough, you could almost picture how it must have looked like in its prime.
Spencer made no effort to talk and for this you were grateful. You hadn’t had the chance to get too close to him in the few months you’ve been with the team. You were new, but not unaccustomed–you had been transferred almost six months ago with the help of thorough recommendations and pure skill–though you never pulled rank.
Hotch seemed a nice enough dad-boss, Rossi gave the impression of a comedic uncle most of the time, Morgan took his role as the older brother, Emily and JJ were great mentors and you were thrilled to be working alongside them, and you found Penelope to be a strong aunt-like figure. Spencer, though, you weren’t too sure where he fell in the categories you had enlisted just yet.
He was a great mystery, one you were keen to unravel little by little.
“Do you have a preferred side?” Spencer asked after completing a skim with his bedbug flashlight.
“No,” you glanced around the room, two queen beds sat adjacent to each other only separated by a mediocre bedside table. A home phone sat close to the bed nearest the door and a lamp sat closest to the bed nearest the AC and window. The old, red velvet curtains were pulled back in what you thought was meant to be a kind gesture. Nevertheless, for an unknown reason, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “But, I do think we should close those,” you sighed, setting your duffle bag in the only chair in the room.
Spencer set his things on the bed near the window. You began untying the curtain closest to the bathroom. A shiver crawled up your spine as the air around you grew dry, you were seriously hoping for hot water. You meant to throw Spencer a hopeful glance, praying he’d let you take a shower first–but your eyes caught his hands instead. He was working his sleeves back, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.
His sweater vest had been discarded and now lay in a bunched-up pile near his suitcase. You found yourself tracking his every move. He didn’t take notice of your stare until after he’d untied the curtain and met it with the one you had undid. You swiftly averted your eyes and swallowed, finding your throat had gone dry.
You cleared your throat and pushed your hair away, giving Spencer nothing but back, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to shower first.”
Seconds ticked by and he said nothing, only when you heard a bed squeak did you turn back around. Spencer took up a space at the head of his bed, watching you with a look you were sure you’d never seen cross his face, it was almost smug, but not in the normal sense of the word–as indescribable as it was, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You weren’t too sure what it made you feel.
“Is–is that a yes?” Your face felt hot, and you wanted to slap your hands to it, knowing it’d cool down somewhat, but you forced your hands to remain at your side.
“Yeah, sure,” he quipped, his voice the complete opposite of what his eyes conveyed.
You nodded and hurried over to your bag, leaving it at the foot of your bed when heading into the bathroom, which is where you found it upon exiting.
Spencer had pulled pajamas out, they were neatly folded beside him. “I’d wait a little before showering,” you frowned, “sorry, I must have been in there for ages,” your mouth lilted in a slight smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and took up residence near the bedside table, “next time, just to tell me I’m taking too long, I won’t mind.”
He chuckled and you grinned, elated you finally were able to ease the unnecessary tension that had come over the two of you during your staring contest in the moments right before your shower.
“Seriously?” He sounded mirthful and when you looked up his eyes caught yours, your heart studded and you found your cheeks heating up again. He had an eyebrow raised slightly and the small smile that accompanied his expression gave off the impression he was teasing, “You’d be fine with me just walking into the bathroom while you’re in the shower?”
Your eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion and you couldn’t help the awkward smile that wouldn’t leave your mouth, “I was just joking, Spencer, but–if I am taking too long you can bang on or yell through the door.
He nodded, looking away, “I–I know, I was just messing with you.”
“Oh, please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to crush the way your thoughts raced at the way you absolutely would not give a half a damn if he did. You pressed your hand to your cheeks for a few seconds before continuing to move things out of your bag, you were thinking about how to arrange them in the large chifforobe directly across from your bed. Did Spencer hav–you gasped and dropped an article of clothing as if it had burned you.
“That was not–” you scorned yourself, that was completely inappropriate. You blinked over a few times, thinking it would make the image disappear well from your mind, but it only served to intensify the phantasmagoria.
“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer was at your side after three blinks. Your eyes widened as he reached for your hands that were opening and closing, trying to grasp any control over yourself.
You stood abruptly, unable to be in any sort of vicinity he was near. “I’m fine–I just, I remembered, I forgot something in the lobby. It must have fallen.” You shrugged, forcing a horrid excuse for a smile onto your lips. You left the room, heading straight for the elevator. You needed the cold-biting air of December to slap some sense into you, it was almost January, thus winter should have been approaching its peak right about now.
You have never–okay, yes, you’ve had small torrent thoughts of coworkers in somewhat unprofessional manners, but none had ever been so vivid–not like the one you had just then. As the elevator opened, you tried assembling the course of thoughts that had led up to the–the Spencer one.
It only took a few minutes for you to understand thinking about it was useless. There was no coherent explanation for the thought you had, no indication of any type of build-up that might have prepared you for the fabrication.
“His eyes,” you heard yourself murmur as the elevator let you off onto the first floor. You ignored the receptionist whom you recognized from only a few hours ago. The glass door was as easily pushed open as it was to pull; the biting air hit your face and you sighed, relief allowing you to breathe once more.
His sleeves were rolled up, your arms laced around his neck as you pulled him against your flushed, exposed skin. You were nearly naked and all but begging him. You had it. His attention. Every single piece of it.
And you were relishing it as he fucked you against that damned chifforobe.
You were startled by the discovery of Spencer’s presence as he pushed open one of the glass doors of the hotel. The carpark was desolate save for the two of you and you felt more vulnerable than you had felt in the daydream.
“Hey,” Spencer lifted his hand slightly, sticking it back in his pocket right after as if he’d cringed at himself.
“Oh, hi,” you pressed your lips into a thin smile, squeezing your eyes so as not to give away the fact that you did not want him to be there.
“You–kind of ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” his eyes traced up and down your body as if in search of something. A slight smirk grazed his lips, but it was quickly replaced with a frown that felt a little too compelled, “did you find what you were looking for?”
“Nope,” you squeaked, rocking back and forth on your heels. You squeezed your hands together behind your back like you were in prayer or giving thanks, “sorry for bringing you out here, I thought I lost something important and overreacted.”
He didn’t acknowledge your answer immediately, though he did step forward and when he took another step forward, you were inclined to take a step back because you thought the proximity might prompt you to do or say something you definitely shouldn’t be doing or saying with a coworker. He raised his hand to your face, the back of his hand rested on one of your cheeks, your eyes shut on impact, your hands separated and were not fisted.
Your eyes opened when a few low chuckles escaped Spencer’s mouth, he huffed out a few more before pulling his hand back and using it to cover his mouth…watching you. His eyes held that same smug amusement that you’re sure you’ve never seen before this night.
You met his stare, noting that with the coverage of his hand, his expression was just a bit easier to read. Your lips settled into a thin line as you concluded he was messing with you. You cast an unbothered expression over your face, though you felt anything but. “I think the water should be hot enough now.”
Disregarding the moral obligation of waiting for a response, you headed for the hotel’s entrance.
The elevator ride-up wasn’t as tense as you would have thought it to be. You could feel a calm rest over each other’s company. It was almost like a mutual understanding that did not need voicing. Back in the hotel room, Spencer headed into the bathroom without a word, again, you found yourself grateful he decided to spare you.
Even so, you did find it just a bit peculiar because Spencer had never before taken on any particular interest in you, sure you shared conversations–that was to be expected though, as you worked with him. You shared meals and nights out, though only when it was a group thing.
To be sure he drew your curiosity, but you never once thought about indulging in your secret desire because it just never seemed right. This mixup had felt like a gift from God when it was first introduced, because now–you had thought–we’ll be forced to be around each other, no doubt we’ll grow somewhat accustomed to each other’s habits.
Perhaps the thought was a bit excessive, but it was simply the truth to you. How else were you to casually approach Dr. Spencer Reid? The youngest to be scouted in his field?
Well, you now thought grimly, scratch all that, he’s just a genius with an ego.
You approached the chifforobe hesitantly, then hastily sorted your clothing in a few drawers and on a few hangers that were already there. As you set your duffle bag at the bottom of the large space, you heard the shower squeak off and Spencer called your name.
You rolled your eyes but walked toward the bathroom, calling from your side of the closed door, “what?”
“I,” his voice cut off and just when you thought you had waited long enough, the bathroom door swung open halfway and Spencer leaned out.
The first thing you noticed–though unintentionally–was the steam that hit you in the face. You squinted and waved a hand before you, “Jeez, Spencer.”
His face–his hair was wet and water dripped down his head–looked a bit painted, “I left my towel in my bag, get it for me?”
He sounded genuinely displeased at the situation, which is why you huffed and replied, “Fine.”
“Thank you,” he yelled, shutting the door again. You ignored the flip your stomach did and shivered.
He had left his suitcase open, his things in a bit of disarray across the bed. You wavered only a moment before letting your hands fly up and down his things. His towel was quite easily discovered, though your eyes lingered on the rest of his things.
You stood and headed back toward the bathroom, knocking. Spencer appeared instantly, a smile spreading to his face. The steam had cooled somewhat, but the bathroom–you could tell–was still very much sauna-like. “Thank you.”
“You said that already.”
He raised a brow, his smile quirking, “thank you, again.”
He stole the towel and shut the door, leaving you standing there. You felt impulsive and thought there would be no way you could get through this entire trip by sharing a room with him. And yet, it was your job, and it would no doubt be questioned, you’d probably–by accident–allude to something that did not occur, and you’d both be in trouble for something so ridiculous: it shouldn’t even be a thought that crossed your mind when you looked at your coworker and yet–the bathroom door opened and Spencer walked out in only a towel–it did.
“What do you think you're doing?” You called from your bed, standing.
“It’s too moist in there, I won’t dry.” He replied as if it were a fact and not an atrocity.
“Yeah–but–” you bit your lip, eyes tracking up and down his torso, something you should most unquestionably not be doing.
He was bent over his things on the bed near the window, you turned your gaze on the floor when his eyes flickered to yours. “But what?” He paused, probably noting your expression, your pursed lips, and your unstill gaze. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can go back in. I don’t want to–I’m sorry.” You swore you could hear a lilt in his voice when he began, but it quickly turned into something more…appropriate–like he just realized the embarrassment of what he was doing. He gathered his clothes again and headed for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in damp garments.
And though his frown said ‘I’m sorry,’ his eyes said, ‘I’m going to give you hell’. And hell it was. For the rest of the trip, you could swear Spencer did…things purposefully. Such as lifting his shirt slightly to wipe his face when he got out of the shower, turning his neck just barely so that your gaze would catch on the exposed collarbone. You swore up and down that these were being done on purpose just to make you squirm because–because–well you didn’t really know why Spencer was doing all that.
But you knew it was for you, that was about the only thing you knew to be fact. Your nose scrunched as you recalled the looks he’d given you after every purposeful act–in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to see your reaction–as if he gets off on it.
The jet ride home was no exception to Spencer’s antics, but by this time you had decided for yourself you’d had enough of falling victim to him. You concluded that there could only be one reason Spencer was acting the way he was: because he was attracted to you. You didn’t know why–hell you couldn’t even explain why you were attracted to him in that way–but it piqued your curiosity. If he had the ability to get you to react in such distinct and significant ways, what power did you have over him? That was the dispute you set out to ascertain.
At first, it was harmless, quiet jokes told only loud enough for the two of you to hear. When the jet landed again, you ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, as if trying to stretch. Your eyes popped open just a few minutes later to find Spencer’s eyes eating up everything from your neck to your collarbone. When he met your eyes, they weren’t amused but rather accusing. He had fallen into your trap and he had just now realised. Some genius, you found yourself regarding him with an internal snort.
“We get the day off tomorrow, right?” Emily’s tone was mirthful, full of sarcasm.
“Yeah, right.” Morgan groaned.
Hotch grimaced, “See you all tomorrow.”
“At nine?” Rossi sounded hopeful.
Your boss sighed, eyes: rolling, but a smile etching itself onto his face, “At nine.”
Small victories, a sigh escaped you under your breath, small victories.
You headed for your car, rummaging through your purse for your keys. A presence loomed over you and you froze, Spencer’s hand lightly pressed against your back as he leaned over you and tilted his head downward, “See you tomorrow —…”
Your breath caught and you tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Was this real? Was this not the nerdy little geek you were told you’d be working with? The guy who kept getting kidnapped? The one who could barely hold a gun four years into working in the BAU?
He walked away, down the row of cars, looking for the one he owned.
Despite yourself, your lips curled into a sinful grin. You already loved this game.
The next morning, you caught Spencer stepping into the elevator, “hold the door!” You threw your hand out, as you rushed your footsteps.
The elevator wasn’t crowded, but there were five others you did not know, and they were all men, so naturally you moved closer to Spencer. It wasn’t on purpose, but nor was it an accident, more of an instinct. His presence gave you peace of mind as you calmed yourself down.
“Rough morning?” He asked, appearing nonchalant.
You looked up at him as he took a sip of his coffee. The elevator came to a halt and two people shuffled into the elevator after three others left. Your floor was approaching and you felt easier–especially with the extra space–but when you stepped away, a hand caught your waist.
You followed the arm all the way to Spencer’s gaze, the expression there looked to be a mix of contemplation and confusion. His hand dropped when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He was the first to step out of the elevator, you were the fourth.
Penelope found you on her way to the roundtable, stating the others were already there. You followed her and took the only available seat in between Morgan and JJ. Spencer sat right across from you, between Emily and Rossi. When you caught his eyes, his head tilted slightly and a small smirk danced across his lips in the bright light.
Your eyes rolled and you shifted one leg over the other under the table.
Penelope read off the new case and while many questions were thrown out, you and Spencer kept playing the game of ‘who could make who more embarrassed’; though you both were incredibly refined at your job and were able to keep it from the insight of the others.
Hotch stood and said, “jet’s up in 15,” before rushing out of the room.
You stood as well, needing to collect all the things you might have left on your desk and turn in your report to Hotch you forgot. Rossi had followed your boss–it was probably something about Strauss, it always was whenever they acted like that. Emily, Morgan, and Penelope were having a conversation while JJ said something to Spencer and began a small exchanges. Your eyes were laser focused on her, you felt a sort of conviction fall over you. You didn’t think you were jealous, no–it was anything like that because you knew Spencer was only trying to get under your skin. Instead, you felt a sense of thrill and couldn’t help the smirk that edged its way onto your face as you floated right past them without batting an eye.
You heard his chair squeak as he leaned back, eyes trailing your figure as you exited the roundtable room. Upon approaching your desk you smacked your hands to your cheeks, helping them cool off while ignoring the chatter of the office. You searched your bag a bit until you found the documents you had been looking for.
You froze, you could feel his stare, but when you glanced around, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Your eyes narrowed as you sifted through each and every face, there–in the breakroom behind the glass… Spencer had one hand in his pocket and one holding a mug of coffee, his eyes anything but innocent. He mouthed something, but only when you noted the absense of your other team members were you able to put together his words. We’re leaving.
You met each other in the stairwell of the rooftop, you ignored the simmering in your chest as he veered over you and pushed open the door. He smelled good– god he smelled good. You forced yourself not the make it obvious you were trying to drink in and savor his scent when he let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes popped open–which is when you realized you had shut them. What is wrong with me? You allowed your eyes to track up his face, starting from his shoulders.
He was so close you could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared you donw, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes were hazy and he wasn’t staring at you, but your throat. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When he found your gaze again his jaw yet and he pulled himself together. His eyes were no longer dangerous, but they still set some kind of fear in you.
“We should go,” you murmured.
He didn’t respond until you began moving. He called your name only once, but when you looked back, a grin–small, but fucking there–destroyed his firm calmness from only moments ago, and replaced it with egotistical destruction.
There were so much said in that single expression and yet nothing at all that would have been picked up by a team of profilers, let alone a stranger–it was as if this look was designed specifically for you–designed just to become your undoing. You fucking hated Spencer Reid and his big ass ego, but you wanted him–by all hell you wanted him.
Though you’d soon find that wanting him was nothing compared to needing him.
The rest of the case came and went in a similar manner you had dreamt about the night before. You and Spencer shared lingering looks, murmured things in front of the team that, though made sense in the moment, his the underlying meaning only the two of you could pick up. You honestly found it surprising no one had caught on to what was transpiring between you and Spencer, although to be perfectly honest, you, yourself, had no idea what was transpiring between you and Spencer.
You didn’t seek each other out, but whenever you were together–alone or with others–there was this spark of craving you couldn’t quite explain out loud, and even when you thought about it, you didn’t know the right term for it other than a game. What else could it be? You couldn’t relly put togehter the events that had started it, but you knew it began sometimes on the 3-day case–maybe even that first night in the hotel. A shiver crawled up your spine, you watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, reading. He could normally be found in the front of the jet, lying down and napping or reading.
When you were alone, all your thoughts revolved if not around the case at hand, Spencer. You didn’t want to compare it to an obsession, because what it really was was a little less of that and a little more of a desire to learn him. His body, his mind, his cravings and and fantasies. It was everything you had never felt and it scared you. There was no logical explanation to Spencer being the onset to these emotions, and yet if you’d never met Spencer, who was to say these feelings would have ever been unleashed?
It was late, but you were glad you were going to get to sleep in your bed two nights in a row. It felt like a blessing from the heavens, but then your realzied you’d have to see Spencer again tomorrow and go through the fervency all over again. Now, it felt more like irony.
Weeks of the same longing, the same wandering eyes, the same muttered whispers, the same damn game. Though you’d gotten used to your little gambit of brash actions, you weren’t tired in the least. It was–as sad as you had to admit–the most fun you’d ever had with a person.
It was fun until it became real. The team hadn’t caught on, but that was particularly due to the fact your efforts always occurred out of pure chance. You never made it obvious and he was especially good at hiding his feats, it seemed to you he was consistently able to accomplish his devious acts right under the nose of his superiors.
You reasoned that it was perhaps because none of them would ever suspect him of any of the things he was taking up in his pastime. Not even yourself would have guessed he was like this if he hadn’t shown you, or if you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes always seemed to look the opposite of whatever his face was saying in the moment.
Despite all of this, however, you hadn’t touched–at all, no brush of the hands, no accidental shoulder bumping, nor anything on purpose; not since he’d grabbed your waist in the elevator that first day back at Quantico. The contemplation in his eyes then occurred to you at night. You tried to make out what it meant–to him at least, but never could. It was one of those thoughts that kept you up, staring at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would so its job and prevent the misery that inveitable came without it.
Tonight, though, you didn’t know how you were going to fare against pretending to be with him. It was for the case–you kept reminding yourself as you changed into a little black dress. Everyone looked good in black, it was a color that also hid a person well enough in a club–perfect for an undercover agent.
The decision to have you go in with Spencer instead of JJ was his idea. Of course it was his. He’d proposed the switchup at the roundtable meeting that morning–and as soon as he had, you’d jolted in your seat. He’d continued talking, glancing at you now and then as if he’d actually believed the difference between you and JJ would matter.
Regardless, because you were closer in age–by only a few years, you’d wanted to remind everyone–it’d be more believable that you were together, he’d also dropped an “it’d be more comfortable that way”, which swayed Morgan and Emily, JJ kept silent during the entire tirade–though not angry, was incredibly, almost blatantly long.
You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at the time you weren’t too much focussed on her, the looming fact that you’d have to touch him in ways you’d only thought about touching him to do your job? It terrified you. Not because you were afraid of acting out your fantasy–but because you weren’t sure if you could control yourself enoug to where it was just acting.
You slipped the dainty dress on and hid your gun and badge in your boots. You let your natural hair fall loose, but kept a hair tie on your wrist. Stepping out of the only bathroom in the police station you were currently residing in, holding your work clothes against your chest , you noted the imminent stares. Instinctively using your clothing to cover your thighs as you met the others in the front. Spencer kept his eyes in check–smart boy, you bit back a smirk–but the rest of the team complimented you, Hotch and Rossi having almost completely different ways of doing so, you snorted at the contrast.
Spencer took the driver seat of a vehicle you were borrowing, the dark of a December night threatening to conceal the thing entirely. You gazed out the window, “they’re following us right?”
“Everyone will be outside and prepared.”
“I can’t believe this,” you sighed, throwing your head back.
“The fact that we’re going undercover or the fact that you have to wear that piece of cloth?” Spencer asked, though his manner was light, there was a rough undertone that heated your insides.
“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” you sighed carelessly, waving a hand, “I just thought you hadn’t noticed.”
“Everyone noticed.” The mask of his facade was slowly slipping away, revealing a much colder side to Spencer–one you had the pleasure of seeing more and more of the past three weeks than in all of the six months you’d been in the BAU.
“Yeah,” you smooth down the dress, “I wouldn’t normally wear this type of thing out unless I was looking to bring someone home.”
“Oh really?” You could practically hear his eyebrows raise. “You never wear things like that when we go out for drinks.”
“Precisely my point,” you quipped.
Spencer pulled into the club’s parkinglot. It took you less than five minutes to get inside. At first, you were sitting at the bar, but then, Spencer, with the earpiece attached to him, relayed the message from Hotch. Penelope had given everyone access to the inside of the club, they were watching you two through the cameras. You forced yourself not to glance at them–even the tiniest slipup could reveal you to the unsub, and you wanted them to target, not avoid you.
“They want us to dance.” Spencer sighed loud enough to where you could hear it over the noise.
“Right,” you rolled your eyes, because that’s exactly how the unsubs target their victims–didn’t we go over this in the profile? Your smile tightened as you spun and headed for the floor, crowded by so many–oh that’s not hygienic.
“Yeah, okay, maybe we skip this part,” Spencer grimaced from his palace beside you.
“You think?” You raised an unimpressed brow at the blurred figures in front of you.
He murmured something Hotch and they went back and forth a little, though you couldn’t hear exactly what was said, Spencer’s face of triumph was all you needed to breathe a sigh of relief.
You found yourselves hiding in the corner at the back, there weren’t many people crowding around you which made you perfect for the unsubs, though the appearance of them at this club tonight was purely based on instinct, gut feelings, and careful, calculated guessing, there was still a chance they wouldn’t show themselves.
You didn’t mean for it to happen like this, you were doing everything in your power to stay composed and in control, but some part of you–the defiant, terrible side of you–wanted so badly to see his reaction when you touched him.
His frame leaned over you, holding you against the probably dirty wall, the sensual music that played a heavy beat around you felt like an instigator. Sweat slipped down his neck and it drew your attention, all of a sudden Spencer tensed, then he relaxed slightly but it felt forced, “They have eyes on the unsubs.”
“How many,” You compelled your eyes to stay on his though they wanted to scour the area around you and find just exactly who he was talking about–which would be idiotic, of course.
“That’s right,” he swallowed–ignoring your question, your eyes caught his throat bobbing–he noticed. “Keep your eyes on me,” you nodded at his words, feeling your throat drying as you neglected the need to trace his collarbone with both your fingers and gaze.
His hair was a mess of damp curls and his face was barely visible in the bright, flashing lights, but you had a job to do–and yet here you were, gripping the collar of his shirt, brushing back the hair that fell in his face as he looked at you with those eyes.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “but if you aren’t up for this just tell me now.” His voice lilted at a challenge, but you heard the mumble ordered in the earpiece–by hell he could yank you hair almost completely out and you wouldn’t give a damn.
You held his regard with one of your own, eyes narrowed, “Just do it.”
And he did. But he also didn’t. His smirk narrowed ere leaning in. He gripped your face with an elephants strength and a swan’s gracefulness. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips, but he swerved at the last moment and kissed the skin below your ear. He trailed a few kisses down your neck but stayed close to your hearing range, evidently, he was teasing–you wanted to scoff but couldn’t find it in you to make him stop.
“How’s this?” He murmured.
“You’re an ass,” you replied huffed, trying to mask a groan.
He grinned against your neck, “I know.”
The club case was the reason you and Spencer now ensured you were always together. From then on, you seemed to not want to be anywhere else the other wasn’t–or rather, you felt more comfortable with each other and couldn’t bring yourselves to leave the other alone.
Not that either of you minded and you still did your jobs perfectly fine–though there was more intensity when the other was in any sort of danger, it only propelled the one that wasn’t to learn how to do their job quicker. It was both a fast track to understanding how to adapt to constant situations that warped your idea of what was really going on. When he got something wrong–which was rare but not absolute. After about a month of this, you were starting to question what you were to him–what he was to you.
Though you still weren’t sure how to properly ask that question. You hadn’t slept together, though you thought about it all the time you weren’t at work…and perhaps sometimes when you were… Those thoughts slipped through on occasion–but it wasn't anything that hadn’t been transpiring before the club case.
It was as if the ‘who can make the other person more embarrassed’ game had been turned into the ‘what can I do to make you squirm this time’ game. Like the rules of the game had somehow intensified and touching was now allowed and despite all of the things that ensued upon the new rule instatement, you still had not taken it further than work.
It kept you up most nights, and you wondered when this cycle of what are we would end–if it would take one of you getting into a relationship–though you were sure Spencer didn’t have to worry about you in that department–and although you hated it, the fact was that Spencer was the only one you could think about. It was as if the man had ruined sex for you altogether.
You fucking hated Spencer Reid–and that fucking chifforobe.
Your heart dropped in your chest. You refused to give Spencer the satisfaction of looking over at him–though he seemed just as surprised as you. At this point anything could happen–and by anything you mean anything. Because anything would be better than having to share a room with him again. You were so tired you could barely recall what that even meant.
But then again, a small part of you whispered, this could be your chance. My chance? You scoffed, my chance at what? Making a fool of myself? Because confronting him means admitting I can’t stop–thinking about him. And that, to you, would feel like admitting defeat. It’d feel like losing the game–oh and you really felt like you were winning! Winning at what again? God, you needed sleep.
“Are you planning on getting in the shower first?,” he asked as soon as you were behind the door, away from prying ears and nosy coworkers.
You let out a heavy sigh and held your arms up to stretch, yawning–“honestly, I might just head to bed, it’s late and I could really use the sleep.”
“Have you not been able to sleep at night?” He set his things on the bed near the window as you claimed the one near the door.
“You have no idea,” you murmured, although a bit more to yourself than to him.
“Do you know why?” He seemed genuinely curious–but as you faced him, all you could think was, if only you knew.
“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ and grimaced as you laid your back against the bed, arms spread like a starfish, your duffle bag discarded near your feet at the end of the bed.
You felt Spencer watching you, but for the first time in a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You quite literally had been running on nothing but coffee for the past day and a half–and you were in desperate need of some sleep–especially if you wanted to be at your best tomorrow.
“Here,” you hadn't heard Spencer approach you–you blamed his Hotch training. You cracked open an eye as he pushed you on your side. Your back burned at where he’d touched you, but it was quickly overshadowed when you heard him yank the bedspread down as hard as he could. “Come, on,” he huffed, pulling your shoes off and setting them beside your bag.
You forced yourself under the cover and snuggled, “the light?” you grumbled.
“First, your blazer,” he held out a hand. You whined but made quick work of ridding yourself of the fabric. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable–”
“Spencer.” You warned.
“Yeah, I hear you,” he reached for the lamp atop the bedside table–smaller than the one from the last hotel room you’d shared–the chifforobe near the window was smaller as well. He hummed as the thoughts faded in and passed through his mind.
Spencer found himself forgetting everything else as he sat in the bed opposite yours and leaned his arms on his thighs, watching you. A few minutes passed, but only when a knock sounded on the door did he realize he maybe shouldn’t be watching his coworker like a creep. Though, you weren’t really a coworker, were you?
Well–he meant you were–but you were also more than that, though he didn’t exactly know if your relationship had a name, he knew that it entailed things normal coworkers did not have. He knew what he wanted–but to outright say it felt like disrupting the sort of balance you’d gotten accustomed to–as if going out and actually attempting to take what he wanted would break the trance that had set over the two of you–it’d be throwing all the rule’s to the game away, and then what did either of you have left? Rules were important, if not necessary. He couldn’t chance it–not yet at least.
“Hey, oh,” Morgan tried looking around the room.
Spencer felt his eyes roll as he stepped into the hall and shut the door slightly behind him, careful not to shut it completely as he didn’t have the key card and he didn’t want to wake you up. “Yes?”
Morgan nodded behind him, “she’s asleep?”
“She’s really tired,” Spencer affirmed.
“Right,” his eyes fell back on Spencer, and for a second, he thought Morgan might be analyzing his form.
“Was there something you needed?” Spencer pressed, eager to head back into the room, unpack his suitcase, and head to bed himself.
“Ah, no, we were just going to order food–but I guess you don’t want anything either?”
“Uh, no, but thanks for asking.”
“Uh-huh,” Morgan once again glanced behind Spencer, whose irritation at the suspicion was steadily increasing.
“She’d not dead,” Spencer stated, though he meant it as a joke it came out rather harsh.
“Alright, pretty boy, I didn’t say she was.” Morgan chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”
Spencer made quick work of unloading his things, he thought about getting in the shower but feared it’d wake you. Instead, he debated on whether or not he should leave your things in you bag or do you a favor and put them away. He didn’t want you to consider him a snoop, especially with how you’d been looking at each other the past few weeks–and that undercover case.
His heartbeat picked up, and he couldn't stop thinking about it–it was the thing he fell asleep to at night; it was gradually eating away at him, and he couldn’t deny the way his body tensed whenever he recalled the image of you under the flashing array of lights–how you’d looked so…submissive.
He hastily shoved that thought to the furthest corner he could find in his mind and headed for your bag. He didn’t want to be brash with the way he put your clothing away, but he also didn’t you to wake up while he was holding your underwear–then he’d truly feel like a creep.
He was halfway done when you mumbled something; he froze and he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest. Though it was still winter, he’d begun to sweat and had set his glasses aside because they kept sliding off the bridge of his nose. He’d been wearing them more often than not for the past few months as he’d found them to be a particular fascination of yours. It was now that he squinted and moved his hand around for them.
His footsteps carried him quietly across the room, near your bedside. “—?” He whispered and when you failed to respond, lifted a tentative hand to your cheek–though just before the pads of his fingertips met your skin, you mumbled something again–and this time, he could hear it. He fisted his hand and used the bedside table to hold himself up, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew his hands were turning white with how hard he was squeezing them.
Again. He wanted to hear it again–his prayers were answered as you shifted slightly, tugging the cover up to your neck. Skimming down your person, he bit his fist and tried to calm himself down. Again. He needed to sit down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt it twitch–he needed to walk away right now. And he did, but instead of picking up where he’d left off with your clothing, he headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on as he shut himself in complete darkness.
Images of you, your stolen glances, and desperate touches filled his mind. He was particularly focused on the tired way you slurred his name in your sleep. He wondered what kind of dreams you were having, what you were picturing as you said his name like that. He muffled his groans as he stroked himself, using his fist to bite back anything that might escape the small confines of the washroom. His thoughts of you were possibly the only thing he allowed himself to go to extensive lengths with. His mouth watered at the mere concept of you and your twisting legs. He’d done this a considerable amount of times before–but this was the first time you were so close– a hairsbreadth away.
It felt both right and wrong, and yet the lines began fading into oblivion as he came closer to climax.
He whimpered into his hand just as he came. It was odd, he didn’t too much feel like a creep after he cleaned himself up, but upon washing his hands profusely and returning to put your garments away, he was once more–afraid of what you’d think if you caught him messing with your things.
Although a part of him felt it might have been because he wanted you to find him in that state, he tried rationalizing–but the more he thought about it–even as he now rested his head against a pillow–the more he found that ‘might’ to be absolute truth.
You woke up to the smell of coffee. You stretched, yawned, and pried your eyes open. Rolling onto your side, you found Spencer devouring a book, his glasses at the tip of his nose. You smiled, thinking you were dreaming–but then his eyes shifted over to yours and your smile fell, you quickly understood this Spencer was real–oh no–your cheeks burned from last night's delusions. “Good morning,” he smiled. You groaned and sat up, your hands finding your cheeks, “what time is it?”
“It’s around six, you have,” he checked his watch, “an hour and thirty minutes, Hotch wants us ready before eight.”
You huffed and threw yourself back against the pillows. New Years had come and gone and you hadn't even celebrated...though, your mind with all the ways you could make up for it–you shook the thoughts away, now was not the time.
Five minutes later you were searching for your clothing, but your bag was practically empty, “did you move my things?”
Spencer choked on his coffee, “ah–yeah,” he motioned toward the chifforobe. You glared at it as he said, “It’s small, so some of our things are mixed, but you should be able to find whatever you’re looking for easily.”
“Thank you” You appreciated his simple act of affection, it made your chest ache.
“Yeah, sure.” Despite going back to reading his book, Spencer snuck small glimpses of you from the corners of his eyes.
As the hot water ran down your back, you found yourself thinking of Spencer, just a few feet away, you were practically naked and he could walk in at any moment, you felt an ache between your thighs, but you shrugged it off–or at least you tried to.
You hadn’t had sex since that incident with Spencer a few weeks ago. You tried–by all God did you try–but you just couldn’t It led to a few arguments with the guys you’d taken home–and your credit, you did feel just a little bad. All the same, you simply couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. It was like he was mocking or watching you every time you attempted it–he was that tiny, little voice in the back of your head feigning disappointment, saying you wouldn’t purge the sexual frustration unless it were him. Though you were a saint at keeping it hidden, your agitation only built.
The day was more or less: “Spencer, what do you see?” from Hotch and “—, if you were the unsub…” from Morgan. Penelope was on call a few times and you were so close, but it had grown late and you needed sufficient unwinding. After a group dinner in the hotel lobby that primarily consisted of takeout and the small meal provided by the hotel staff, you headed up to your room. Spencer stayed to grab one last cup of coffee before the staff closed the mailroom for good. Thus, with your alone time, you decided to wash off all the griminess of the day.
You were drying yourself with a towel when you heard him enter, “I’m almost done,” you shouted, “I think there’s still some hot water left.”
His lack of response piqued your curiosity. You threw your clothing on once you were mostly just damp and yanked the door open. You were pulling your hair back into a ponytail when he looked up. He’d just set his cup of coffee on the table near the lamp, which now that you noticed, was the only light that lit up the room, he had turned the big llight off.
“You okay?” You rubbed your face, dropping your hands to your side right after, “did you hear me?”
“No, sorry,” he frowned, “I wasn’t paying attention.” He stood.
“Oh, I just said–if you wanted to get in, there’s still hot water left.” You thrust a your thumb behind you.
“Ah, thanks.” You nodded and pursed your lips. “So, what book were you reading this morning?” You took up the spot Spencer had just abandoned.
He turned and watched you–filling the area. He caught the way your legs pressed together as you crossed them to sit more comfortably against the pillows, attention to the book he’d been reading that morning.
“I’m going to get in the shower,” he cursed himself as he felt desire pool in his throat. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss you, to touch you–to taste you. His mouth watered at the prospect and he felt himself harden just like the night before. His shower was quick as the water had gotten cold and had quickly ruined his mood.
“You lied to be,” he glared at you from the threshold of the bathroom door.
You bit your lip, but still, a smile graced your mouth, “sorry, I thought it would last.” He shook his wet hair around around, mimicking the actions a puppy would.
“What?” His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows raised, “what did you call me?”
A hand flew to your mouth, your own surprise showing, “I–” of bloody course, you said it out loud.
He stepped forward, dropping his towel on the bed, “say it again.” It was odd, the way he said it–like it was both a question and a demand–or rather, a demand he questioned your willingness to obey.
“…puppy?” you tried laughing it off, “Sorry, it just came out–I didn’t mean t–”
“Didn’t you, though?” Came a mirthful reply. Spencer stepped forward, towering over you as he leaned down, bringing his face near yours, one hand on the bed near your hips, the other on the bedside table. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this entire time?”
And what the hell were you supposed to say to that? Game on is what Spencer saw in your eyes as you set the book on the table, your hand purposely roaming over his as you pulled it back. “No,” you stated, a nonchalant expression crossing your features as your eyes turned away from his, the move calculated, “only sometimes.”
Spencer didn’t think the table would be able to withstand him much longer, but it did as he thought of ways he might proceed. Eventually, he let go and instead wrapped his firm fingers around your nape, forcing your attention to his. “And do you think that now?”
He watched a Chesire grin take its place upon your mouth. “If I said yes, would that anger you, Dr. Reid?” The mocking was unnecessary, but it sure as hell was a lot more fun than if you simply addressed him as ‘Spencer’ or ‘Reid’.
The parental-like tone you took up furthered his new-growing erection. His hair still dripped with water and as a water droplet streaked down his face, you lifted your hand to wipe it with your thumb. His hand let your your neck go to snatch your wrist–God you wanted him so badly. This witty banter–you were already starting to find–just wasn’t enough anymore.
Your eyes reapproached his, they seemed to meet with the same level of desire, completely forgetting that there was a serial killer on the loose, your eyes dipped to his lips only once before you leaned forward–but while you did he pushed you back, your back hitting the bedframe and just as you caught your breath, you found yourself being deprived of air once more.
Spencer was hungry, he tasted like coffee and something minty. Your hands tangled through his hair and while he suffocated you in the only way you’d ever want to be suffocated, you tugged. It barely stopped him the first time, but the second and third had his eyes rolling.
When they found you again, noting the playful glint in your eyes, he vowed he would go as far as you’d let him tonight–and perhaps the night after that, he hadn’t quite thought it through, and at this time, he neither had the strength nor the want to do so.
He began tugging at your t-shirt, but you grabbed his hand, “ah-ah,” you clicked your tongue, “you have to earn that.”
He paused and took a step back, watching you now, your knees digging into the softness of the mattress; your mouth darkened with the visceral kisses he’d forced on you. Your eyes sparked with something he knew he’d never be able to find in any other woman. His lips quirked, his eyes were hooded, and his voice thick when he asked, “What do I have to do?”
The need in his voice was enough to shed you of your clothing right then and there, but it seemed you had a lot more self-control than he did in the moment. You tugged your hair out of the loosened, droopy ponytail it had fallen into and brushed it back, smoothing it out to appear just how you wanted it to. You felt his eyes on you, patient, but every second he was, was a second his lust grew, and the moment you gave him the okay–well, he honestly couldn’t say just what he’d be capable of.
“You seem agitated, Spencer,” you pouted, shifting so that your legs fell in front of you over the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked your movements as he used your bed’s bedpost to steady himself, “just how many times have you pictured me like this?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” came his frivolity response. To be frank, he knew the exact answer to your question, but the first thing that flew into his head and out of his mouth was–to be sure–an edging reply. He watched how you interpreted it.
In a moment of unconsciousness, you glanced at the chifforobe across from you. Spencer caught that shit.
“Oh?” He raised a brow, finding the confidence to step forward.
“Don’t get any ideas, Reid.” You warned, but he could see the arguments going on between your eyes.
“No, see: I think it’s your idea.” He corrected, a deep, rumble of a laugh fell from his throat, “So, what exactly did you picture me doing with this thing.” He snorted and walked over to it, running a hand along the cupboard. You bit your lit, your dreams coming into clear view as if they were a film playing in front of you.
“Spencer,” you stood both embarrassed and a little annoyed.
You marched over to it at placed a hand on his shoulder–but then you were against the doors of the small chifforobe and Spencer was whispering just above your ear, “Was this it? Your sick fantasies of me? Did they include me having you against a wardrobe?”
Your breath caught and you wanted to hide your face because there was no doubt he’d be able to see the truth without you having to voice any sort of answer–but the jerk had his hand cupped around your jaw, and his grip was unimaginably strong for–well, him.
He smiled and tilted his head–and God only knew what that did to your resolve. Your knees weakened and you found yourself whimpering. “So, I guess that’s a yes.” You found just enough strength to narrow your eyes and look somewhat pissed. He nodded, “the shirt,” he tugged at the bottom.
You bit back a repost as he dropped his hands and stepped away, though he kept his distance close enough to where you felt his presence even after you’d lifted your shirt and he was out of sight. His eyes didn’t leave yours, you admired his stoicism; you’d already proved you weren’t any match when your eyes traced every line anytime you saw a sliver of his stomach, hips, neck, or forearms–okay maybe you had a bit of an obsession, but could it honestly be considered that when the look he was giving you screamed ‘wolf in sheep's clothing’?
“What other things have you thought up in that horny brain of yours, I wonder,” he spoke almost to himself, but his ever-focused gaze told you he was quite literally asking.
“That’s not how the game works,” a cheeky grin reformed your scowl.
“Right,” he paused, turning his eyes to the ceiling for effect, “remind me?”
Your eyes roved from one eye to the other, and back again, searching for any hint of hesitation, “this foreplay is kind of starting to get old.”
“Yes, I can agree–” you cut him off midsentence with a ravenous kiss. You could swear you bit him more than once, but he wasn’t complaining. Your head lulled to the side as he trailed kisses up and down your neck, finding a spot he particularly liked just below your ear.
Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking, tugging, and pulling–whatever got the most responses from him, you were doing. You threw his shirt to the side and pushed him toward the bed. He braced himself using his arms, though they were swiftly in motion again, wrapping around your waist as you stepped between his legs. “What do you want?” You asked, attempting to catch your breath.
He laughed, but when he realized you were serious he almost snorted, “What do I–what do I want?”
“It’s a simple question,” you shrugged, “what do you want from me?”
Now–now his eyes dipped, “I want a lot of things.”
You bit back another grin. Somehow in the few minutes, you’d been running around the room talking about how horny you both were, you’d ended up on the bed, your head behind a pillow. Spencer was between your legs, mouth-watering. He’s waited so long, he honestly didn’t think this foretold moment would ever actually occur, but God, was he glad he’d been wrong. Heavy, sinful eyes skimmed your lower body as he fumbled with the top of your shorts. His hands were warm despite the dreary weather outside, likely due to his recent shower. They pressed into your thighs as he brought his face just above your lower stomach, his name fell from your mouth in a whine, leading him to push aside the cover of your shorts. He drug a few fingers over your center.
Your moans sliced through the rough tension that had fallen over the hotel room. “What?” His snort was low and sloppy, “Oh, is–,” one of his fingers gently slid over you and your eyes shut, “–is this what you want?” His eyes traced the arch of your neck that was most exposed, the one lined with the red marks he’d left. The twitching beneath his sweatpants pulled a groan from his lips.
He swirled his finger around, feeling your wetness was more than inviting. “Spencer,” you cried, eyes flying open at the loss of contact.
“Be still,” he said, his voice wavering as he tugged everything off and discarded them on the floor. You watched him watch you–it wasn’t until you noted the way his eyes narrowed that you understood he was outlining your form–so that he could vividly paint it in his mind for a later purpose.
“I asked first,” you frowned up at him.
“You’re right,” he sighed, “here: let me show you what I want.”
Your breath caught as he lowered himself, his face coming right up to you, and with the way he was drooling at the sight, you could tell he’d been thinking about this for a while–it made you wonder if his desire had begun a lot sooner than yours had.
His mouth was warm, his tongue stroked up and down as far as they could go, and even when you thought he’d reached that point, he proved you wrong. Your hands knotted in his hair as you guided his head. His mouth was warm as he lapped up everything. You tried keeping your moan to a minimum, but when he stopped, your eyes popped open–had you done something wrong? But no, he was looking up at you with those desperate, puppy-like eyes, “please,” his whisper was grating, “I want to hear you.”
You swallowed, the ache building in you, “if that’s what you want,” you nodded.
And a few moments later, you were calling out his name in a way you’d never called anyone name. This was so new, you’d never had a guy worship you like this and you couldn’t fathom the fact that Spencer wanted to do it for your pleasure as well as his own.
You tried to hold it in, but your body had been desolate of attention for so long that you just couldn’t anymore. You could hear him slurp, and God did it do something to your brain chemistry– He considered you with clouded eyes. “Are you okay?” He frowned, pushing his body over yours.
Without giving him time to settle, you yanked his jaw toward your face with firm hands, he tasted like you and smelled of his shampoo–and yet, there was still the unknown Spencer scent that seemed only his skin could produce. You lined his jaw with kisses, your heart pounding in your chest with every new groan that escaped him.
My turn,” you huffed, definitely the cause of the lopsided grin that spread across his mouth. Though his hair was a mousy brown, in the dim yellow lamplight, it was as dark as the wood that made up the vintage furniture. It looked windswept or like he had just woken up–and perhaps he had. It was no longer a deniable fact that he’d never feel this good with anyone else, and he didn’t know how long this relationship with you would last, so he would milk everything he could out of it–and in exchange, surrender everything he had of himself.
It was only a few seconds later that you had him on his back, hands roving up and down his chest. You rubbed yourself against him, eliciting sweet sounds from his throat and friction from where you were just barely connected. You made sure to hold his gaze as you slid onto him. His jaw tightened and you could feel relief leave him as his chest fell. You tightened around him, trying to get used to him, you had to pause for a second–you couldn’t believe you were doing this–and in a moment of incompetence, you laughed.
“Sorry,” you lowered your chest onto his and began chuckling into his neck, “it’s just–what would the other think if they knew?”
Spencer pushed your shoulder away and held you above him, “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t, right?”
You nodded, but a small part of you wondered about what that meant for the after. Spencer groaned as you sat back up, you started slowly, hissing as you let him fill you. Spencer gave out his fair share of whimpers, but you wanted more, you wanted to make him cry.
You gripped his hair with one hand and the pillow beside him with another, you rolled your hips and wiggled every time you sat back down. Squeezing your thighs seemed to make him shudder the most, and when you added sucking to the mix, you knew you had him.
“There it is,” your grin was devilish as you swiped at his cheek. He opened his eyes just in time to see you licking his tears off your thumb.
“I might ask what we are now,” you huffed a laugh as Spencer shut the bathroom door. He had been a complete gentleman about everything, cleaning you, massaging your shoulders. You’d never had such an experience, you’d never thought there could be more to having sex if you only had the right partner; now that you did, there was…but you were unsure about yourself.
You found your mind questioning all you knew about Spencer and what this all meant to you. You had asked him what he wanted from you, but did you even know what you wanted from him? Before, the question might have thrown you off–though Spencer had asked it, you weren’t taking him all too seriously. Now that you had more time to contemplate your roving thoughts, you knew the answer as if it had been written in your DNA.
Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you, you were facing the window and the chifforobe.
“Well, what else would we be?” He paused, almost hesitatingly. You jerked your head toward his, eyes searching, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, he seemed to fade more and more into himself. When he turned his head and averted his eyes, saying, “I mean–if that’s not what you want–” you cut him off.
“No, I just–” you stopped yourself, unsure of how to explain the complications running through your mind, “I’m just not exactly sure what that means…”
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. You opened your mouth to clarify–probably more than necessary–but your words caught in your throat as Spencer stood and lowered to his knees in front of you. He was between your thighs, but there was nothing sexual about it–if anything it felt like the complete opposite kind of intimacy you had grown accustomed to with him.
His hands reached for yours, pulling them into your lap. He looked up at you with possibly the one look Spencer Reid had never given anyone. His eyes couldn’t decide which one of yours to focus on for the longest time, but when he did, his tone was guttural and almost choking, trusting.
“The more time I spend with you, the more I feel I’ve always known you. These past few weeks–they weren’t the beginning for me.” Your mouth suddenly went dry, though you still tried to swallow. “I–I honestly don’t know when it started, but the more I felt drawn to you, the more I forced myself away. It–I don’t–I didn’t think I deserved to feel that way–I guess…”
You waited a few moments to ensure he was finished, your mind ran to look for the best possible response–but given the one-in-a-million situation you were in, your mind went blank. Instead, you rambled the first words that rolled into your mind just as you whispered the last, “I want you in every way, Spencer. It’s like–like you’ve bewitched me–”
“...body and soul,” he finished, “it’s…Jane Austen–sorry.” He cringed.
You threw your head back and laughed, then huffed, wiping a few tears from your eyes, “No, oh, no don’t worry. See this is why I love you,” Your heart came to an abrupt halt, and you felt as if you were dead, “no–I mean, I don’t–I mean, I–well, I do, but I mean–”
“It’s okay,” you followed his face as he stood and leaned down, his palm brushing across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and leaned forward, “It’s okay, know what you meant,” the end of his sentence was muffled by another kiss.
“So, do you think they’ve caught on yet?” JJ asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Uhh, I’d say probably not.” Emily nodded.
“Would you like the share with the class?” Morgan raised a brow.
“Oh, I know this one,” Penelope hand shot up, her jewelry clinking against one another, “because — and Reid still think we don’t know.”
“I mean how could we not, though?” JJ huffed a laugh, setting her mug on the table in front of her.
“Know what?” Rossi smacked his lips, startling the group of four.
“Know…the complexities of…nail polish?” Penelope tried and failed to save the group.
All four members winced as Hotch appeared seemingly out of thin air and stated, “they think we don’t know about Spencer and —.” “What?” Rossi shook his head, following Hotch, “how could we not know? They’re so obvious.”
a/n: sorry for the wait, but i do proofread my fics because i just can't stand things not being as good as they could be–i'm a bit of a perfectionist lol irregardless, happy late new year !!
@darkmatilda @theylovemelody
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds fluff#fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid one shot#doctor spencer reid#spencer ried#dr spencer reid#criminal mind smut#criminal minds smut#smut#smut scenarios#happy new year#written by katherine#kat writes#omitted thoughts
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Flatline | LN4
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader
Summary: Lando parties a bit too hard and needs to be patched up. Luckily, he can count on a pretty nurse.
Author's Note: I'M BACK MFS🙂↕️ it's been a while haha but enjoy this lil lando fic that was inspired by the song Flatline by 5sos!! Also happy new year hehe, hope everyone is doing good and i wish y'all the best for 2025🫶🏻
F1 MASTERLIST🏎
King’s Day 2024. Amsterdam, Netherlands.
Amongst all the drivers, people would’ve thought Max Verstappen the most prone to be sighted in public while celebrating his country on its national day. However, the one that was currently trending on social media was Lando Norris. Pictures as well as videos were being posted, reposted, and commented on every second. No one had expected Lando to spend the weekend away in the Netherlands in between two grand prix. But here he was, partying on a boat and even DJ-ing along with his good friend Martin Garrix.
Lando didn’t know whether people just didn’t care about him – seeing as the Netherlands were the home of one of the greatest drivers of the current generation – or if people actually didn’t know him. In any case, he was glad not to be disturbed by fans – even though he loved them – and be able to enjoy the day the same way everyone else was doing it: by partying, dancing, singing, and drinking.
Obviously, Lando was planning to be careful as he knew that his PR team would have his head if he did something stupid during his two-week break. But still, he was having fun like a typical twenty-four year old. He was having the time of his life. Dutch people definitely knew how to party on their national day, that’s for sure.
…..
A few hours later however, what everyone hadn’t been expecting was for Lando to end the day with bandages all over his face. As the surprise of him being in the Netherlands settled down after a while, pictures and videos stopped circulating around. Until fans all over the world were met with images of Lando with a bloody nose, a smile still on his face. People had no idea what had happened. No context had been given, only the speculation of Lando having drunk and partied too hard that he had hurt himself.
Fortunately for him, Lando had been able to count on you. Being a friend of a friend, you loosely knew Martin but had never really exchanged more than a few words with him. However, he was currently glad that the invitation to his boat party had managed to reach you as you were qualified to take care of Lando’s battle wound – his words. Being a nurse, and the only one with some medical knowledge on the boat, you had quickly reacted when people had started panicking after seeing Lando’s face starting to bleed.
To be honest, people had overreacted a bit. Because when you approached Lando to see the extent of the damage, you realised it was only a cut albeit the consequence of some glass. So although he wasn’t hurt very badly, you still suggested bringing him into the hospital where you worked. Obviously, Lando had refused at first as he pretended that everything was fine. He was. But just to be sure, you needed to give him a general check-up in a clean location as a random boat in Amsterdam wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place to patch someone up.
So after Martin also agreed to the idea, Lando had no choice but to listen to his friend and go with you. The Dutch told Lando that he would come get him later as he needed to bring his DJ equipment back home – he promised to be ready to give him a ride back from the hospital later on as he knew that Lando had a flight the next day. This is thus how you found yourself in a cab with none other than Formula One driver Lando Norris on the way to your workplace. Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to go there today. But you knew it was part of your job to be able to help anyone in need even if you were on your day off.
The ride had mostly been silent. Lando had been on his phone, probably texting a few people about his whereabouts, while you were focused on the next steps to do when you’d be arriving at the hospital. You were pleasantly surprised when Lando paid the driver without a second thought and told him to keep the change.
“I could’ve paid, you know. Thanks,” you told him as you entered the building.
“You’re taking care of me on what definitely seemed like your day off, so that’s the least I can do for you.” Lando smiled at you and even with the bandages around his face, he was still very good-looking.
“Still, I appreciate it. You can go wait in this room if that’s okay?” He nodded and you finished explaining what would happen next. “I just need to inform my manager I’m here, get some stuff for a small check-up, and then I’m all yours. I won’t be long.”
“Sounds perfect”, Lando replied with a grin.
True to your words, you were back in the room where you’d left the Brit less than ten minutes later. He noticed that you’d changed into your uniform – which you’d been lucky to have a spare here as your usual one was at your flat – and enjoyed the view of observing you in your element. Working in the medical field was your calling, and you didn’t see yourself anywhere else.
First, you removed the bandages that you’d wrapped around Lando’s face earlier before you cleaned up the small wound – properly this time, with adequate material. As Lando winced when you disinfected it, you apologised.
“Does it hurt much?” You asked.
“Not really”, he shrugged. “Just uncomfortable I guess.”
“Hmm, okay”, you nodded. “Tell me if there’s anything else at any point.”
Quickly finishing up, you were soon enough putting a band-aid on Lando’s nose. You debated offering to put a silly one originally designed for kids, but decided otherwise as you didn’t want to look weird for suggesting it. However, the driver had noticed your eyes drifting to them when you’d hesitated in which one to take, so he spoke up:
“You think you could actually give me one of those”, he wondered with a smile before adding. “The cute ones, there.”
When you saw that he was pointing at the Disney ones, you stiffled a laugh. You hadn’t expected him to directly ask for one himself, but you were kinda glad that he did. Amongst the different characters present, your choice was easily made.
“I guess that the Cars one caught your eye?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were right.
“Bingo!” He laughed. “I’ll admit that Frozen was tempting but I gotta stay true to my roots.”
“Fair enough”, you chuckled. “Your job ain’t really much to do with building ice castles, or I’ve done my research wrong.”
“You looked me up?” Lando asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.
“Well, yeah?” You answered with a ‘duh’ tone as you gently put the Cars band-aid over the plain one you’d previously applied. “Even though the whole country supports Max and not many people care about the other drivers, I gotta know about the competition.”
“You think I’m competition to Max?”
“Of course! Anyone is: as long as Max isn’t the only driver racing on track, he has competition.”
Your explanation made Lando’s grin widen as he was glad to be considered in the same league as the Max Verstappen, especially by someone who lived in the Netherlands. To you, any other driver that had managed to be a part of the twenty that raced in Formula One was a good one – Lando included.
“He does have three more championship titles than me though”, Lando stated. “And God knows how many wins.”
“He’s had a good car for years,” you pointed out. “Your time will come, don’t worry. I can feel the papaya greatness for this year – though if I ever wear orange, it’s for Max.”
Not knowing what to reply to your words, Lando simply nodded while you put away the box of band-aids. You thought about the final steps of your check-up, and turned back to face the driver.
“Okay, so I’ll just put this on your finger to see your heart rate and then I’ll make you do a breathalyser if that’s alright with you?”
“Yeah, no problem. Do your job, don’t worry.”
“Great, thanks.” You carefully clipped the pulse oximeter on Lando’s finger before stepping away. “I'll be right back in a minute.”
“Take your time,” Lando replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
When you left the room, the Brit let out the biggest sigh of his life. Oh God, he thought. It seemed like you hadn’t realised how close you’d been to Lando as you were only focused on doing your job, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from you. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed anything, as the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable at your workplace. Get a grip, Lando told himself while waiting for you to be back. Don’t fuck this up if you want a chance.
You came back into the room shortly after, a box in your hands – which Lando assumed to be the breathalyser. He knew he had drunk enough that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive, but he hoped he had sobered up enough after his trip to the hospital. After unboxing the breathalyser, you got close to Lando again and explained to him what he’d have to do.
“Nothing too complicated, don't worry. You’ll just have to exhale into this.” You showed him the object. “And I’ll tell you when to stop. Then, you’ll be good to go!”
Lando nodded in reply, even though he hadn’t really paid attention to the actual words you’d said. He had been more focused on your face and the way you’d gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He almost wished he’d been the one to do it, and he wondered if it was the remains of alcohol in his blood making him think that. He also wondered if he would still be attracted to you if he had met you while stone cold sober. But when you gave him a soft reassuring smile as you told him to be ready to blow into the breathalyser, he knew he would find you gorgeous no matter his state of mind.
What he didn’t know though, is if it was the alcohol or his attraction to you that was making his heart faster – both, to be honest. The result was the same: the machine was showing his heart rate quickening and Lando could perfectly hear it echoing in his head, which made his eyes widen at the thought that you would hear it too. Lando’s heart rate was actually the least of your worries as you were focused on the current task of measuring the level of alcohol in his blood, but it became the most important barely two seconds later when you heard the continuing beep that usually meant the lack of heartbeat.
“Your heart is going flatline!” You exclaimed in shock as you tried to quickly assess how Lando looked in order to find the cause. “Oh my God… oh my God, what the fuck is happening?!”
And while you were panicking, Lando realised that he had made a grave mistake. See, as he still wasn’t back to his normal state of mind, the driver thought that it was a wonderful idea to just remove the pulse oximeter from his finger so that you wouldn’t have noticed his heart rate speeding. But of course, you had immediately noticed the lack of constant beep from the machine and were currently still stressing – breathalyser completely forgotten.
Seeing your panicked state, Lando was now feeling extremely guilty and decided to come clean.
“I’m fine!” He was almost shouting. Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, and you looked at him with worry in your eyes. “Sorry”, he apologised. “I accidentally removed the thing, please calm down. I’m not dead.”
“Oh”, you could only answer. You felt awkward now. “That’s good, then.” You scratched your neck and nervously laughed. “It’s weird, it shouldn’t come off that easily unless it’s forcibly removed. Sorry if I gave you one that wasn’t properly working.”
And this was his last straw. Lando was now feeling even guiltier at your words, as you were going to blame yourself for using seemingly faulty equipment.
“Please don’t be mad, but… I-actually-removed-it-myself”, he said as quickly as he could.
“What?” You questioned with a tilt of your head.
“I removed the heart thingy myself because I didn’t want you to hear my heart rate.”
“Lando, that’s my job?”
“Yeah, but like…” He didn’t know what else to say, except for the truth – thank the alcohol for giving him the confidence to utter the next words. “I was just thinking about you, and you were looking super pretty while explaining stuff, and I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest, but then I felt like my heartbeat was going really fast, and you’d hear it, and you’d think I’m like weird, and–”
“Oh God, Lando calm down!” You put your hands on his shoulders so that he would look at you instead of the floor, and meeting your eyes silenced him. “You’re good, don’t explain yourself. I know that you’re not completely sober yet so your mind might make you do weird things. I’m just glad you’re alright and not suddenly a victim of a heart attack.”
“I don’t want you to see me as a crazy drunk guy right now!” He retorted, trying to clear his name. “Even sober, I’d think the same. Maybe not do the same stupid shit though…” He muttered the last sentence.
Silence now filled the room as you removed your hands from Lando and put them in your pockets before sighing. You tried to assess the situation and process his words. You’d had your fair share of people complimenting you in your workplace so Lando’s feelings weren’t that unusual, but it was still rare to end up in this type of situation. You thought for a minute about what to do while Lando stayed quiet. He was scared of dumb words leaving his mouth, so he didn’t want to take any more risks.
“Tell you what”, you caught his attention. “We finish this up, I clear you free to go, and maybe we can start over when you’re not my patient anymore. Sounds good?”
Still not trusting his words, Lando simply nodded. You then kept going with the last steps of your check-up before announcing to Lando that he was discharged. He had surprisingly sobered up quicker than you would’ve thought – maybe because of the heart rate incident – and his alcohol level wasn’t as high as you’d imagined it to be.
You walked him back to the entrance hall and asked him if Martin was here to get him. He briefly checked his phone and noticed a couple texts from the Dutch that were notifying him of his arrival in a few minutes. You therefore decided to wait with Lando, having all the time in the world – it was still your day off and you knew that the hospital wasn’t understaffed today, so there was no need for you to stay and give a hand.
As you were waiting in an excruciatingly awkward silence, Lando chose to man up and clear the previous situation up.
“I still think you’re beautiful,” he stated. “And I’d love to get to know you,” he added. “I know I’m not fully sober yet, but I’m almost there and my thoughts haven’t changed.”
“That’s good to know”.
“Good as in positive for me to shoot my shot?” Lando wondered with a nervous smile.
“You can try, I think your chances of success are pretty high right now.”
“Great.” His grin widened, and you couldn’t help thinking about how he was currently the beautiful one. “So, can we go out together one day? I know this great restaurant that my wonderful local friends told me about.”
“That’d be my pleasure”, you replied.
“When do you finish work?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.
“I’m actually done…” You feigned to analyse the time on your watch. “Right now. What a coincidence!”
“Coincidence indeed”, Lando agreed. He then took out his phone and gave it to you. “I’ll text you the location?”
“Sure”, you nodded. “Maybe not a full meal tonight, but I’m still down for a drink and snacks.”
“Works for me. Raincheck for a proper date then?”
“Come back for it once you have a race win under your belt”, you challenged.
“Deal”, he accepted. “I have really good motivation.”
“Tell you what, you can also get a wish if it’s the next race that you win.”
“A wish? Anything?” You nodded and Lando thought about ideas. “Kiss on the first date?”
“Alright, you’re on!” You sealed the deal with a handshake, a playful glint in your eyes.
Merely a couple seconds later, Martin was pulling up in front of the hospital which was yours and Lando’s cue to go your separate ways before meeting soon again.
…..
A week later following your semi-date with Lando, you were now watching him celebrate his first win on the top step of the podium in Miami. You couldn’t be prouder of him, and your first thought was to text him as soon as you saw him go back to his garage. You hoped that he’d have access to his phone soon enough and quickly drafted a message to congratulate him. Right before you sent it, your wish – and eventually his in the process – seemed to have been granted.
Flying back to you next weekend before imola
I’m expecting a welcome kiss👀
You chuckled at his texts, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you thought about how he was still serious about you, and deleted your initial message before sending a new one.
Wouldn’t have it any other way
Congratulations race winner! Can’t wait for the next ones, I knew your time was coming🧡
If Lando never imagined that being hurt could lead to him bagging a pretty nurse and getting his first Formula One win, he was now thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get a small wound before each race if it meant that you would take care of him and that he’d be lifting the winner’s trophy afterwards.
..........
Hope y'all liked this ^^ idk if it's common knowledge on here but I'm a HUGE 5sos fan and when i recently heard flatline after a while, i knew i had to write smth f1 related for this song (esp the chorus)
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy my writing<3 it means a lot to me and i love knowing what people think - apart from my bestie who's often my #1 fan haha
See you next time, take care🤍
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#f1#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#lando norris x you#f1 x you#formula 1 x you#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you
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SHORT TASTE -! ⸝⸝ 최수빈
⸝⸝ you and your sweet boyfriend go shopping together - it's supposed to be innocent, isn't it? he ends up getting a short taste of you (smut, mdni!)
[🍥] pairing ! - pervy boyfriend!soobin x afab!reader
warnings - soobin is a perv lol, dom!soobin, sub!reader, sex in the dressing room, breast worship, nipple sucking, big dick soobin, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, soobin calls reader bunny baby, good girl, and slut but literally only twice ⸝⸝
-
lexi adds ! - yeah... I'm a "writer "now! I suddenly had all this motivation to start writing and reading all the great stories on here has made me finally do it! I still need a taglist so if anyone wants to be tagged in any of my future stories please lmk (srry if this story is a bit shitty!)
soobin had the great idea of going holiday shopping with you and of course, you agreed.
now here you were, walking around the mall, hands interlocked as you searched for a store to enter. when you found a promising clothing store that caught your eye, you signalled to soobin.
"should we go in there?" you said as you pointed a finger toward the direction of the store's entrance.
"you can do whatever you like, baby, as long as you find something you like I'll be here to pay for you." soobin replies with confidence and a warm smile on his face. he loved spoiling you, it was his favourite thing to do. He loved to gift you cute dresses and skirts whether it was christmas or not, being fond of how happy you were when the skirt fit just right.
soobin didn't just buy the skirts and clothes to make you happy, he bought it to make himself happy too. he liked walking behind you, seeing the small glimpse of your cute pink underwear peaking out from under. sometimes as you tried on your new gifted clothes, he'd sneak a picture or two, telling you to give him a cute little spin as he pulled his phone out.
you were so oblivious of it too, asking him if your underwear was peaking out just for him to lie as say "it's not, don't worry"
he was having his own fun with it while you had no clue of his perverted actions.
you'd be fast asleep beside him at night while he jerked himself off to the pictures the same day, trying to keep his breath steady and not wake you, little did you know what your naughty boyfriend was doing beside you!
with a soft nod, you lead soobin into the store. classic pop music off the radio is playing from the speakers as your eyes search for a cute top to match the skirt soobin had recently gotten you.
as you searched, soobin watched you with loving eyes, and small grin plastered across his face as he saw you grab a pretty top adorned with lace, holding it by the straps as you turned to meet your gaze with his.
"what do you think about this one, binnie? would it look cute?" you asked, holding the top in front of your chest for him to get the full view and vision.
soobin hums in agreement, smiling at how cute and small you looked holding the tiny top "it's cute, baby. do you want to try it on just to make sure?"
you let out a small "mhm" as you begin to walk toward the dressing rooms, soobin following not so far behind.
when you get to the dressing rooms, his hands rest on each of your hips as you're escorted to a room by an employee.
when the employee is out of sight, soobin sneaks into the dressing room with you as you giggled at him for trying to be so sneaky.
"binnie, that's not necessary~ they weren't going to say anything anyways." you smiled softly before getting on your tippy-toes to give him a soft peck on the lips "you can sit down and watch me change, i know you like doing that alot." you spoke jokingly but soobin knew it was the truth.
he sat down just as you had told him to and reminisced about how cute it was that you had to get on your tippy-toes just to kiss him. a faint pink hue spread across his cheeks without neither of you noticing and he watched you in admiration as you took off your current top.
his eyes scanned your body with such hunger, looking at your boobs that looked like they were going to spill out of your bra from how much of your cleavage was showing now. he felt as his mouth began to water, not wanting to make it obvious.
he looked at the way the top fit you like a glove, hugging onto your curves so perfectly. soobin was already starting to think of all the things he wanted to do to you right then and there. he didn't realize how long he was staring for until you startled him by speaking.
"does it look bad? you've been staring for a while now, binnie..." you fidget a bit with your hands as you see him break out of his daydream and process your question.
"huh? oh-! no bunny, it looks perfect." he spoke in a simple yet attractive tone as he stood up and walked up to you, his hands resting on your hips just as they had done before and his eyes glint with mischief. "it look so perfect that I could just fuck you right here, right now. would you like that, bunny? like having to keep quiet in order to not get caught?"
without much thinking or processing, you nod, feeling heat rush to your core. your panties dampen as you stare at the smirk on his face, his cute dimple visible.
"you know you always get what you want, bunny." soobin says bluntly as he already begins to unbutton and unzip his jeans, freeing his hard, thick, and long cock out of the confinement of his underwear.
you've seen his dick before but somehow you're still nervous yet excited whenever you see it.
"I've been waiting to fuck you in this cute skirt all day..." he strokes his long cock up and down getting it even harder than it already was before and he looks down at you with a smirk "you see this bunny? you see what you do to me? you have me like this all day, everyday. now won't you be a good girl and help me?" he smirks knowing what effect his words are having on you, watching the way your thighs clasp together to hide your wetness.
"t-touch me..." the words escape past your lips without you realizing it and you stand there, desperate as you plead for soobin to touch you where you need him the most.
"what do we say when we want something?" soobin asks, "we only get what we want when we ask nicely, you know this, baby. "
"please-! please touch me, binnie!" you exclaim in a pleading tone before soobin presses a finger to your lips.
"remember where we are, bunny. this is not the bedroom, this is a place where you have to keep quiet, okay? you're better than that." he explains to you, you tend to forget where you are whenever you're needy for him.
slowly but surely, one of his hands makes it way into your panties, his fingers playing faintly with your folds and picking up the slick of your wetness. "you're so wet and i haven't even touched you that much..."
soft and quiet whimpers escape your lips as your hand moves to stroke his cock, a low groan and gasp leaving from his mouth as his head falls back the slightest.
his free hand drags along your curves and slips past the bottom hem of the top and travelled up to your breasts, groping them with his hand as his breath began to grow heavy from your hand on his dick. "take your top off, baby. you don't want to get it ruined before I buy it, do you? "
you shake your head and move his hand away from his dick in order to remove your top, soobin lends you and hand and helps you pull it over your head. he went back to admiring your cleavage, groping your breasts with both hands now, groaning at how soft they felt.
"n-need you so bad binnie..." you whined out a bit louder than you anticipated which leaded to soobin gripping the nape of your neck.
"be quiet." he ordered as he picked you up and he tugged your panties to the side, aligning his cock to the rim of your hole. "will this shut you up? is this what you need?" he asked as if he were to be losing his patience.
"yes...!" you managed to choke out in a quieter voice.
"fucking slut of course it's what you need..." without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt inside of you as you attempt to not moan out loud from the intense stretch.
he covers your mouth, his hand big enough to cover the bottom half of your face as he fucks into you, balls slapping against your ass and making lewd noises echo throughout the room. his hand was being used to keep you quiet even when both of you guys knew it wasn't possible to keep your mouth shut when he was fucking you so good.
your legs wrap tightly around his waist as he fucks you at an even faster pace, his hips slapping back and forth, the scene straight from a porn video from how obscene it just so happened to look.
a muffled "hmph-!" was the only thing that was able to escape past your lips because of how much force soobin was using to keep your mouth covered.
"fuck look at your tits. so perfect just for me, hm?" his free hand groped your breasts again as he massages one with his hand and sucks on the other one, letting out a muffled gasp and moan from you.
he sucks on each nipple with care, the quite opposite of what he was doing with your hole. he was making sure he abused it to the fullest as his tip hit and reached all the right places.
the time he finally uncovered your mouth was when he was close. he moved his hands off of where ever he had them and gripped your hips tightly, going at an inhuman pace now.
tears swell in your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, feeling like your climax would hit at any given moment.
"i-i'm gonna cum binnie! binnie-!!" you whisper, your voice breathy from all your energy spent but soobin keeps his composure despite your announcement and keep going, admiring the way his big cock slips in and out of your small cunt.
and just like that, he cums, both of you do. it feels so heavenly when you're finally able to release all over his cock, a loud moan being the last sound you make before it's replaced by heavy panting.
"fucking slut take it..." soobin mumbles before his cum shoots inside of you, painting your gummy walls white as he lets out a groan from pleasure.
soobin smirks at you with such a sweet delight in his eyes, "you did so well didn't you, bunny? you were able to keep quiet, i knew you could do it." he speaks in such a proud tone of voice that you blush.
he pulls his softened cock out of your messy and sticky hole and puts it back into his pants without cleaning himself off. your panties fall back in place as soobin places you back on your now weak legs.
"you were such a good girl for me, baby" he smiles innocently as if he hadn't just ruined your hole. he glances at the top you were trying on and picks it off the small bench that he had been sitting on.
"get dressed and let's go pay for this top, okay?"
#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#soobin fic#txt fic#txt smut#soobin x reader#soobin x you#soobin x y/n#choi soobin#txt#soobin
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helloo there!!♡, I really love the way you write. I'm wondering what it would be like if sae,rin,kaiser, have a gf who is a cosplayer, tyy♡!
Hiii dear!! Have a nice read and thank youuu^^
Rin Itoshi
Rin had come home early from practice. As soon as he opened the door he heard strange noises coming from the living room. When he walked in he found you sitting on the floor trying to shape a large piece of cardboard. The room was a mess with hot glue guns paints fabric scraps and oddly shaped foam pieces scattered everywhere
“What are you doing?” Rin asked with a curious expression. You looked up at him. With a smudge of paint on your face and messy hair you smiled brightly. “I’m working on a new cosplay. This is going to be a piece of armor” you said holding up the cardboard. Rin raised an eyebrow. “Armor? That thing needs a lot of work before it even looks like armor.”
“Don’t tease me!” you retorted. “This is just the base layer. It still needs painting hardening and detailing. Rin chuckled. “Alright alright. But why does the entire house look like a battlefield? Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Though you looked a bit offended you could tell Rin was getting interested. “I watched some YouTube videos and read a few guides. It’s a bit challenging but I’m learning. Plus it’s fun”
Rin sat down next to you and picked up the piece of cardboard you were working on. “If you’re going to put in this much effort at least do it properly. You need to cut this cleanly with a craft knife” he said grabbing a knife and showing you how to do it
After that day Rin couldn’t help but get involved in your project. Sometimes he’d point out mistakes saying “You’re doing it wrong” and other times he’d grab a paintbrush to help you add finishing touches
When the cosplay was finally ready you put it on and showed Rin the completed look. As you posed excitedly you noticed the surprised look on his face. “Alright” he said after a moment “I thought it was silly at first but… it actually looks really good”
“Really?” you asked your eyes sparkling with hope. Rin shrugged. “Maybe. But after all that effort I guess I can’t say anything against it.” At the convention your armor caught everyone’s attention. People stopped you to take pictures and compliment your work. Rin stood a step behind you a small smile on his face keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure no one crossed any boundaries
Sae Itoshi
when you first mentioned your passion for cosplay he didn’t think much of it. “Cosplay? You mean dressing up as fictional characters?” he asked one day his tone calm but slightly curious “Exactly!” you replied with excitement. “It’s a lot more than just dressing up though. I design the outfits build props and sometimes even compete. It’s a hobby but it means a lot to me”
Sae gave a small nod. “If it’s important to you that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to dress up” You laughed at his response knowing it was his way of acknowledging your interests without diving too deeply
A few weeks later you were preparing for a convention. Your living room was a workshop with fabric glue guns and foam scattered everywhere. Sae walked in and paused his sharp gaze taking in the scene “You’ve been at this for hours” he commented setting his bag down
“Yup” you said not even looking up from the detailed painting you were doing on a prop. “The convention is in two days and I want this to be perfect” Sae sighed softly walking closer. “Does it really need to be this detailed? No one’s going to notice if it’s off by a little”
You shot him a playful glare. “Oh they’ll notice. Trust me cosplayers have an eye for detail” He didn’t reply but leaned down to pick up one of the finished pieces. “It’s impressive” he admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize you made all of this yourself”
The day of the convention Sae offered to drive you there. As you stepped out of the car in your fully completed costume he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a moment. You looked stunning the outfit perfectly capturing the character you were portraying “You’re really into this aren’t you?” he said his voice softer than usual “I am” you replied with a bright smile. “And I love it”
At the convention Sae stayed in the background watching as people approached you for photos and compliments. He observed the way your face lit up every time someone admired your work. Despite his usual stoic demeanor he felt a subtle sense of pride
Later as you both sat down to eat he spoke up. “You’re talented. I don’t think I could have the patience to do something like that” You grinned. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” Sae smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head”
Kaiser Michael
“You dress up as fictional characters and make all this stuff yourself?” he asked, spinning one of your half-finished props in his hand like it was a trophy.“Yes, Michael” you replied, rolling your eyes at his tone. “It’s not just dressing up. It’s crafting, designing, and bringing something I love to life. And no, you can’t break that it took hours to make”
Kaiser smirked and placed the prop back carefully. “Relax. I’m just admiring your… creativity” A few days later, he strolled into the room while you were sewing fabric for your next costume. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and he leaned casually against the doorway, watching you work. “So, when’s this big event of yours?”
“This weekend” you answered, not looking up from your work “Perfect. I’ll clear my schedule” he said with a grin. You looked up at him, surprised. “You’re coming?”
“Of course” he said as if it were obvious. “I have to see how good you are at this. Besides, you’ll need someone to make sure your fans don’t get too close”
The day of the convention, Kaiser arrived in style, dressed impeccably as always. When he saw you in your finished cosplay, his usual cocky smirk shifted into something softer. “I’ll admit” he said, circling you like a critic. “You look incredible. Almost as good as me” “Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow “Fine” he said with a mock dramatic sigh. “You look better than me for now”
At the convention, Kaiser stayed by your side, his presence impossible to ignore. People stared as much at him as they did at you, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever someone asked for a photo with you, he’d step aside, arms crossed, observing like he was the one managing your image
“You know” he whispered at one point as you posed for a group shot. “You should’ve told me earlier. I’d have joined you in costume. Imagine us as a power duo unstoppable” You laughed, shaking your head. “This is my thing, Michael. You already have football”
“But you’re my girlfriend” he said with a wink. “That makes everything you do my thing too” By the end of the day, you were exhausted but happy. Kaiser drove you home, still talking about how “you stole the show” and how “everyone was lucky to witness your brilliance”
Enjoy!
#bluelock x you#blue lock x female reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock rin itoshi#bluelock x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock#bllk x reader#rin itoshi x y/n#rin itoshi x you#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi sae x reader#rin itoshi#sae x reader#sae itoshi#sae itoshi x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x you#micheal kaiser x reader#micheal kaiser#bllk kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser#blue lock kaiser#kaiser x you#michael kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x you#bllk sae#bllk rin
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Photograph (Platonic Batman x reader) (second half inched on the yan territory)
Notes: I made a joke that I wasn’t held enough as a child. Well, jokes on me because it was apparently not a joke. I'm still shit at making endings, help Merry Christmas folks <3
Masterlist
dividers by: @strangergraphics
“Isn’t this for newborns?”
Bruce sat shirtless on the room’s armchair. The room didn’t exist until this week, back then it was just another one of the big guest rooms inside the mansion. From formal, vintage patterned, dark green wallpapers it changed into a soft pudding yellow (Jason’s suggestion) and the corners are filled with soft plushies. He looked down on his shirtless self again as Alfred stood by the crib to prepare the four month old infant. Years of fighting rogues but it was the thought of holding a baby that made him nervous.
He takes a silent pride on his body, from his back muscles to his strong arms, from bruises and scars, he wears them like an intangible medal. He thought that the media would question how a businessman like him would have such build but he was easy to conceal it with his ditzy public persona. Ladies did love it but then again holding a lady and holding a baby are two different things.
“You might have missed their newborn days but bonding as father-baby is not too late”, Alfred explained. “Ah, skittish like your father when it was his first time holding you”
Bruce’s hands protectively closed around the sleeping babe. He reclines as Alfred helps lay the baby on his chest, one hand on the head and neck and the other under their bottom. Skin to skin and warm. Warm. He didn’t know an infant could produce such warmth. Is this how his father felt the first time he held him? The feeling of happiness like a small glowing bubble melting in his soul, a warm innocent light in the gloom.
He tensed again when he felt his little baby moved, their tiny arms stretching with all their might. “Alfred I think they are —” Before he could finish his words, he found himself staring at a pair of (eye color) eyes with their little lips curled in a curious ‘o’. They can barely lift their head for a long time but keep doing so to keep the little staring contest going. “What are you doing? Are you memorizing me?” He cringed a little especially knowing that he just butchered the movie quote. The little cringing turned to a small panic when the baby’s little trembled. He braced himself for a wail but instead he was greeted by a gummy smile and a giggle.
A giggle! Sure he missed the days of them being a newborn but they were here to witness the giggle milestone. “You think dad is stupid for quoting it wrong?” As if understanding his words, their giggles turned louder. “Master Bruce, language please.” The master of the house didn’t hear the older man nor the sound of the camera going off, capturing the moment. A picture, one of the many to cherish in the later years.
✮⋆˙(alternate ending here because I can’t make up my mind) ✮⋆˙
Bruce found himself in the room that he hasn’t been in for years. Each step that he took was heavy as his heart, echoing regrets and apologies that needed to be said not just in words but also in actions.
The room was empty with the exception of the barebone furnitures and thin sheet of dust. The only sign that someone once lived in the now lifeless room was a picture frame that was left behind and placed facing down. It was left behind as if mirroring how they had abandoned you. “Where has time gone?” he asked, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He is envious of his younger self in the picture. He wished he could turn back time, hold you close and hold you tight, and reclaim the promises he had forgotten to do. Forgotten like the pictures and the memories and the wallpapers in the room. All yellowed on the edges and faded.
The small sound from his phone snapped him from his trance, he had to compose himself before picking it up.
“Dick?”
“B, we found them”
“Bring them home”
#batfam x reader#batfam#yandere batfamily#batfamily#yandere batfam#gender neutral reader#batman fanfiction#batman#platonic batman#platonic batfamily#platonic dc#platonic batfam#platonic yandere#bruce wayne x you#yandere bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#platonic bruce wayne#batfam imagine#batfam headcanons#batfam shenanigans#batfam x neglected reader#batfam x you#batfam x male reader#batfam x batsis#batfam x batbro#batfamily x neglected reader#neglected reader#dc fanfiction#dc x reader
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