#and professional outfit shopping

[miodiodavinci]

maybe my real issue is just that i am constantly bound by ten million self-obligations and i cannot escape them no matter how i try

[sprinklebnuy]

{Do Not Repost/Trace/Use for AI}

[levisjinchuriki]

kinks - jjk men

summary - the types of kinks the jjk men would have

warning - nsfw!, 18+, mentions of kinks, dacryphilia, exhibitionism, brat taming, praise kink, bondage, sensory depravation, impact play, domination, submission, overstimulation, edging, manhandling

satoru gojo - exhibitionism 

gojo thrives on the thrill of being caught. he’s always waiting for the perfect moment to whisk you away, excited by the thought of someone hearing your moans or walking in on him pleasuring you.

“think anyone would hear if you screamed my name?” 

in his car, parked somewhere secluded but not entirely hidden, his hands are on your waist as he helps you ride him. gojo watches your reactions, smirking at every gasp and moan you fail to keep in. he chuckles, loving how you’re unable to control yourself.

“think you can keep quiet?” 

if you’re out shopping, gojo will 100% join you in the dressing room. he’ll make you try on all your new outfits for him and somehow find a way to slip himself into you, testing if any article of clothing will be enough to stop him. they never do. 

gojo thrives on how responsive you are to him, and he’ll push just far enough to see how much you can handle. he loves watching you battle with the risk of being caught and the pleasure of the moment.

“it’s just us, baby. trust me. no one else matters right now”

if there’s a mirror nearby, he’ll angle you so you can see yourselves. he loves to watch your reactions, and loves to make you watch as he ruts into you. 

“look how gorgeous you are”'

---

suguru geto - brat taming and praising

geto will find the perfect balance between indulging your defiance and putting you in your place. he wouldn’t react immediately to your brattiness—instead, he’d let you dig your own grave, enjoying the playful battle before firmly asserting himself in a way that leaves no room for argument. 

his first warning is an unamused look. if you continue, he’ll stop what he’s doing and say your name, daring you to push further. 

when geto finally decides you’ve gone far enough, his switch into dominance is seamless. his voice lowers, tone firm but never raised—it’s the kind of control that makes you feel small in the best way possible. he doesn’t need to yell. his presence alone is enough to make you rethink your choices.

“keep going, sweetheart. let’s see how far you think you can push me before you regret it.” “come here” “you wanted my attention, didn’t you? now you have it”

when it’s time to punish you he won’t shy away from edging you. he’s merciless, keeping you on the brink of pleasure while reminding you that your brattiness has consequences. he’ll make you beg for his forgiveness before considering easing up his punishment. and he won’t stop until there’s tears brimming your eyes. 

“are you done acting out, or should i keep going?" “you want to cum? earn it”“say you’ll be good for me… louder.”

when he decides you’ve had enough he’ll go right into praising you, knowing you need that drastic change to calm down. 

"look at you, taking it all, making me so proud"

despite geto’s stern demeanor, he’s incredibly attentive afterward. he knows you’ll be in subspace from his actions and won’t hesitate to dote on you. he’ll gather you in his arms, holding you close as he murmurs soft reassurances while his hands soothe the areas he’s punished.

“you’re such a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

---

nanami kento - bondage and sensory control

he’s known for his calm, composed, and somewhat reserved demeanor, and would have a kink rooted in control, care, and subtle dominance. while he is generally seen as a professional and disciplined individual, his kink would align with his serious nature and the need to maintain structure. 

he likes structure and order, and the idea of being able to ensure that everything is carefully planned is appealing to him. he wouldn’t push your limits too far, either. he’d make sure you safe, secure and fully in the moment with him at all times. it isn’t just about the physical act—it’s about trust, control, and connection. he thrives on the balance of power, but he’d always be conscious of the emotional intimacy involved. 

he’d enjoy using restraints—whether it be ropes, cuffs, or silk ties. the idea of binding you to a bed, to a chair, or in a way that limits your movement just enough to make you fully dependent on him would drive him wild. he wouldn’t rush; he’d take his time, carefully tying the restraints to make you feel safe, yet vulnerable.

he’d like to dig into sensory deprivation, as well. occasionally, he’ll blindfold you, taking away one of your senses to heighten the others. and he’d make sure to draw out your pleasure slowly. he’d tease and test your limits, taking his time to find out exactly what pushes you to the edge without bringing you over it. 

---

toji fushiguro - impact play and physical domination 

toji has a history of being ruthless. his kink would align with his dominant personality- something that taps into his need for control, intensity, and power. it would revolve around physical dominance, rough play, and impact play.

toji’s enjoys giving you some form of physical discipline or roughness during intimate moments. he’d enjoy the power dynamic of making his partner submit to him physically, but the kink wouldn’t be about cruelty—it’s about the adrenaline, the rush of power, and the vulnerability that comes with being physically overtaken.

toji wouldn’t be soft or delicate. he’d have a firm grip on you at all times. he’s so big compared to you and he’d use that to his advantage, making you know exactly who’s in control. he’d test your limits by spanking your ass and thighs before hitting you harder. his favorite part would be the way your body tenses when he delivers a slap, seeing you squirm under him.

he’d be aggressive in the way he holds you down and positions you. whether it’s pinning you against the mattress or simply making sure you don’t move unless he allows it, he’d make sure you feel his presence, both physically and emotionally.   

---

choso kamo - overstimulation

choso is purely devoted to you. he loves every little reaction you give him—the way your body shivers, the way his name falls from your lips in broken cries, and the way you arch and squirm beneath him. when he’s lost in the moment, he becomes single-minded, determined to make you feel so good you can’t think of anything but him.

the moment your first orgasm hits, choso’s focus sharpens. he doesn’t stop—not because he’s ignoring your pleas but because he’s addicted to seeing you unravel under his tongue. the way you writhe and gasp spurs him on. 

choso’s fingers are relentless, pressing against all the right spots as he watches your body arch involuntarily. he loves how sensitive you become, how your legs tremble as you fail to push him away.

his tongue flicks and swirls between your folds as your cries grow louder. he looks up at you, his pupils blown out. his lips are glistening as he sucks on your clit. when your hands tangle in his hair to pull him away, he groans against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

---

sukuna - manhandling

with sukuna, manhandling isn’t just a kink—it's a power dynamic, an intense display of dominance that plays on his control and strength. he thrives when he uses his strength to guide, overpower and sometimes overwhelm you. 

it all starts subtly. you're in the midst of a heated argument when you push a little too much in a moment of defiance. he grabs your wrist, firm enough that there’s no escaping. his gaze locks onto yours—dark, calculating, predatory. "what do you think you're doing, little one?" his voice is a dangerous growl, full of restrained power.

there's something in the way he handles you—so effortlessly, like he owns every inch of space between you both. it makes your heart skip a beat, and you find yourself shivering, not from fear, but from a strange, intense excitement. his dominance, the way he just takes control without hesitation, turns you on in a way you didn’t expect. the idea of being physically overpowered, the feeling of sukuna’s strength and control– it was dizzying

with a small, almost mocking chuckle, he pulls you closer, pinning you against him with an unyielding grip. "you like this?" he murmurs, low and dangerous.

at that moment, you realize that you do. you feel your body flush with warmth as his hands tighten around you, as if you're his to hold. there’s something about the way he manhandles you, not in anger but in control, that awakens something inside you—a kink you hadn’t known existed.

from that moment, sukuna makes it a point to test your boundaries. he watches for your reactions, noticing the way your body responds to his forceful movements. the way you try to escape, only to find yourself pulled back by his unrelenting strength, excites you even more. there’s no struggle for him; you can feel his power as he effortlessly dominates you in ways that leave you breathless. his strength is intoxicating, and you can’t help but melt into his grip, even when you try to resist.

his kisses aren’t tender; they’re demanding, taking what he wants from you as if he has every right to. when he speaks to you, his words are rough and commanding, never soft or sweet.

"did i tell you that you could move?" sukuna growls, his hands roughly positioning you how he wants. he’ll use his body weight, making sure you feel every inch of his dominance. the way he towers over you, his presence consuming, leaves you feeling small and at his mercy.

it’s not just about the physicality. it’s about the way he makes you feel—like he owns you. when he tosses you onto the bed, when he positions you how he wants, it’s as if he’s marking his territory, reminding you of just how much control he has over you.

a/n: thanks for reading <3 please send requests in my inbox!!

creds: @elryisia

[exudefashions]

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[harryspet]

well kept [2] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.5k

In which you officially enter into a world of high stakes and intense demands.

well kept masterlist

Your fingers traced the smooth edge of the new work bag that sat on your desk, a pristine luxury item whose brand you didn’t immediately recognize. It was medium-sized, big enough to fit your brand-new laptop, and an off-white color with pebble-textured leather. 

“Wow, you clean up nice,” came a voice from behind you. You turned to find Eleanor approaching, coffee in hand.

Instinctively, you pulled down your skirt as she looked you over. You were effortlessly polished, for sure. You usually only get your hair professionally done for special occasions, opting for simple protective styles you could do yourself. However, you had to admit you felt pretty with your hair in a neat, braided rose that reached down to your lower back. 

The clothes only amplified this unfamiliar sensation. After trying on eight outfits the previous night, you had settled on a cherry-red cropped blazer and a matching pleated skirt. You’d chosen the shortest heels Rafe had sent—a pair of white kitten heels adorned with gold bows. Your makeup, subtly applied, complemented the overall look.

Eleanor set her things down, straightened, and placed a hand on her slender hips. “Take your bag,” she said. “I’ll show you where Rafe expects you to work.”

“I thought that was my desk.”

“He’ll tell you where you need to be and when you need to be there.”

Her answer was simple enough. 

You entered the luxurious space that Rafe called an office once again. Even when he wasn’t in the room, you were intimidated by it, “He had this brought in for you,” Facing the wall on the side of the room that held Rafe’s desk, in the corner, was a simple mahogany desk. The miniature version of Rafe’s desk. A cushioned stool was placed underneath and on top were a notebook, a cup of pens, and a small lamp, “This is where he’ll expect you most mornings. You’re to review his calendar before he arrives, memorize it, and you’ll brief him on the day when he walks in.”

“I’m ssss-supposed to be in here with him …all day? What if I, you know, need you?”

“I’m right down the hallway, or you can email me.”

Eleanor spent the next thirty minutes showing you their emailing system and how to access Rafe’s calendar. She even shared a large cheat sheet she’d made with all of Rafe’s preferred restaurants, coffee shops, hotels, and the names and numbers of his home staff.

When she left you alone, you looked around the room. The view of the office from your corner was daunting. However, your heart had been beating too fast ever since you met Rafe. 

You turned your attention back to the calendar system. It was sleek and well-organized, and luckily, it was straightforward enough to navigate. You took note of his key meetings for the day and repeated them over in your head. You wrote down some notes in case your mind drew a blank. It was your first day, and he’d give you some grace, right? 

You needed to be able to anticipate these needs, but all you knew about Rafe Cameron was that he was complex and demanding. 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor drew your attention, and hurriedly, you glanced down at your note sheet again. Standing from your seat, you smoothed out your skirt, and with your notes in hand, you folded your palms in front of you. 

Unconsciously, as he pushed open the doors, you sucked air into your lungs. You held your breath until his eyes met with yours. In comparison to when you first met him, he was dressed down. He wore a short-sleeve black polo black dress pants, black leather penny loafers on his feet and a briefcase in hand. His face was stoic as he looked you over and let the doors close behind him. As big as they were, they were practically silent went they closed, adding to the ominous feeling in the room. 

You smiled, or tried to, “Good morning, Mr. Cameron, I’m–”

“I want you right here,” He interrupted, pointing down at the floor a foot before him. You stepped forward, hoping you wouldn’t trip like you had while practicing walking in them. Despite how he towered over you when you were this close, you made yourself comfortable there, “You’ll be right there every day when I walk in. Try again.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cameron-”

“I prefer Sir.”

Try again. Unfortunately, you were pretty used to being interrupted and forced to stop and start your sentences. “Good morning, Sir.” You were smiling as much as you could, but your throat hurt like your body wanted to cry. “Today, you’ll sss-start with three sss-separate online conferences with potential investors: Mr. Daniel, Mrs. Hunt, and Mr. Rivera. After lunch, you’ll have your weekly group meetings with department heads. You’ll start with Finance at one o’clock, Legal at two, and Design and Architecture at three. Your meeting with Property Management at four o’clock was canceled but rescheduled for Wednesday. For the rest of the day, you will be free to catch up with emails and ssss-submit the …. sss-ssss-strategic plan report you’ve been working on.”

He nodded once throughout your briefing, his face remaining impassive. You thought he might cringe at your mistakes, but he didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like a strange choice for this job. Why would someone like him want to listen to you? 

“Good,” he confirmed, and you were relieved only for a moment. You were okay until he started to look you over, “Turn around.”

You weren’t sure why you looked in his eyes to see if he was being serious. Of course, he was being serious. Awkwardly, you face away from him until he adds, “In a circle, please.”

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment before you faced him again. 

“I have a question,” You said.

“Yeah?”

“About the clothes. I …I didn’t know if it w-would be okay to return ssss-ssss-some of them. I just, there’s sss-so many.”

“And?” Rafe pressed, his brow furrowed. 

“I-I don’t have that much room for them.”

“Hmm,” He thought briefly, “How’s this? You take a picture of yourself in each outfit and then email them to me, and I’ll decide which ones I want you to wear. But everything red can stay. I like the red.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he brushed past you and returned to his desk. Unsure whether you were supposed to move or stay put, you waited in place. 

“I’ll take a coffee. Black. Thanks.”

Eager to escape the room and not feel the weight of his gaze, you hurried out of the doors. Panicked, you approached Eleanor’s desk, waving your hands to get her attention. She was on the phone, but you mouthed “Coffee.” Acting as your life vest, she pointed you toward one of the many doors that lined the wall across from the reception area. 

Inside, you expected to find a normal breakroom, but the room’s decoration reminded you more of a lounge. Black coffee should be easy enough, but your hands shook slightly as you worked the modern, sleek coffee maker. After you prepared the coffee, you took a breath, and made your way back to his office. You kept yourself as composed as possible, and he glanced up at you briefly as you entered. You set it carefully on the coaster near his computer. 

He didn’t directly look at you or the coffee; you took that as your sign to retreat to your desk. 

You sat quietly as he attended all three of his virtual meetings. Inevitably, you started to listen. Sometimes, you’d tune in, wanting to learn something, but you gave up a few times after realizing how complex things were. 

When he finished all his meetings, he spoke up, “What are the arrangements for lunch?” 

“Lunch …” You echoed, thinking about the calendar you recognize, “Is there sss-something sss-specific you’re in the mood for, sir?”

“On Mondays, I have lunch with my COO and CFO. We have standing reservations at several restaurants. You’ll need to pick one, call, and make sure everyone knows the plans.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Was that on the cheat sheet? Had you missed that? After scrolling a few times, you will find the list of restaurants and senior team members. 

You called The Prime, an upscale steakhouse, for Rafe and his senior team, ensuring every detail was perfectly arranged. When it was time to leave, you stood to bid Rafe goodbye, only to be told you were expected to join him. Quickly gathering your things, you followed him down the elevator to the parking garage. Eleanor gave you an encouraging thumbs up and smile as you passed her.

You must’ve looked frightened. 

Rafe’s choice of vehicle, a massive black truck with gleaming rims and immaculate leather seat, wasn’t a surprise, but his courteous gesture was. He opened the door for you and gently placed a hand on your hip to steady you as you navigated the high step into the truck.

“Th-Thank you,” You spoke, your voice small before he closed the door. 

As you sat during the ride, you felt your thighs were too exposed. You crossed your legs, trying to alleviate that feeling, but it proved useless, “You’ll get used to it,” Rafe’s voice snapped you out of being consumed by your thoughts. You hadn’t realized he was even paying attention to you. 

Hesitantly, your eyes roamed over him. His shirt's short sleeves did little to conceal the strength in his arms and the defined lines of his chest. 

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked, his tone relaxed. He wasn’t allowed to ask that, but you recalled the words he had used with you the week prior. Would you fuck him? He’d already crossed a line. You needed to get used to his brashness, “A girlfriend?” He continued. 

“I-I-I,” Breathe in, slowly release, “I don’t.”

“Have you ever had one?”

The underlying implication of his words made you defensive, and you crossed your arms, “Have you, Sir?”

He let our a short laugh, “You just seem a little uptight,” Your lips parted and eyes widened.

“What-”

“I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a while. But you don’t need to date someone seriously to get what you need from them. I guess I’m just wondering if you have someone who . . . relieves your stress.”

“I really, really don’t want to answer that,” You spoke slowly. 

“Relax, we’re just talking. Is this going to be a problem? I’m just trying to get to know my newest employee.”

It felt like a mind game. He wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before—every word, every glance from him seemed designed to put you on edge, to make you second-guess yourself. 

“No, sir,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Are you a virgin, Y/N?” He asked suddenly as if he’d had some brilliant revelation.

“N-No,” You stuttered, lying through your teeth, “I’m not.”

He made a “hmm” sound as he glanced at you, “Of course you’re not. Forgive me; I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

You understood quickly he wasn’t actually looking for your forgiveness. He was testing you, pushing boundaries just to see how you’d react. 

When you arrived, Rafe pulled up to the valet stand, and a nicely dressed attendant quickly came over to open your door. You managed to step out with as much grace as you could muster, feeling the weight of Rafe’s eyes on you as you did. He was out of the truck in a heartbeat, striding around to join you, his hand again guiding you with that firm touch on your lower back. It was possessive, a silent declaration that you belonged to him, at least for the duration of this lunch.

The restaurant's setting was sophisticated and private, and you reached the table reserved for your group. The two of you were last to arrive, which meant all eyes fell on you as Rafe pulled out a chair for you right next to his seat. Two men were at the table, and you were taken aback by the fact that they were as young as Rafe. 

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Rafe gestured to you, making himself comfortable, “Y/N, meet Topper Thornton and Kelce Adams.”

You managed to speak to them, though your words stumbled slightly. They eyed you the same way Rafe often did, like prey. You could almost imagine your name listed on the menu in front of them. But Rafe, with a swift shift in conversation, cut off their questions, his tone a clear warning. When you took a bit too long to decide on your meal, Rafe didn’t hesitate. He ordered for you the moment the waiter arrived, a subtle reminder of the control he held over every aspect of your life, even what you ate.

You couldn’t help but notice that Topper shared Eleanor’s last name. Were they married? Siblings? The thought lingered as you made a mental note to ask her later. Without another word, you pulled out your notebook, ready to take notes for the meeting.

Something in his last meeting had angered him. When he returned to his office, you watched him cross the room; your mouth wanted to form the words to ask, “What’s wrong?” but your lips pressed into a thin line instead. 

As he settled in his desk, you pretended to be engrossed in your notes, hoping to avoid his attention. Ignoring the cold air in the room and the dark cloud hovering above him grew impossible. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and tapped at the surface of his desk. Was it anxiety he was feeling? 

“Come here, Y/N?”

Startled, you dropped your pen on the floor, the sound making him fully turn his head towards you. Awkwardly, you picked it up and set it down on your desk. You fixed your skirt as you crossed the distance between his desk and yours to keep it from riding up. 

“Yes, sss-sir?” 

His eyes were dark as he spun his chair to face you, “Tell me,” He began, “What do you think you did wrong today?”

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong that you hadn’t realized? There were plenty of mistakes, but it was only your first day and you’d been completely thrown out of your comfort zone. 

“I’m not ssss-sssure, sss-sir,” Your voice was barely above a whisper, a grimace on your face as you tried to force out the words. 

“Not sure?” He echoed. 

“I should’ve know t-t-to …” You pushed through that “stuck” feeling, “Make your lunch reservations.”

“That’s one.”

“Uhm,” Your voice trailed off as your bottom lip shook. You felt like a child being scolded. Why did you keep freezing? Why did you let him speak to you that way? “I-I-I-I-I…”

“Does it hurt, you know, when it gets that bad?” Rafe leaned back in his chair, his arms folded against his chest, now looking at you with curiosity and frustration.

You shook your head because it was all you could manage.

“You can’t think of anything else, huh?”

“I’m sss-sss-sorry,” As a tear fell from your eye, he stood from his chair. 

He shushed you, grabbing ahold of the top of your arms, “You know I could have chose anyone for this job?”

You nodded. 

“But I chose you,” You nodded again, “I do love to see you apologize, sweetheart, but you have to know what you’re apologizing for.”

“I’m sss-sssory,” You couldn’t help the apology that tumbled out again, “Fff-for not knowing.”

“There you go, yeah, that’s better,” He pulled you closer, and you felt his hand brush the strands of your hair over your shoulder, keeping it from your face, “I told you this would be a mutually beneficial relationship. You need money, someone to care take care of you… I need ... I need you. When you’re with me, you’re mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. He dominated the space, his presence suffocating, and the fear of displeasing him made your breath catch in your throat. The boundaries between you blurred even further, leaving you more trapped than ever.

“Good girl,” one of his hands wrapped around the side of your neck. His gaze pierced into yours, his mind racing behind them, and he sighed as he mentally concluded, “I can’t punish you just yet.”

“Punish?” You asked in a whisper, his face moving in closer. 

“You gotta learn somehow, right?”

Your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, panicked. Nothing could have prepared you for him smashing his lips against yours. One hand was on your neck, and the other wrapped behind you, pulling you into him. Even as his kiss overwhelmed you, your mind couldn’t let go of the word he had just used—punish.

“I have to fuck you. I have to,” He growled between kisses. 

Your hands pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall, “Please, Rafe,” You tried to say. Part of you thought using his real name would snap him from his trance, but he groaned into your mouth. 

You’d never been kissed like this; no one had ever explored you with their tongue, and part of your mind seemed to rejoice. The other part, the rational one, told you to escape. You started to use your strength to pull from him as you stepped backward, but that only made him grip you harder. 

You yelped, and when Rafe opened his eyes again, he smiled. Whatever weighed heavy on his mind before had clearly been relieved by the game he was trying to play. You stumbled back when he let you go, almost falling on your behind, “Go on,” He said with a smirk, “Just makes it more fun for me.”

Of all the games, you liked this one the least. You turned to flee, but before you could reach the door, he lifted you off the ground. You screamed, and the next thing you knew, you were being thrown onto the couch. Rafe pinned you down easily, his weight crushing you as he reached for your legs. You shut your thighs tightly, and his glare felt like a knife in your side.

“Do not!” He exploded, and you whimpered, “Hey, hey, sweetheart, I don’t want you to ever close your legs to me.” 

“Rafe, please … please d-don’t,” Someone would hear. Eleanor would hear, wouldn’t she? She’d stop him before he went too far. 

“God, I’d beat your fucking ass if I didn’t need to be inside of you right now,” He growled, prying your legs apart and tearing away your underwear as soon as he could feel it. He wrapped one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you pinned down, while the other undid his belt. “You don’t make demands anymore, do you understand?”

“I’ve-I’ve nnn-never…”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. 

“You're a fucking virgin?” You nodded, feeling a small piece of hope, “We can add lying to that list of things you’ve done wrong, huh?”

He seemed to pause which you felt grateful for. His belt was already undone, his hips sinking into yours, “No one’s ever tasted you?” You shook your head, “You’ve never had a cock in your mouth either?”

You looked away, embarrassed. 

“Fuck,” He breathed out, “You’re gonna be all mine.” 

“Please-” You tried again, but he silenced you, pressing his lips to yours again. 

This time, he was more deliberate with his movements. His hands traveled higher, and he reached into your shirt to gently knead at your breasts. He moved slower like he was savoring the moment. At the same time, you felt even more tortured. Your body betrayed you, responding to his caresses as if they were safe, as if he were someone you trusted. He was making all the right moves and your mind felt even more confused then your body. 

Fingers pinched gently at your nipples and your lips parted into a moan. He used it as an opportunity to explore your mouth further. Next, he moved down your jaw and then he nuzzled his face into your neck. There was a place on your collarbone he’d found, one that made you yelp in pleasure, a spot you didn’t know existed. That’s what he wanted. To conquer you. 

You felt warm between your legs and a slickness as you tried to move your legs. Rafe was still taking his time. He’d lifted your shirt, pulled down your bra, and placed your left breast into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching in an automatic response. If he kept going, you knew you could finish just from this alone, and the thought filled you with a mix of shame and despair.

Slowly, methodically, he dismantled your guard. 

When he sensed you were ready, that he’d successfully turned your body on, he pulled down his briefs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down. It was gonna hurt, either way, why dwell on the size? “Tell me,” He kissed your jaw, leaning down to your ear, “Ask me to take your virginity.”

You tensed, “I-I d-don’t.”

“I can make it hurt, Y/N,” He warned, “I promise, you want me to be gentle”

He pressed his tip against your entrance, and you were already cringing, “Fucking ask me, or I’ll push it all inside.”

“Will you …t-take my virginity?”

“Please,” he corrected, a dark satisfaction in his tone.“Where’s your manners?”

“Please, take mmm-my vvvv-vvvv-virginity,” He slowly started to enter you, and you pressed your hands against his chest. 

You started to breathe heavily, “T-T-Too mmm-mmm-much.”

He pushed in more, “That’s just half, sweetheart. Take a deeper breath for me."

You listened even though he was hurting you. Even now, you believed him to be better than you. Looking up at him, you slowly breathed in and out. As you controlled your breathing, he started to move in and out of you. He cursed and grunted into your ear, soon falling into a rhythm. 

Pain began to blur with something else, something you didn’t want to acknowledge. 

It was a foreign feeling, being full of him, reaching to parts of you that had never been discovered. The only thing that felt wrong to you was how it was happening. Is this how it always felt? So completely all consuming? You were warm everywhere, a pressure building at your core, and you struggled to make a sound other than a moan. 

With each thrust you let out a yip, not realizing that you’d stopped pushing at his chest and started pawing at it. That only encouraged him further. He reached underneath you, lifting your left leg to your chest, as he grabbed a handful of your ass. He pried you open further in this position and he looked down at you …almost grateful. He was savoring you and every moment that he was touching you, infiltrating your body. You’d never had someone want you like this. 

Before you were even really aware of it, the pressure inside of you had built to a crescendo, and you’d cried out against Rafe’s lips. 

He smiled against yours, “Good girl, sweetheart,” Tears escaped your eyes again, this time because of how confused your hormones were. It felt like an uncontrolled explosion of emotion. 

Now, the sensation actually felt like something you couldn’t physically handle, “Oh my god, o-oh my god, ” You spoke over and over as you went back to pushing at his chest. 

“Stay,” he commanded, his body pressing you down further as he slowed his movements, his rhythm faltering. “I’m almost done,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re squeezing so tight.”

“Please,” you begged, your legs starting to shake. “Please, Rafe.”

Your words seemed to bring his climax. Your second orgasm came painfully, and you scrambled to free yourself from under his weight after he finished sinking into you. Your legs didn’t stop shaking, but at least you could catch your breath. 

Your bare bottom hit the plush carpet of his seating area, listening as Rafe’s heavy breathing slowed. You fixed your bra and top before you started to search for your underwear. To your dismay, they were completely torn. 

“I’ll get you some new ones, some nicer ones, yeah?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure why. Feeling his gaze, you pushed your skirt down next. Looking down, you realize his remnants were sliding down your thighs. You just shut your legs tighter. A hand on your back made you glance up at him. His eyes were still dark, but there was more satisfaction than before. 

“We’re done for today, but before you leave, uh, Eleanor needs to see you.” 

He stood, and you looked away as he started to zip up his pants and fasten his belt again. 

“Th-That’s it?”

“Until tomorrow,” He said, his tone returned to business, as if the last few minutes were merely part of the workday.

You thought he was returning to his desk, but Rafe walked to your desk and collected your purse and computer. As you stood, your body ached, and you realized how disheveled you must look. Was your makeup smudged across your face? Did he bruise the back of your thighs? 

Rafe brought you your things, his hands finding your lower back, “Go home. Get some rest. And don’t forget about those pictures, yeah?”

You nodded although your mind was elsewhere. The next thing you knew, you were standing on the other side of the door, clutching your bag tightly to your chest. Your mind started to wonder what exactly had caused all this. Was he mad at you, or was that I an excuse to …ruin you. 

When you made it to Eleanor’s desk she asked you, “How was your first day?”

You nodded, trying to shake your expression into a smile, “I-It was … o-okay.”

There was no way she could have missed it in your eyes or in your appearance, but she continued, “I just need you to sign that NDA before you go. It’s completely standard procedure. It just assures that everything you see and hear is confidential. Protects the business.”

You took the papers from her and you tried to keep from shaking, “I can explain anything you need-”

“That’s okay,” You shook your head, knowing you just wanted to go home and hug your stuffed frog, “Thank you.”

You flipped through it quickly and signed your name where she indicated, “There’s one more thing. Are you on birth control?”

You stared, knowing the implication of the words. Why didn’t she warn you before you agreed to this?

You shook your head.

“You’ll need a Plan B. Should I pick it up for you, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

Of course, you’d had friends who’d bought it before but the idea of going by yourself right now made you want to be sick. And you couldn’t tell your friends … at least not yet, “Could you … g-get it?”

“Of course, I’ll have it tomorrow,” She nodded and offered you a polite smile, “Do you need any help getting to the parking deck?”

You shook your head quickly, “I www-walked, thank you.”

As you made your way to the elevator, you wondered how your day spiraled so entirely out of your control.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :) Also pls feel free to send me anons about your predictions/what you'd like to see in the story!

[ybklix]

stressed out

★ pairing: dr!chrisbang x fem!uni student reader

✦summary: Your session with Dr. Bang gets interesting when he kindly decides to relieve the stress you're carrying from the last days of university before the summer break, without knowing that all the tension in your body is due to the great desire you have for him.

✭ content - tags - warnings: MDNI 18+ , smut, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, slightly dirty talk and praise kink, use of nicknames.

word count: 7.7k

—masterlist—

a/n: yk me, a little story that leads to smut.

It was your last day at the university, one more semester finished. You were so close to free yourself from that heavy semester at the university, but somehow you didn't feel so free at all, you were still worried about getting good grades, you knew you would pass everything without difficulty but you were a little demanding with your grades, so you were nervous, and you left your last class a little crestfallen, something that the rest of the students celebrated non-stop, you sighed, you had heard in the distance of the infinity of parties planned, the perfect vacations of the rest, but you could only think about packing all your things without worrying and your mother who would be waiting for you outside the university to spend the summer at home.

Despite being a bit stressed and upset about the soon to be released grades, you had dressed up to finish a cycle feeling cute; you had a nice outfit and your makeup intact so you thought about calling your friends to hang out for a while, who had skipped the last class downplaying it and self-assigning them the break, you checked your group chat and read that they would be in the coffee shop across the building if you wanted to join them... but in the midst of the campus and student chaos, you realized it was Friday. Friday. Of which usually aren't just those days for you. You knew so well what day it was in the morning so you picked the perfect outfit for it, but between the stress and caos of being the last day, you became unaware of the rest of your activities.

Every Friday, at least since this semester, since for a long time it used to be Wednesdays, you had counselor sessions with Dr. Bang, an overworked psychiatrist with four jobs at once, director of a mental institution, his own consulting room, professor and simply student counselor, Bang didn't want to take the big job of being a therapist for the students but upon detecting any alarming problem he was well within his rights to ask the student for professional help, with their cooperation and consent, clearly. You met Dr. Bang just at the worst time of your life, but the timing was perfect, he managed to break you out of a hole that seemed to have no way out.

You had a very painful loss just before finishing high school that altered your mental health completely, your father passed away and a month later you finished your high school studies, so that did not affect so much your streak of student excellence, by that time you had everything ready for admission to any university of excellence for which you applied. Until the university you always dreamed of accepted you and in a short time you were dealing with grief and the pressure and stress of a new place and environment, you moved away from home promising your mother to continue being a good student, but you were in a deep depression and had recurrent anxiety attacks, terrified that you were not good enough, which complicated your studies… and more when without thinking, you planned and considered leaned for health sciences, pushing you to the limit. You were so embarrassed because all your life academically you were a complete overachiever and suddenly you couldn't cope with college, you felt more awful, a total disappointment; so with a mediocre grades -for you- you passed the first semester and continued the next one, this time committing to do your best and going to therapy, plus your mom noticed the obvious alarming signs the few times she saw you during your winter break, she understood the magnitude of things and offered you to take a break, but you were not like that, you couldn't take it or you would feel things would get worse. You switched dorm buildings and that's when you met him… in one of the study halls near your building, one random Wednesday afternoon when you decided to study, 'Counselor Dr. Bang', engraved on the plaque on that door at the end of the hallway… it sort of caught your attention, you thought if counselors in high school was the same as in college and that if anything... he could give you more of a vocational orientation than a psychologist; since you had tried everything, your old study method, countless other techniques, going to study in groups with your smug classmates with superiority complex, but nothing worked for you to retain important information, you thought that maybe you needed someone mature who could guide you.

After that day, you tried to get together to study again in a group, exactly in the room of that building and out of mere curiosity you asked what in particular does 'Dr. Bang', to which you remember perfectly that suddenly all their eyes were focused on you, “Oh, he's also a psychiatrist, he helps a lot, from what I've heard”, you remember their answers.

You then asked how come you could get close to his help, but you were surprised by the sudden exaltation of one girl out of the other 3 in the group.

“Girl, don't go see Dr. Bang, he's mine” you remembered that time your classmate started joking. The others laughed however you found it strange.

“I'm not kidding, I'll finish med school and marry him,” the girl continued.

Another of your girl classmates replied, “Good luck with that. I don't think he would settle for just a girl finishing med school… I mean he has been working here for a while and he's never been known to have a single affair with a student or a recent graduate, you don't even know for sure if he has a wife or kids, he's very private. But I do hear he's important in every job he has.”

“For him I'll find the damn cure for cancer if that's what he wants…wait, when is he going to be our professor?”

“Mmm, I guess until senior…”

“I can't wait” replied the girl excitedly for Bang.

“I honestly don't think you'll make it until senior” added another girl there amused.

One guy rolled his eyes as he overheard the conversation and called for your attention to forget the little twisted comments, “He's really nice, you can go with him anytime, but… to have recurring sessions with him, I think you need to validate that you're really fucked up, since he has a pretty busy schedule.” You nodded, paying attention to him.

“Next week I'll prove I'm a psycho to see him all the time” the girl joked again.

That afternoon the other guys simply laughed, but in you a seed of curiosity had been planted and…. you didn't want to be rude, but their study group was not helpful to you and was not bearing fruit at all, so the next day you went to the mental health department of your university and requested meetings with Dr. Bang, while presenting your long history of appointments with your therapist and your difficulty with learning, so initially the manager suggested you go directly to a female counselor, to make you feel more comfortable... so you didn't have the slightest problem, however he mentioned that he would tell Dr. Bang, as he cleared each of his students beforehand and on Monday you received an email confirming your schedule with Bang on Wednesday afternoons.

And since then your adventure began in late February two years ago. It wasn't until you finally got in and met him that you understood all of your classmate's comments, he was an incredibly attractive and intelligent man. Bang was about to quit after considering working long enough as a counselor, he wanted to focus on less work and prioritize the ones he considered more important… as well as organize and relocate his social life, he wanted to focus on making a life, meeting a woman to marry since his last relationship lasted but was unsuccessful, one of the few things Bang was unsuccessful at was love, Bang was beginning to give up on the search for a relationship, and even considered devoting himself completely to his work and studying another specialty. To cope with the loneliness he used to have casual sex with naïve, young, pretty nurses that made them lose their sanity, but he never took anything seriously, until he met you. You made him stay and he didn't want to admit it, until recently.

Bang saw you, so helpless and vulnerable… and he found something in you that he had never felt before. He saw himself in you, an overachiever. Bang in his early days also had his problems that had caused him to lose focus on what he fought so hard to achieve. Listen to your story was like listening himself.

And so two years went by, he taught you absolutely everything he knew, having study sessions which motivated you and your meetings were reflected in your good grades… however, Bang's admirers found it a little strange that after so long he never officially discharged you, so they began to speculate small rumors that did not pass away from your classmates, but he couldn't, you both enjoyed each other's company so much. So just at the beginning of the year, he decided to move your typical Wednesdays to Fridays, when he usually did not attend the university, but he did it exclusively for you, plus being almost the weekend, students did not resort so much to the study hall, making your visits more discreet.

After so long, the two of you created a purely professional union… until recently, last year before your winter break, when the little flirtations finally began, the complicit glances, the double entendre comments, the slight friction when sitting so close to each other and… for the first time, this year, his touch towards you. He was always there, a year after your meetings you confessed to him your deepest sadness and the reason why your mental health and ability to concentrate were affected, to which he saw you as he had never seen you before, so bad and down, so that every anniversary of your father's death you made a small comment which Bang immediately comforted you and made you feel good, until a little over a month ago, you were more than sad, you were stressed in some way, you lived with the burden of knowing that your mother was sad and lonely, you wanted to focus completely on the university and you still had the pain of the departure of that someone, so Bang slowly persuaded you to tell him exactly how you felt and… slowly and gently he began to massage your shoulders, an act that surprised you but helped too much, you hadn't had contact or that kind of attention in years as you were too busy at school and suddenly the pressure of his fingers on your tense muscles felt so good; after massaging you, he said a little awkward and with a nervous chuckle if that was okay with you, so you couldn't agree more. And his massages continued, but the next time you felt it differently, maybe because you were ovulating and you really liked Dr. Bang, but from then on you left his office feeling aroused.

With him everything was easier for you, you felt that it was unfair to others, but you were still incredibly lucky to have him, every week he would sit with you and help you study every single complicated topics of extremely important subjects, he was your individual tutor, you admired him more and more, he was a know-it-all. Then you got to know more about his personality a little bit… he was quite kind and tender, a little bit strange, nervous and rambled too much with what he wanted to say but, he helped you so much that now you stood out among the whole student body and you even felt that you changed your habits, suddenly you were more tidy and… you would occasionally listen to his favorite music to feel close to him, even though you weren't, when you left that office you didn't see him again until your next session, you rarely saw him walking around the campus, but, it was enough time together that, you got to know each other so well as you slowly let out slight details about yourselves.

You didn't know if he would be there, you had no fixed thing to communicate on other than e-mail and it wasn't something that young people your age regularly use as a purpose of communication… you just waited for him to open the door, you were hesitant to knock… you had both said goodbye last time with a “see you next week” but you had completely forgotten that it would be the last day of school. The study room was a mess, more students celebrating and behaving childishly while you stood outside of your mature counselor's door, wanting to see him one last time before you went home, you knew Bang wouldn't be able to try anything with you so you don't want to waste energy trying to flirt but… seeing him was enough for you, living in the delusion of a life together kept you a little human and not just an academic machine.

You knocked on his door softly, with the same pattern of knocks you unconsciously put together over the years, two knocks, one second and the third knock. Your hopes didn't even manage to dampen, as he opened the door immediately and your nerves escalated out of all proportion. He smiled at you as he saw you, forming two soft dimples below his mouth, there you were, in front of him waiting for your session with him. You looked up to get a better look at him, Dr. Christopher Bang, looking so breathtaking and masculine, you wanted to let out a sigh but didn't let yourself do it. Bang stepped aside to let you pass and closed the door behind you.

You observed the place, his office decorated in gothic architecture just like the rest of the university, full of wood and bookshelves and, in his chair behind his desk, you noticed his medical gown overlapping on the back of it, you assumed he must have come from the hospital, Chris was wearing dark cloth pants, perfectly ironed white button down shirt, tight to his muscular body and a thin black tie. Just when you couldn't find him more attractive, it was only enough for you to turn to see him again, to make your heart race and your breathing become heavy, sometimes you wondered if for him it was visible the effects he had on you, after all he was the studied doctor.

“Welcome” he said softly.

You walked into the small living room area in his office, into his leather couches, the light was very bright from his large window behind his desk and in front of his living room.

“Hi” you replied, smiling lively.

Chris placed his hands behind his back and walked over to you.

“I thought you weren't coming today, weren't you supposed to be at some party celebrating your last day of school?” he teased you a little.

He always joked that you weren't the party type of girl, you liked to get drunk once in a while but a party full of sweaty college kids wasn't a fun or hygienic option for you, Chris found it adorable.

You let out a giggle and turned your whole body to face him.

“I couldn't miss my last session with you, Dr. Bang” you commented seductively to which Chris swallowed nervously, he was so turned on when you suddenly got that way but as an adult, he had to concentrate.

But even pretending to be flirtatious you couldn't hide your slight grimace at being stressed, your head hurt a little, and uselessly you thought that being with Chris would take the pain away eventually. He knew you so well that, his slight nervousness at being excited changed in a second to concern.

“Everything okay?” he changed his tone and softened the movement of his eyebrows.

You opened your eyes in surprise as he recognized something happening and sketched a smile. You sighed and walked a few steps to the elongated couch and plopped down.

“Yeah… just… same old same old, I'm worried about my grades” you replied worriedly.

Chris let out a chuckle, he couldn't believe the obsessive little monster he had turned you into, you were twenty one years old and you should be worrying about more banal things like… the launching of some celebrity's new makeup line, since makeup was one of the things you were interested in besides being the best.

“You'll do fine” he spoke sweetly to you. Chris was about to approach you but had another idea, heading to his little liquor area. “Well… if you won't go party with guys your own age, then I'll party with you, here's to another successful semester” you heard him say behind you followed by a sound of glass clinking softly.

You turned your body to see him pouring alcohol into two glasses. Your nerves escalated further, it was the first time you would have that kind of activity.

“What is it?” you asked curiously as you watched him attractively approach you with the two glasses ready.

Chris smiled sideways in amusement and sat down next to you, handing you your glass.

“Whiskey, but drink it slow, sweetie.”

You blushed immediately upon hearing him call you that, he gently raised his glass in toast and you clinked your glass with his. Chris didn't drink from his drink until you did, which surprised you. He watched you intently as you brought the glass to your mouth.

“Like this, slowly, and then quickly…” he said in concentration.

You watched him as you did it and found it so appealing, however you closed your eyes tightly grimacing in disgust as you felt the alcohol burn your throat, which distracted you completely. He let out a chuckle as he saw your expression and quickly drank his without difficulty, just a slightly grimacing with his mouth.

“It's a bit strong for many people” Chris added.

“It was for me” you replied pushing the glass away and setting it down on the small table in front of you.

“Are you stressed?” he said suddenly, trying to make conversation.

You nodded softly, running your tongue around your mouth trying to forget the taste of alcohol.

“You know I am… I'm really nervous about the grades, I think they'll be posted tomorrow.”

“Will you be here in the city for tomorrow?” he asked to which you softly shook your head, Chris didn't like that, he could see you every day… but you were a student and practically his patient, it was completely unethical. “And what will you do once you're back in your hometown?”

You smiled at him.

“I don't know, it'll be boring, I'll look for a job, I'll try to be useful.”

Chris looked you straight in the eye and blurted out without thinking.

“My consulting room needs a receptionist… I mean, it's a job and…. you can keep learning.”

He lied, but he could fire his receptionist without thinking if you took him up on the offer. You looked at him puzzled more however you didn't remark your expression so well.

“Dr. Bang… Sorry, I don't have anywhere to stay in the city” you confessed apologetically, not knowing what to say.

Bang lowered his gaze to the glass and his long fingers intertwined in it, he was dying to tell you that that wasn't a problem, you could stay with him as long as you wanted… but once again he had to set limits.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, sorry. Still the offer is well standing.”

“Thank you.”

“Feeling a little more relaxed already?” he asked again, you nodded. “You know… I still remember my last day of the semester when I was twenty-one, there was this party at Delta Psi fraternity… it was a little… weird, I hope things have changed now” he counted animatedly.

You frowned, ready to hear more of his anecdote and founding sweet that he wanted to distract you, but a loud knock on his door followed by noise from outside startled you. Chris sighed in annoyance.

“Will you excuse me?” he stood up, holding his tie and headed for his door.

You stirred in your seat, he looked so fine pissed off and backwards as he walked to the door. Once again you were beginning to tense up, but this time from sexual frustration.

“Can you please stop making noise? You are in college, behave accordingly, or go outside and make noise you want” exclaimed Chris, scolding those outside, he turned to you “Sorry… the noise.”

Chris locked the door as a reflex and sat down again next to you, this time closer to you, you were about to ask him and tell him to resume his anecdote, but you lost yourself in the closeness of his face, and you analyzed the harmony of it, his dark hair, his straight eyebrows, sharp and small eyes, his prominent and attractive nose in combination with his full pink lips; you tensed again and your heart beat got stronger. Chris admired you too, from your perfectly detailed face with makeup, even the nice outfit you were wearing, Bang licked his lips… feeling the tension and a myriad of dirty thoughts crossing his mind and everything he would do to you, if only he would put his morals aside. Chris recalled his vivid memories of being twenty-one… the gentleness and sweetness that girls that age tasted… Chris closed his eyes and gently turned his head away from you, trying to clear each of those thoughts. Of the anatomy of your pussy prostrate on his cock, of you in genupectoral position with the vulnerability of your ass and needy pussy at his mercy.

Fuck, Chris thought, for the first time in all your encounters -and in his entire career- he was getting hard, they were just innocent little flirtations… but just not today, today his body was betraying him as it never had before. Chris cleared his throat and reacted in seconds, he didn't want you to suspect something was wrong so… just this time he decided to put his morals aside and pay attention to his human needs and carnal desires. He was going to fuck you so good that would make you get a fucking apartment just to do it with him every day.

“I'm glad you're okay but…” he said slowly sitting back up and bringing his hands to your weak shoulders, “I still feel you a little tense.”

You almost sighed at his sudden touch, but it was true, your muscles were stiff from being so excited and unable to do anything; Chris wasn't an idiot, this was just a excuse to touch you but he got a big surprise to really find you stressed. But for you more than stress it was frustration.

Chris kept squeezing your muscles until he squeezed a little too hard, causing you to moan; that was it, that alone was enough for Chris to fully sexually arouse him, he was hard and, if it wasn't because you were so focused on yourself not to screw up and not look like a horny mess, you would notice that Bang was in the same situation as you.

“You're so stressed, honey, look at you” he spoke in a thick voice of which surprised you.

You had your eyes closed in embarrassment and it occurred to you to open them as you heard him a little different… concentrating to Chris looking at you with dark eyes of pure desire, weakening your body more in seconds, you saw his strong arms near your shoulders and…. unconsciously you looked down, finally discovering his prominent erection that surprised you at how big it looked. He was as aroused as you were.

“Fuck, y/n, you're so tense… I can feel it… all over your body…” he spoke again excitedly, making your attention focus on him.

You saw him bite his lip and started to lower his hands squeezing your arms.

“Are you stressed, sweetie?” he asked again, until his hands reached your thighs squeezing them.

“Yes” you moaned.

“You’re so tense, I can feel it… more in this place” Bang said squeezing your thigh and directing his fingers to your already wet pussy, “Let me make you feel good, babygirl” he moaned.

Your body jolted as you felt his hands gently spread your legs apart and brush his fingertips across your panties. You couldn't process that he had finally decided to cross that line, but it felt so good. You always wore only underwear under your skirt on purpose for Dr. Bang.

“Relax, relax, make yourself comfortable, babygirl” he spoke softly in his therapist voice combined with desire, making you lean your back against the back of the couch, “Spread your legs, let me make you feel good, are you okay with that?” he raised his eyebrows waiting for an answer.

“Y-yes” you gasped again.

Bang smiled sideways and quickly got down on his knees between your legs, he gently lifted your skirt and admired the fabric of your wet underwear from the situation.

“I'm going to take all the stress off you, okay babygirl?”

You nodded, completely blinded by desire as you watched your chest rise and fall heavily. Chris began to stroke your clitoris over the thin white fabric of your underwear, making you explode in pleasure with his fine touch, he squeezed your entrance and labia, gently stimulating them. You bit your lip trying not to gasp loudly, finally he pulled the fabric aside and looked with estimation at your entrance lubricating itself, so helpless and needy as he opened your folds, making you let out a high pitched whimper.

Chis licked his lips again hungrily, he had never seen another pussy as appetizing and juicy as yours, he was dying to taste it but wanted to focus on your pleasure. He slid down your panties, leaving you bare of your bottom part and you gasped as you felt the cool air brush against your throbbing, exposed pussy.

“Let me make you feel good” he repeated, stroking the length of your folds and labia, “Feels good?”

You nodded again with difficulty, you were beginning to tremble with overstimulation, Bang began stroking your clitoris again, leading to your body, satisfaction and little twitches. You saw his hand play with your pussy from your angle and how he smiled with satisfaction, the sensations were getting stronger and newer for you that you were feeling desperate and so good at the same time.

“Just relax your body, let yourself go, babygirl” he whispered in a low, lustful voice. “I'm going to stick two fingers in you, okay?”

“Yes” you said again this time more yielding, trying to relax your stiff body a bit more, at the same time struggling to keep your legs open as you had no fixed support to leave them on.

Chris again pulled your folds apart to get a better view of your soaking wet little entrance, making you shudder, he gently brushed your entrance and watched your every reaction, so excited and fighting your instincts, then he realized that seeing your pussy was not enough, he wanted to see all of you and touch every corner of your body. Chris stopped touching your pussy for a moment to which you felt as if something was missing. You saw him, his gaze conveyed desire, yet he didn't leave his gentle and sweet countenance.

“But first, babygirl, let your whole body calm down, go on, undress for me.”

You slowly sat up and toke off your blouse as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly.

“That's it, good girl, undress. I'll do the same, alright?” you bit your lip and heat came to your ears and stomach as you heard him tell you good girl, unsure what he meant after that, you finally took off your bra as well.

Dr. Bang bit his lips at the sight of your bare chest and admired the shape of your tits with nerve and desire, you smiled slightly in satisfaction knowing you had him so turned on too and understood everything when you watched his hand go to his belt, all your attention focused on his deft long fingers unbuckling his belt and then opening the button of his pants, slowly sliding the zipper all the way down, and finding with his tight black boxer and his protruding hard bulge with little drops of precum, suddenly your mouth felt so lonely, you wanted to make him feel good too but didn't know how to say such boldness and, as anxiety consumed you, he finally pulled down his underwear relieving of his big wiggling and growing cock all by itself. You had never felt so eager for a cock this much in your life, you wanted to taste the softness of his red swollen tip coated in his precum and feel every pumping vein of his length. You thought his cock was so attractive and clean looking, just like the bearer of it.

Chris gasped at finally having his cock free, yet he would feel freedom and at the same time captivity when his member is buried deep inside you making you feel good. Only then would he be free, when your muscles completely relax and you overflow your sweet orgasm on him. He smiled mischievously as he saw you not taking your eyes off his cock, Bang knew clearly that he was well endowed and could hurt your tight sensitive hole if he didn't do it carefully, after all he knew perfectly well the anatomy of both sexes and knew the sensations of a big intruder inside a woman's vagina. Chris didn't want to take you and fuck you wildly, his whole life and career was based on discipline and dedication, so he wanted you to enjoy every second of what the sexual act entailed, besides he loved to help you in every possible way, you were always very well behaved with him, you innocently followed his little flirting game but never dared to throw yourself on him, he had to reward you somehow for your good behavior.

Bang came up to your face and looked tenderly into your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly and gently.

You looked into his eyes and then at his full lips in a second and, without even answering him, you joined your lips with his; you found it incredibly tender and ironic how he could ask you such a thing when he had literally seen and touched your pussy just a few minutes ago, plus you looked so docile and submissive, it was clear that you were willing to whatever he wanted to do with you right now, you were so vulnerable. Chris took your face with his left hand which was slightly clean of your fluids, trying not to let his fingers fall completely on your face and gently pulled you away from his lips for your impulsive action, he gave you small sweet sounding kisses, feeling every particle of your organ, enjoying every second as he always dreamed of feeling them and then he kissed you passionately, so intense and united that you felt the pressure of his nose on your face, and made you open your mouth wider to boldly explore your cavity, and feeling your tongue, managing to elicit from both of you heavier gasps and breaths. With his right hand he caressed your neck a little and moved it down to your breasts and nipples, you were so excited and sensitive that you were afraid of cumming at any moment. His nimble hand continued down to caress your pussy again, this time making you moan between the intimate act you were both sharing and leaving you breathless, so he pulled away from you, now moving his mouth caresses down your neck to your sensitive tits, kissing, licking and sucking them delicately while his left hand was in charge of feeling the other one. His hot kisses moved down with his hand, as he kissed your abdomen, his hand squeezed your waist and his grip stopped at your left thigh, until his lips reached your mons pubis where he finally pulled away from you a little after kissing you gently.

Chris happily watched your expression of pleasure, your eyebrows down and your slightly open mouth; his thumb took care of stimulating the sensitive spot of your clitoris as he gently rubbed, once again, along your labia and without warning and with agility, he inserted two of his long digits that you had previously allowed, into your tight entrance, to which you whimpered in shock and pleasure.

Chris could take no more, his cock throbbed more and more with increasing intensity, but he had to hold out a little longer, as he knew that female pleasure could last longer and had to be carefully worked into it. He skillfully fucked your insides, exploring and feeling his fingers slide into the softness of your walls as you gasped with pleasure, harder and harder.

“Shhh, just keep a little quiet, okay, babygirl? I won't stop and I'll keep making you feel good until you cum” he whispered to you.

You pressed your lips together and bit them hard, just emitting gasps full of air coming from the strength in your chest. He was right, you had forgotten all about it once he started touching you, there were people outside his office… and a large window next to you, yet you were on a second floor and between his large desk obstructing the view, you couldn't see clearly.

Chris continued to turn you on and take such good care of your pussy while his fingers were in you; you felt on cloud nine but every now and then you thought if he would let you taste his cock or if you would feel it inside you today, you needed him so bad, your pussy throbbed just thinking about it.

“One more finger, okay?” gasped Chris inserting his ring finger before you could even answer him.

You whimpered again trembling a little in pain, you wanted him to fuck you all at once, you felt incredibly tense and excited that you were no longer thinking straight, but Chris just wanted to get you ready before he was inside you.

“Fuck my fingers, babygirl, c'mon, move on them” he groaned, looking at his fingers stuck in your pussy, then looking at you while you felt his hot breath near your cunt.

You brought your left hand near your mouth trying not to moan so loudly and started to move your hips enjoying his fingers inside you.

“Fuck” you whispered excitedly feeling his bony fingers moving and touching your internal organ.

“Good girl, you're doing it so good, fucking my fingers so well, you're such a good girl, are you enjoying it, sweetie?”

You gasped in response unable to formulate words. Chris smiled proudly, bit his lower lip and inhaled air between his teeth watching the obscenity of his hand at your entrance and your sweet fluids escaping.

“Fuck, you're so fucking wet, look at you. I'm gonna make you feel so good babygirl, I'm gonna taste you” he warned you almost in a whimper.

With his free hand he positioned your tired legs on his broad strong shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy and, leaning a little closer, he pulled out his thick hot tongue running it all over your wet vulva making you explode, closer and closer to your orgasm. Chris gently sucked on your labia and withdrew his fingers from your entrance splashing some of your liquid on his chin.

“Mmm you taste so fucking good, babygirl, what the fuck, so good” he whispered.

Suddenly Chris found himself lost deep in your pussy, he was so loaded of you and he was enjoying it too much, giving you off little vibrations as he tasted you with his hot 'mmh', making your legs tremble, you were so close to orgasm finally. He continued, placing little kisses on your clit and with the tip of his tongue stimulating you quickly in a series of motions, you were so desperate you didn't know where to rest your hands calmly, so you directed your right hand to his head, stroking his hair for the first time. Chris caught your gaze instantly as he felt your hand in his hair and he stared at you as he tasted your clitoris and with one finger gently penetrated your entrance.

You broke eye contact with him as you again felt his tongue and lips run down the length of your folds, you closed your eyes in pleasure and shook your head ready for your orgasm that was slowly contracting in your body. Bang continued, never leaving your sensitive spot once he withdrew his tongue of it, his fingers now caressing it as he was lost in the glorious slurping sound of his mouth in your pussy, until he reached your entrance, parting your folds for better access of his tongue, making you scream, he was eating you out so well you wanted to cry.

You couldn't hold it in any longer and finally released all the tension, climaxing in his mouth as you held back your gasp biting down hard on your lip. Chris pulled away and watched in detail your glistening fluids slide out and your hole throb, he smiled and took it upon himself to clean you, running his tongue one last time before standing up. Cleaning himself around his mouth too, licking his lips.

“I'm gonna fuck you, now, alright?” he moaned, his cock was still hard and needy and his precum droplets ached to come out as he was holding back his orgasm.

You saw his sex, so foreplayed and red; you began to get excited and lubricated yourself again by the obscenity of his cock. Chris accommodated your body, putting your head on the couch cushion and doing his best to make you very comfortable and positioned his body over you, he spread your legs a little more and you saw his tender but intimidating expression of concentration as he inserted his cock into your hole. Bang was a doctor with a specialty, he knew fucking well he was about to have unprotected sex, but he was so lost between desire that, feeling your insides with his fingers and tongue was not enough, his sensitive and swollen cock had to feel it on its own to check how good you feel, thus bare, he wanted all his discharge in you, your vagina unrecognizing his sperm and, he seeing it struggling to squirt the unknown cum, he wanted to fill you completely for being so good with him and studying so hard, you deserved it, finally a great break. And you, always so dedicated, were more than willing to feel Dr. Bang's raw cock inside you.

You gasped and shuddered as you felt his cock enter you, Bang gasped at the sensation of your hole slowly opening to make way for his cock, it was huge, you knew it and you were feeling it, but you still wanted every inch of him in you. Chris had inserted half of his hard limb and you were already gasping with pain and pleasure.

“God, you're so tight, so fucking tight, I want to fuck your pussy so bad” Chirs spluttered panting and excited, bringing out the vein in his neck and forehead.

And slowly, he entered into you fully until you felt his balls gently rubbing against your pussy, you let out a stifled little whimper, even inside you, you could feel his large size and you noticed him bulging in a soft lump in your belly. Chris began to slowly penetrate you, his whole cock inside you, thrusting his hips; you whimpered at the sensation and held yourself entwining your arms around his back still wearing his shirt, feeling the tingle of his tie as it fell and brushed against your chest. He moved his body closer, brought your foreheads together for a moment, staring at you as he kept ramming your pussy hard and sweetly kissed your lips, pulled away from you and positioned his head in the hollow of your neck, feeling and hearing his hot, light moans, turning you on more and, when you thought you were completely sexually satisfied, you felt his hand caress your clit, causing you to reflexively close your legs, squeezing his broad lower torso. Your pussy was so sensitive to every movement and stroke of Chris's cock, you felt his thrusts change a little as you were mindful of the sensation of his cock sliding through your core, you sighed, you were so stressed that you couldn't moan so loudly at the feel of his big dick. The sound of both wet sexes colliding was so obscene, both of you completely devoted to each other.

“You feel so good, fuck, y/n. Moan for me softly.”

Chris loved the feeling of your tight walls squeezing his cock, and your small orifice dilating adapting to his size, after minutes of the incredible sensation, Chris could feel your second climax close; but only this time he would 'punish' you, as he also fantasized about you fucking him yourself, he wanted to see you so overwhelmed jumping on his cock; so he suddenly pulled out of you causing a small mess of your fluids.

“I want you to fuck me babygirl, sit on my cock please” he asked you demanding but soft.

You bit your bottom lip as you watched Chris sit up, you stood up and, quickly Bang found the zipper of your skirt, unzipping it and making it fall gracefully, finally leaving you naked, which made him lick his lips lusting after you; you spread your legs and positioned yourself over his lap, you took his wide hard cock with your left hand to guide it to your entrance as you held onto his shoulder. Chris smiled admiring your flushed cheeks and your face of concentration, until you both gasped once feeling joined; first you slid his glans and then you let yourself fall completely on his cock, squeezing down to your cervix, you were one hundred percent sure that your poor vaginal canal was no match for Chris's cock length, who you looked at and also had a moaning expression on him, you admired again his closeness, every small and almost non-existent pore of his well-kept face and the roughness and manliness of the texture of his neck, you also wished to see him completely naked so you awkwardly played with his tie trying to take it off.

“Do you want to unbutton my shirt, sweetheart?” he said tenderly noticing your actions.

You nodded encouragingly, “Yes, Dr. Bang.”

Chris was turned on by you speaking to him formally, making his cock throb more of which you resented inside and let out a moan. He loosened his tie, tossed it aside and helped you unbutton his shirt faster, exposing his muscular, hard-working body.

“Move for me, ahh, that's right, good girl.”

You began to stir yourself on his cock, moving with it all the way to his testicles sweetly squeezed by your weight, as you held onto his marked pecs and gradually lifted your body to keep a rhythm to the frantic bouncing on his cock. You eagerly and between gasps felt his cock rise and fall up and down the tract inside you, trying to take it all, making you sweat a little from your exertion. Chris squeezed your waist tightly, helping to propel you forward.

“Oh that's it, fuck me, you're doing excellent, good girl, fuck, taking so well my cock” he whimpered as his eyes were fixed on your tits moving and his cock burying into your tight pussy.

His words turned you on more and encouraging you to keep going. Accelerating your squats more and more, causing Chris to widen his eyes in surprise, increasing the intensity of his heartbeat and suffocating his cock more.

“Fu-fuck, I-i'm gonna cum inside of you, I'm gonna fill your pussy like the good girl you are.”

Chris let go himself completely, he had held back his orgasm long enough so followed by shuddering whimpers, he ejaculated inside you, feeling his warm shot of cum; you were so close too, which he could predict so he continued to praise you softly.

“Keep it up, beautiful, cum on my cock, come on, you can do it.”

You buried your nails a little into his chest and cum, spilling your second orgasm down the length of his cock, making both of you a mess, your combined fluids slipping and sliding down his balls and lightly onto his thighs. You both tried to catch your breath. Chris remained holding you tightly around your waist so that you stayed right there and so on top of him, he didn't want to give up the feel of your core in him, he wanted a little of cockwarming in you.

“Wow… that” Chris tried to say, slowly coming back to his senses, realizing he had finally fucked you, reality suddenly hit him, you were still sitting on his cock and over his lap with your cheeks red and your babyhair slightly tousled and glistening in a minimal layer of sweat from your exertion, he let out his typical nervous chuckle, “…that was wonderful. You know… anytime you need help relaxing, we can do it whenever you want. Maybe next time you can do all the noise you want.”

You stared into his eyes perplexed that he had just implied that from now on, you could fuck anytime you wanted.

“But you'll leave tomorrow, right?” he spoke again.

You nodded disappointed, he was right, you had to go back to your hometown tomorrow; you sighed and hugged him gently, leaning your head on his shoulder, tired and breathing in his scent, thinking you didn't want to leave him, your summer would be boring anyway, you needed him, the feeling of his cock inside you, filling you up felt so good, you were going to miss him. You've never had your stress taken away like that before.

----

dividers by chilumitos ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

[cyxnidx]

LATE NIGHTS.

character: neuvilette x fem!reader

prompt: "please forgive me.. jus' couldn't wait."

warnings: consensual somnophilia, needy + sensitive neuvi, wet dream, slight dacryphilia, edging

a/n: been thinkin ab this for ages

neuvilette is shaken from his sleep after a wet dream. a dream that was so intense it seemed to get him out of his sleep - his hard on lifting the sheets from his current sleeping position.

and out of the corner of his eye - was you. your peaceful, sleeping figure. eyes closed softly, quiet snores occasionally leaving your soft lips. out of what he'd excuse as curiosity, he pulled the sheets back. just a bit. it exposed nothing too extreme: just an oversized shirt you'd bought while out shopping. it was supposed to be a piece for an outfit, but now it's just a classic shirt you sleep in.

removing the sheets further, he admires the way the shirt cascades down your body, hugging you perfectly.

the more of you he sees, the worse he gets. he's palming his cock now, noticing the spots of pre leaking from his tip. he takes another look at you, the sheets now fully off your body. your legs exposed, as you curl into a ball due to the lack of warmth.

the thoughts in neuvilettes mind are anything but professional - anything but acceptable. but you wouldn't mind, right?

you did at some point have that discussion. the discussion of what you wouldn't mind sexually, and what you're into. the same conversation that made neuvilette shy out of his mind.

"if for whatever reason you're awake, and horny while i'm asleep, but don't wanna wake me up.. don't be shy to fuck me til i wake up." your voice echos through his mind. "i won't be upset, promise."

he sighs, moving hesitantly as an attempt to not wake you. he knows it may be inevitable, but he'd want you to get every second possible.

pulling his bottoms off, his cock springs from its confines and slaps up against his stomach. the moonlight defines his body, creating a silhouette only a god would create. his tip is pink and angry when he takes hold of it, pulling off your bottoms as well.

he lightly rubs against your pussy lips, spreading your slick before inserting two fingers. he curls them upward, almost smirking at your unconscious reaction. he then moves to lick a stripe up your cunt, tongue fucking you softly as to not stir you too much. when he feels you're slick enough, he takes hold of his tip.

though, he still frowns. he pushes himself against you, almost groaning at the way your slick feels against his tip. the idea of using you in your sleep still bothers his slightly, but he wasn't against the idea. especially not for a first time occurrence.

pushing himself past your folds and into your tight little hole, he tries to keep moving to a bare minimum - as much as possible, anyway.

"jus for a little, baby.." he mumbled, slowly fitting himself in you. bottoming out, he watched you stir in your sleep once again, likely at the feeling of being so full. "sorry.." he apologized, kissing your forehead as he began to move slowly.

his veiny cock dragged against the gummy walls of your cunt. you clenched around him involuntarily, provoking a surprised moan from him. once again, you stir from the noise. "neuvi.. neuvilette..?" you mumbled. neuvilette kissed your forehead softly, though, with no response you seemed to go right back to sleep.

at the very beginning, he thought it'd be easier. easy as ever, actually. until he kept getting a little too aggressive, making you stir in your sleep unintentionally, or almost waking you up had he not coaxed you back to your dreamland.

as time went on, neuvilette began to see it as a game of sorts - to not wake you up. only bad thing being, he constantly edged himself. the closer he got to his climax, the rougher he'd get. the more likely you were to be woken up. he didn't want to - he hated the idea of you losing sleep over him not having control over his sexual urges. but what could he do?

but now, his hand wrapped around your tit while the other took hold of your waist, he got needy. he was nearing a sort of overstimulation he'd never dealt with before. a neediness he never expected. a roughness even he wouldn't think could be provoked from him.

"please forgive me.." he mumbled, looking into your sleepy eyes as your hands couldn't decipher whether they wanted to grip the sheets at his fast pace or rub the sleep out of the corners of your eyes. "m' so sorry.. so sorry.." he whined, tears lining his eyes as he increased his pace, encouraged by the small moans and whines that began to exit your lips. "jus' couldn't wait.." he kisses your forehead, grip tightening over your waist.

"said i could, yeah? you don't mind.." he repeated what he remembered, his mind foggy from constantly edging himself. "couldn't wait. you were so pretty, and.." it began to rain outside as tears cascaded down his rosy cheeks. "..you understand, right? right?"

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Number 4/ Klaus Hargreeves would include☂️👻:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: Brief mentions of addiction

A/N: I started Umbrella Academy a week ago and I’m obsessed, I’m almost done with season 3 and I can’t wait for season 4. I’d managed to fall in love with Robert Sheehan all over again and all that love has to go somewhere so here it is.

Waking up to little peppered kisses on your back and up your torso. If you don’t open your eyes he’ll just start blowing raspberries into your neck and on your face. Once he hears you laughing he’ll stop and flip you over. He likes being the first thing you see when you wake up. Some days are a little more peaceful and less silly, you wake to see him still asleep. A mess of curls and smudged glitter eyeshadow is the first thing you see. He’s at such peace and the most still you’ll ever see him. 

Putting makeup on each other, whether it’s going out or just playing around with new looks it doesn’t matter. Being able to experiment with new colors and combinations with each other is so much fun. On date nights you’ll pick outfits for each other, sometimes even just wearing each other’s clothes. Doing things like this with him leads to doing most things together. 

Why have him do things when you can do it for him? Or even with him? He loves having you wash his hair. Showers, baths? Of course we have to both be in there at the same time! Klaus is so touch starved any reason to spend time together he’ll take it,an added bonus is your company keeps the spirits away. 

You’re always in close proximity to each other, so your skin is always touching. Klaus just can’t get enough, physical touch becomes his middle name. He’s a natural affectionate person but just having you near is very grounding for him. 

He’ll draw on you with little glitter pens he carries in his pocket, he likes to call you his “canvas and his muse.” Even without the pens he’ll trace random shapes and words onto your arm or your back when you both lie in bed. Klaus also likes to play with your fingers when he’s bored.

Kissing!! He’s such a fiend for kissing my god, after that first kiss he’s finished. He always says he wants just one but it ends up escalating to a full on make out sesh. Doesn’t matter if you’re public or not you look too good it’d be a crime not to kiss you. Klaus doesn’t really give a damn about public embarrassment, if you wanted him to he’d run through central park naked, he would.

 Once he knows you’re ok with all the random bursts of affection he really piles it on. Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, nose kisses, not one day goes by where he doesn’t kiss you. He kisses like he wants to devour you, if he wasn’t able to kiss you that’d be hell on Earth. If you’re a fan of random kisses at the most inappropriate times he’s a professional. You’re driving, he’s gonna make out with you. Out shopping, kissing! Right now! Doctor’s appointment? Kisses under your jaw in the waiting room, he can’t help it, he's bored.

Helping him get clean, you and Ben have been pretty good influences in his life. Trying to keep him on the straight and narrow for the sake of his health. He wants to be present for you, he wants to be able to remember the things you do together. You help him find fun things to do without getting drugs involved. Taking your time and being patient with him means the world to him. He loves his siblings but they aren’t the best at helping him with it. They do try a little harder when you come around seeing how serious you are about helping him. You stay awake with him when his nightmares get too bad or when the withdrawal is really wearing him down. If it’s the ghosts that are bothering him you just tell them to piss off.(he really appreciates that)

Klaus begins to teach himself new skills to help you out around the house, cooking, cleaning you name it. He doesn’t do it very well but you appreciate the effort anyway. Chores become another activity for you both to do. He’ll even indulge in some of your hobbies just for the fun of it. 

Tattoos! He gets something on his wrist that reminds him of you, he can’t wait to show you too. If you get one related to him, god forbid a little number 4 on you he’ll cry. He does eventually tell you about the rest of his journey in Vietnam and Dave. Klaus wants to be sure you know he won’t compare you to him, He’ll always love Dave but he doesn’t love you any less. He’ll get really shy if you kiss his hand tattoos, there aren’t a lot of ways to fluster him so that’s a good one. 

Being surrounded by death and destruction most of his life really makes him appreciate what you have. The way you indulge in his antics and impulses makes Klaus feel so seen. You don’t feel real to him sometimes; late at night he’ll just lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beating. 

When some crazy new developments or drama happens in his family you’re first to know. Luther tells him something very personal and secret and 15 mins later he’s calling you on the mansion’s phone. 

Luther: “This stays between us Klaus I mean it…” Klaus: “Of course Lulu I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone you’re dirty little secret” A few moments later… Klaus: “Babe you’ll never believe what Luther just told me!”

He’ll always be looking at you, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing you have his full attention. Klaus will just be gazing at you lovingly while five is trying to talk to him, eventually he’ll just ignore him and go to talk to you. You're his favorite person to talk to; he never gets bored with you.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[pomefioredove]

Hello!!! Can I request for a one-shot of Vil x RSA reader, where Neige is very close to the reader and Vil is jealous, So try to make Reader spend more time with him than with Neige and show them that he is better than him?

-🐭

AWAHHH I LOVE THIS ONE

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in the way

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, unless they were like a yuu that went to RSA, it could happen, not proofread

The only thing more poisonous than jealousy is Vil Schoenheit himself.

Long after the winner of the VDC had been voted, announced, and publicized, Neige Leblanche's face put on every screen and newspaper, there was you.

Vil knew he was poisoned by hatred.

Though he had a right to be; his confidant, his, perhaps only friend, had betrayed him for the person who made him despise himself like nothing else. The person he could never be, no matter how hard he tried.

An eye for an eye.

He had, painfully so, relied on Epel Felmier to sneak into RSA. Vil couldn't trust Rook for such a thing, and Epel certainly had the face for it.

He brought back... well, you.

Neige's best friend since his first day at Royal Sword Academy.

People called you shy, Epel said. You didn't appear on Neige's Magicam, or come with him to movie premiers, your very name utterly untraceable, for that very reason.

Vil had barely withheld a sigh. Of course. He was going to have to charm a shy, dainty, naive, kindhearted little prick.

Typical. As if Neige wasn't bad enough.

But Vil had his mind made, and he was going to be gracious about it, thank you very much.

And so, you "stumbled" across each other at a shop in the town between your two schools. He batted his eyelashes, complimented that hideous RSA uniform, and got your number.

Neige says such nice things about you! That's what you said.

He almost gagged.

But texts became phone calls, which became video calls, which became gifts exchanged between schools, which became little get-togethers on Sage's Island.

Which became... this.

You. Your surprising wit, your refreshing honesty, your sharp tongue. Your time spent together was not only tolerable, but enjoyable, even.

And then Vil realized something quite horrible.

He had a crush. On you. On the friend of his worst enemy.

Now, wooing you to bother Neige was one thing. That was a matter of professional pettiness. But actually stealing you away from him, out of something like true love?

No, too personal. He wouldn't.

And then, one mild night, on a walk, you admit that you enjoy your time with Vil more than with Neige.

And suddenly, everything is different.

Vil begins pursuing you properly, but not subtly. He has flower arrangements fit for a queen sent to your dorm. He remembers every little detail. He lets you vent, whine, truly bitch because he knows that Neige wouldn't. He gets closer.

The worst of it is when you're all together. Poor, sweet you, without a care in the world, walking between Vil and his least favorite person.

Even Neige seems a little uncomfortable. It's delicious.

At first, Vil makes a show of holding your hand, opening doors for you, complimenting your outfit and your eyes and the silly things you say, but it soon becomes less of a petty performance and more of a natural instinct, an urge to be close.

Neige begins to blur into the background.

Heavily, but painlessly, Vil realizes something else.

He doesn't care about Neige Leblanche anymore. What he's feeling is no longer a poisonous jealousy, seeping into his chest and making him bitter.

It's desire. For you.

Neige only happens to be in the way.

[vifilms]

❝ TATTOO ARTIST!ELLIE ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

♱

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, fem!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, switch!reader, switch!ellie, tbh loser!coded ellie, scissoring, ellie being soft and cute and love struck, tattoo artist!ellie, mentions of oral.

RAY RAMBLES ✶ i'm still feeling out writing for ellie, so be nice to me pls, this is the first thing i've posted for her. if not, i won't write for her again jk but seriously dont be mean to me

tattoo artist!ellie who you meet due to her forgetfulness. her black, leathered notebook gets left behind when she meets a friend at a local coffee shop. there’s a business card of a tattoo shop and you decide to take your chances with it and call the number. thankfully, it pans out to be the owner’s notebook. she, ellie, has apparently been tearing apart her apartment trying to find it. her voice floods all over as she whispers thank you just shy of a thousand times, her grateful pleas drip like honey all over you, sweetening you right through your core.

tattoo artist!ellie who is stunned from the first sight of you. the outfit you have on isn’t anything special, out of the ordinary, not it really isn’t but she can’t help the way her eyes wonder over. you have some tattoos which are visible, adding to the draw she feels towards you. soft shoulders are exposed in the strapless top you’re wearing, but your pants are bagging, hanging lowly at your hips, exposing a sliver of your lower stomach to her green, greedy eyes. a new, sultry and velvet, voice speaks her name and ellie knows she’ll do anything and everything to hear it again.

tattoo artist!ellie who gladly walks up to you, accepting the her notebook, desperately attempting not to fixate on the tingle spreading in her heart when she feels your soft finger slightly rub against the tip of her thumb. your sharp, gorgeous eyes look ellie once over before you offer her a smile, blinding ellie to any logical sensibility. do you like her? are you pleased? do you think she’s pretty too? is your heart beating or your fucking chest? are you having trouble breathing like she is?

tattoo artist!ellie who begins to blush profusely as you compliment her tattoos on her exposed bicep with the muscle tank she’s wearing. ellie doesn’t think it’s anything more than you being nice, returning the compliment you gave her, but then you’re touching her. nails painted with black nail polish, shiny but chipped, accentuate the line work. ellie wants to faint. jesse is sitting at the stool on the front counter and lets out a small chirp of a giggle, ellie thinks about punching him in the gut, but it means she would have to walk away from you so she opts out.

tattoo artist!ellie who does something out of the ordinary for her, offers for you to come by next week, saying you’ll tattoo her for a discounted price, something she would never agree to if you weren’t so hot, god if you don’t like her she thinks she’ll puke. but you agree, with your touch still on her slim, but defined bicep. the smirk you’re sporting makes the auburn haired girl nearly faint. evidently, you know just how to pull on her strings. you step in closer to her frame, kissing her sweetly on the cheek and she’s just as soft as you imagined. i’ll definitely take you up on your offer, els. see you next week.

tattoo artist!ellie who is paying close attention as she starts the line work. you came in wanting it down on your back, so ellie focused her attention on preparing the ink when while you situated yourself. by the time ellie had turned around, you were shirtless the side of your breasts exposed as she began. mentally, trying to convince herself she capable of being professional and not thinking about your tits in her mouth. the longer it went on, the more you talked, and the bigger ellie’s crush became.

tattoo artist!ellie who sports a sheepish smile when you start asking her about her life, how she became a tattoo artist, how long she’d be doing it, what were her least favorite designs to do. you ask about twenty question before the one you really want to ask.

“so, no girlfriend?” you wished you could see her, try to gage her reaction, her facial expressions, a smile or a grime? was she looking at you like she wants to eat you alive?

“no, but why not ask me if you have a boyfriend?”

“you’re not the type. am i wrong?”

all ellie does is smirk, shaking her head and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth obnoxiously, yeah she’s not the type.

tattoo artist!ellie who finished but not without difficulty. you love to talk, usually ellie would find it irritating when she’s trying to focus but on you it’s cute. she asks if you want to see it, and you simply agree. you turn your back to the mirror, your chest fully exposed and ellie looks anywhere but or tries to. she focuses on your angel sent smile and the look of glee as you admit how much you love it to ellie. or els, she tries not be too excited about how happy you are about it.

tattoo artist!ellie who isn’t sure how it happened, how you’re even into her, but she says enough of the right things to get you into her car and back to her apartment. you’re pushing her against the door pressed against her sinfully, peppering playful bites as ellie fishes for her keys. you follow her into her home, her tongue pleading for dominance over hers and she really doesn’t put much of fight.

tattoo artist!ellie who moans as you sit your cunt on top of hers. it’s delicious the way you have her putty in your hand from the initial grind. your clit catching with hers, her strong hands finding your hips, thumb with a bruising pressure, as pause. ellie is going to ask what’s wrong but before she can, you’re spitting on her cunt, a string of saliva, your perfectly wet concoction, halts as it travels down her labia and your sinking slick first, moaning out a soft oh, fuck, els you feel perfect.

tattoo artist!ellie who loves to watching your tits bounce for her as you slowly pick up the pace, the tattoo on your sternum perfectly placed between them only fuels the stickiness between ellie’s thighs. she lets you create the pace, control her to your liking.

“do you like to be, uh oh- fuck, choked?” you ask as feel yourself lost it, the smacking of your slick combined with her spurring you on.

ellie grabs your hand, placing your delicate fingers along her delightful throat, “what do you think, babygirl?”

tattoo artist!ellie who is quite literally getting off on getting choked by you. the light pressure on her neck, combined with you rubbing against her pussy hips falling over her again and against has her clit throbbing. you’re so painfully hot it, claiming her, riding her pussy, whimpering out els els els, make me cum, please baby, i’m right there. yeah? are you there with me, baby?

tattoo artist!ellie who comes right along with you. she swears she sees the creator from above for a moment, flashes of white cloud her vision as you continue to fuck her, pulling every last drop until it’s spilling over your cunt, it’s not until then are you satisfied. you collapse on her, your breasts softly smashed against her own, a whine leaving your lips, hot breath on ellie’s ear nearly makes her buck up back into you.

“c’mon, get this pretty ass up and arched. have to taste this pretty pussy before it kills me not to.” ellie whispers but the two of you know it’s not a request, it’s a command. happily, you obey.

[keepthedelta]

thinking about the rosberg family and how a kardashian or dts style documentary about them would be amazing.

you have keke rosberg, a hard racing cigar smoking legend of motorsport from one of it's most dangerous eras, whose name literally means pixie rose mountain. the man who basically invented formula one in finland but was hated by his own media for being too cosmopolitan and when they tried to recognise his achievements refused to let them put his face on a postage stamp because he wouldn't make money off of it. studied to be a dentist but missed the entrance exam and became a racing driver instead. got out of having to take german in school by persuading the master that he would never need it but as soon as he met a hot older german woman went so insane over her that he proposed just months after meeting her and agreed to make it their primary language at home. set a record for the fastest lap in f1 history that lasted until 2004, won his first f1 race and then won a world championship before he won his second. known as a crazy racer who would go through you if you didn't let him past. also the softest dad who loves his baby boy more than anything else.

then there's sina, the coolest person in the rosberg family. was so hot and smart and talented that a man willingly sacrificed his cultural identity to be her husband. professional interpreter who knows a bunch of languages and taught them to her polyglot son. married a f1 world champion but hated his driving so much that she drove herself everywhere, even to events that she attended with him. showed up finland's independence day ball in a suit and bow tie against all dress customs. planned to give birth on her own because it's basically the same thing as going to the dentist, and she doesn't need a man for that. has an f1 champion husband and son and still banned f1 talk in her house for nico's entire career. got so nervous watching her baby race that she vacuumed the entire apartment each time. ditched her husband in dubai so that she could make it to the track to see nico become world champion in person. got drunk and talked about keke's sperm on live television.

nico rosberg, the saddest wettest kitten who ever lived. the most beloved baby in the world. cried at everything as a child. cried when he lost at tennis and when he won. uber competitive. incredibly athletic, competing internationally in karting and tennis. total nerd who had no trouble with his schoolwork despite missing school constantly and got accepted into imperial college london to study engineering. at the time the youngest person to ever drive an f1 car. the biggest single cause of sexuality crises in motorsport since 2006. was once sponsored by the german version of mtv. nicknamed after a teen pop sensation. met the love of his life when he was four and hit her over the head with a bucket while they were making sandcastles. had an incredibly difficult incredibly public divorce from a man he was never legally married to. dropped the mic said thank u, next and is so so happy in his retirement. has stripped down to his underwear on television and done a river clean up in designer coats. boy mom to an orange cat, girl dad to human children. loves his daughters more than anything, the kind of man who will leave a 2 million dollar car on a hill to hitchhike, with his videographer, to his daughters's christmas party. can pinpoint the amount of time lost in a corner exactly and needs everyone to know about it. deeply annoying, absolutely hilarious, incredibly kind.

and of course, vivian. ceo of the rosberg family. still planning the long game revenge on nico for hitting her with a bucket when they were children, born in germany, studied design in milan, can party harder than f1 drivers. has done the interior design for private jets, because apparently that's a thing. owner, creator and namesake of the best rated ice cream shop in the balearics. makes her daughters matching outfits for a taylor swift concert and publicly teases her husband for not being a fan. stages elaborate christmas photos with a different colour theme every year. wore a white dress with turquoise louboutins and chanel bag to match nico's race suit in one of the most iconic and yet deeply underappreciated wag moments in f1 history. ruined them with champagne but didn't care. wants her children to be happy. definitely pegs her husband.

most interesting motorsport family of all time. forget dts, i just want to know about them

[ukeshik]

Jean Kirstein x reader

Just some fluffy headcanons with him

Jean, who tries to seem like a "cool" guy in front of friends, but with you he is the most gentle, softest, romantic and caring person in the world. And others know about it too, but they play along with him.

Jean, who loves hugging you, kissing you, just touching you, but only outside the public. As soon as you find yourself outside the house, in someone's company, his maximum is to put his arm around your waist or shoulders while he is moving somewhere with you or give you a peck on the cheek when he meeting you. What's going on between you and him should stay just between the two of you.

Jean, who is not afraid or shy of his mother when he is with you. He always visits his mother several times a month with you, and tries not to be so embarrassed when his mother shows her love for her son (In addition, she will fatten and hug you too, telling you about what a sweet child her Jeanbo was, and various compromising stories from childhood).

Jean, who loves unexpectedly poke you lightly in the stomach, tickle you or slap your ass to attract your attention to himself when he lacks it (for example, if you work at home, study or are just busy). He really likes it when you grumble under your breath, try to get out of his arms, although you smile and enjoy his touches and eventually give up, allowing him to lie on your lap or hug you from behind.

Jean, who likes to sit with you in the kitchen while you cook, chat with you, or just flip through the music on the phone that he turned on for you. He doesn't cook very well (only his favorite rice omelet, although he always asks you to cook it anyway, because "you make it tastier”), so you do it. But then he's happy to help you with the cleaning, taking the brunt of washing the dishes on himself.

Jean, who eats A LOT. He can sweep everything, just because he's really hungry. As a man in the prime of life, he has a fast metabolism, and it's just that this huge body needs to be supported with a lot of food. Sometimes you complain to his mom that you can't feed this piggy because he sometimes eats everything in the fridge.

Jean, who can be very grumpy in the morning, hates alarm clocks and swears, but as soon as you wake up to the end, go up to him swearing, stand on tiptoe and kiss him on the jaw or cheek, the forces finally awaken in him, and this is your gentle Jeanbo again, who breaks into a smile and is ready to move mountains For you.

Jean, who hates shopping (only if clothes or other things are chosen for him, because the long wait, standing, irritates him terribly), but loves to see you in new outfits and buy them for you, just because he can afford it, and you have a sense of style and You always find good things. So he definitely won't go shopping with you, but he'll be happy to pay for everything you need.

Jean, who sometimes starts just doing push-ups or pull-ups on a horizontal bar that he made for himself, just to jokingly impress you. He starts breathing heavily and puffing on purpose, because he knows that it’s making you laugh at him. Although you really always appreciate how professionally and technically he performs all the exercises.

[leclercsredhelmet]

New in the Paddock ✧ Franco Colapinto

A/N: Hello! Back with another blurb for you all, this time it’s Franco themed because I’m just so happy that one of my f2 faves is on the f1 grid! (I’m still so sad about Logan) anyways here’s New in the Paddock with a Hispanic reader! I hope you all enjoy reading this one <3 This was inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift!

“These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you”

Being back in Italy has you buzzing with happiness, it’s been quite a few years since you’ve been back in the country. Yesterday you’d spent the day sightseeing and doing light shopping in Milan. This is your first big job opportunity fresh out of university and you’re extremely excited for what lies ahead. Once your alarm rang you leapt out of bed and opened the curtains. Music plays from the phone that sits atop the dresser, as you pass by the window you smile at the crowd of Tifosi chanting and you notice Charles signing their things. Smiling, you walk towards your suitcase and take out the outfit you had laid out last night.

Heading to the bathroom you change into a pair of jeans, a white tee, and a white and blue embroidered vest paired with your usual gold jewelry and white sneakers. Applying the last touch-ups to your makeup you grab your brown Longchamp bag and check that all the contents are there before grabbing your passes and the room key from the dresser. Locking the door you head towards the elevator. Looking around the hotel lobby you notice the flurry of staff getting ready to head out. You spot some drivers heading out and want to ask for pictures but you’re nervous and want to remain professional.

Briefly, you catch a glance of Franco Colapinto as he passes by in front of you and he offers a small smile once you lock eyes. Shyly you smile and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Noticing your phone is starting to ring, you pick it up. Your mother’s face greets you on the other line with a proud smile. Smiling you lift the phone to an appropriate angle so she can see your face.

“Hola mi amor, ¿qué tal te va el primer día de trabajo?” she asks and you smile.

(Hi my love, how is your first day of work going?) “Hola ma, muy bien hasta ahora, estoy esperando a mis compañeros para tomar la guagua al circuito” you reply.

(Hi mom, very good so far, I’m waiting for my coworkers to take the car to the circuit)

“Bueno espero que todo te vaya muy bien y voy a estar al pendiente de las redes a ver si te veo entrevistando a alguien!” she beams and you giggle.

(I hope it goes very well and I’ll be tuning into social media to see if you interview someone!)

“Oye y no has visto al chico de Argentina que sustituye a Sargeant? (Oh, have you seen the young man from Argentina that’s substituting Sargeant?)

“Acabo de ver a Franco hace algunos segundos, no hablamos pero me sonrió ,” you reply. (I just saw Franco a few seconds ago, we didn’t talk but he smiled at me)

“Esperemos que te toque entrevistar a Franco, se ve como un chico adorable y se que es de tus favoritos,” she says. (Let’s hope that you get to interview him, he seems like a charming young man and I know he’s one of your favorites)

Smiling you reply, “Eso espero mamá bueno te voy a dejar porque ya vienen los compañeros de trabajo, hablamos luego. Te amo!” you say. (I hope so, mom. I’ll have to leave you because my coworkers are arriving, we’ll talk later. I love you!) “Yo tambien amor, exito hoy!” (I love you too, good luck today!)

Putting your phone away you stand up and introduce yourself to the rest of the crew that hasn’t met you yet. Smiling, they start chatting with you as you walk towards the van that’s already waiting for everyone. Climbing in you take a seat by the window and adjust the passes around your neck, you run your thumb over the black and purple media pass supplied by Formula One and look at your picture and credentials before smiling. “The first day on the job is a little overwhelming but you’ll be fine,” one of your coworkers says. You smile, “Yeah it’s starting to feel like it,” you say with a little chuckle. Everyone smiles, “Lucky for you, we’re not leaving you to your own devices on the first day so the nerves will ease,” someone else reassures.

“It’s more like anxiety but thank you. I just want to be great at the job and have fun. It’s a little hard to believe this is happening and it’s not a dream,” you add with a little chuckle. “It’s pretty surreal but you’re going to enjoy it,” the woman says. “I’m Christine by the way,” she says, outstretching her hand for you to shake. Smiling, you shake it, “Y/N it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve seen you race in Dakar,” you reply. Quickly you fall into conversation with everyone and get to know them. Fans line the sides with merch and excitedly wave to every car that passes, there’s a lot of Tifosi and you smile.

“Are you hoping to meet any specific driver?” Roldán asks you. “Honestly mostly everyone but especially Charles, Lewis, and Franco,” you answer. “You should ask them for a signature or picture once you can, they’ll be happy to do it,” he says and you smile. Once the car parks you gather your things and leave the car. Adjusting your passes you walk with them and greet the workers in Italian.

Deciding to film such an important moment for you, you put an Airpod on and open Tiktok. Filming your feet heading towards the paddock, you pan up, show the entrance, and film the moment you scan your pass and walk in before capturing your reaction. Quickly you save the video and press play on one of your playlists. There’s press so of course some pictures of you are taken and you smile at the cameras. The nerves have eased significantly and now you’re just happy to be here. Picking up your pace you join Christine and Melissa and resume the previous conversation.

The paddock is quite busy but it’s all team staff, drivers, media, and other personnel. Given the news that broke earlier this week about Franco replacing Logan in Williams, everyone wants a shot at interviewing the young driver from Argentina. Making it into the media room you sit next to your coworkers and immediately begin to work. Sipping some water from your bottle you review your notes and wait for the assignments to be handed out. “And this next one is for Y/N, you have Franco in the media pen,” Melissa says. Feeling your cheeks flush, you smile and nod, “My very first interview with and it’s with one of my favorites this is crazy,” you comment and everyone chuckles.

Quickly you start to prepare by jotting down a few questions and getting into the work mode headspace. When it’s time to start heading to the paddock everyone filters out towards the media pen. At the media pen, you get settled with the in-ear monitors and microphone. Christine decides to film the moment which makes you chuckle and wave at the camera. “You got this, you look great” she encourages and you thank her. The drivers start to come out and you ask questions to a few such as Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, and George Russell. You spot Franco approaching you and you discreetly adjust your shirt.

“¡Hola, ¿qué tal Franco?” ”Soy Y/N y estoy con DAZN!” you say in your native language and he smiles. (Hi Franco, how are you? I’m Y/N and I'm with DAZN) “Hola, muy bien ¿y vos?” he replies smiling. (Hi, I’m very good and you?) You smile back, “Todo bien,” you reply. “Es un gusto conocerte, tenés un acento bonito, ¿de donde sos?” he asks. (It’s a pleasure to meet you, you have a pretty accent, where are you from?)

The question makes you blush a little and you chuckle, Franco smiles. “¡Puerto Rico!” you reply. “Ah! Muero por visitar, es un país muy bonito,” he replies. (I'm dying to visit, its' a pretty country)

“Lo es, bueno primero que nada ¿cómo te sientes al debutar en la fórmula uno?” you ask. (It is, first of all, how do you feel about your formula one debut?) “Gracias por la pregunta, estoy en una nube todavía, es una gran oportunidad y estoy muy feliz y emocionado” you smile at him and continue to ask questions. (Thank you for the question, I’m still on a cloud, it’s a great opportunity and I’m very happy and excited)

He’s been a little flirty but you chalk it up to be the Argentinian charm and once the interview ends you thank him again and he chats with you off-camera before going off. Being busy with work makes the day roll by and when it’s time to get some lunch you decide to go off on your own and join everyone else later. Heading out of the media room you walk around and pass the Ferrari motorhome, smiling you decide to take a picture of it and marvel at how amazing and fulfilling it feels to finally see all your hard work pay off.

The years away from home, while you studied to chase your dream, are finally paying off. It happens to be your lucky day because you spot Charles and Lewis walking. Politely you go over to them and ask for pictures and signatures, “You must be new, I haven’t seen you before,” Lewis comments. Smiling you nod, “Actually, I’m fresh out of university!” You beam and they smile kindly. “In that case welcome to the paddock Y/N,” Charles says. “Hopefully we see more of you in the media pen,” Lewis adds and you smile and nod. “Thank you both for the pictures, I can’t wait to see you both in red next year,” you say. Grinning, they bid goodbye to you and you head in search of food.

Spotting a stand making pasta you stand in line and once it’s your turn you order and pay. With your food in one hand and phone in the other you reply to some messages from friends. As you reply to the messages you lose sense of direction and collide against someone’s chest. Your phone, bag, and sadly your food all fall to the ground, and embarrassment floods over you since a few passersby witness the incident.

“Disculpame, no me di cuenta,” a familiar voice says. (Sorry, I wasn't aware) You lock eyes with Franco, “No, discúlpame tú, fue culpa mía. Estaba en el celular y no estaba al pendiente” you apologetically say. (No, I’m sorry, it was my fault. I was using my cellphone and wasn’t aware)

The young driver chuckles and bends down to help you pick up your things. His fingers brush yours as he hands you back your phone, “Escuchás a Taylor Swift?” he asks. (Do you listen to Taylor Swift?)

Smiling you nod, “Si, soy swiftie,” you say. (Yes, I’m a swiftie!)“¡Yo también! ¿Pudiste ir a algún recital?” he asks you. (Me too! Did you manage to go to a concert?)

“¡Si, fui a la última noche de Londres!” you reply. (Yes, I went to the last London show!) ¿Cómo te sentiste sin tener el anuncio de Reputation?” he asks with a laugh. (How did you feel about not getting the Reputation announcement?) Giggling, you adjust your bag, “Me sentí como toda una payasa,” you reply and he laughs. (I felt like a total clown)

Fran walks with you to a nearby bin and you toss the pasta and napkins. “Me siento re mal que perdiste toda tu comida por mi culpa, dejame comprarte otra,” he offers. (I feel so bad that you lost all your food because of me. Let me buy you another one.) “No, está bien no te preocupes,” you reply. (No it’s fine don’t worry)

“Por favor déjame hacerlo, me siento mal que ya en mi primer día acá accidentalmente le he tirado la comida a alguien al suelo,” he says. (Please let me do it, I feel bad that on my first day, I already dropped someone’s food by accident) You giggle, “Ay no te sientas mal, son los nervios del primer día,” you say. (Oh no, don’t feel bad, it’s the first-day jitters)

Franco chuckles in agreement, “Es tu primer día también?” he asks. (Is it your first day too?)“Ajá, me gradué hace unos meses,” you reply. (Mhm, I graduated a few months ago) “Felicitaciones, con más razón tengo que pagarte la comida,” he says and you laugh. (Congratulations, with all the more reason I should pay for your food)

Franco looks over at you and smiles, you smile back and tuck a rogue curl behind your ear. As you stand in line you chat and your stomach flutters every time you catch him looking at you. Both of you order food and he pays for your meals, walking back you’re careful to not drop it or bump into each other again. “Gracias por la comida pero probablemente debo ir a sala de medios,” you say as you start to walk away. (Thanks for the food, but I should probably head towards the media room)

Franco reaches for your hand and stops you, “Quizás esto es muy atrevido pero podés conmigo acá en el motorhome de Williams,” he pauses and looks at you. (Maybe this is a little too bold but you can eat with me at the Williams motorhome)

“Solo si quieres, si no pues esta bien,” he quickly adds. (But only if you want to) You smile at his sweet demeanor and he nods, “Okay, acepto la invitacion Colapinto,” you say and he laughs. (Okay, I accept the invitation Colapinto) “Franco por favor,” he sweetly says. (Franco, please) “Acepto la invitación, Franco,” you add and he laughs. (I accept the invitation, Franco)

Franco leads the way and you go up to the floor in the motorhome reserved for the staff and into his driver's room. “Bueno, almuerzo de primerizos entonces,” he says and you laugh. (Well then this is the lunch of first-timers) “Primerizos que se tropezaron en el paddock,” you joke and he laughs. (First-timers that stumbled upon each other in the paddock) You eat in comfortable silence and after you finish you talk and joke around. He’s made you laugh so much you started to cry and your stomach hurts.

“Me di cuenta de que tenés buen italiano, ¿viviste en Italia?” he asks. (I noticed that you have great Italian, did you live in Italy?) “Solo unos meses, hice un internado en Italia y regresé a España,” you say. (Just for a few months, I did an internship in Italy and returned to Spain) “También lo estudié un poco en secundaria y seguí practicando por mi propia cuenta,” you answer. (I also studied it in high school and kept practicing it)

“¿Cómo es que ambos somos tan parecidos ya?” he comments and you nod in agreement. (How is it that we already have so many similarities?) “Lastima que España es tan grande, si te hubiera conociera antes, habríamos salido o algo,” he adds and you blush. (It’s a shame that it’s so big, if we had met before we would’ve gone out or something) “Quizás hubiese sido una probabilidad,” you say with a little laugh. (Perhaps it could’ve been a probability)

You continue talking and decide to exchange numbers, Franco insists on walking you to the media room. Once you reach it he stops and turns to you, “Fue un placer Y/N, espero no volver a tirarte la comida,” he comments and you laugh. (It was a pleasure Y/N, I hope to not be the cause of you losing your food again)

“Bueno, pero si no pasaba entonces no hubiésemos tenido el almuerzo de primerizos juntos,” you reply attempting your best to flirt back. (But if it hadn’t happened we wouldn’t have eaten lunch together) He smiles, “Tenés razón, esperemos que no sea la última,” he says. (You’re right, let’s hope that it’s not our last time) “Hagamos algo, yo pago el almuerzo en la próxima semana de carrera,” you propose while stretching out your hand. (Let’s do something, I’ll pay for our lunch on the next race week)

Franco shakes it and little jolts run up your body, “Trato hecho, nos vemos pronto Y/N” he says. (It’s a deal, we’ll see each other soon Y/N) Hearing him say your name delicately makes you smile and blush, “Buena suerte mañana, se que vas a demostrar lo bueno que eres en pista,” you say. Franco blushes and gives you a friendly wink and hug before walking away. (Good luck tomorrow, I know you’re gonna prove just how good you are on track)

Blushing, you head inside and greet your coworkers, they notice your blush but don’t ask anything until Melissa points it out. You tell them a little about the encounter and continue to work until it’s time to go.

Once in the hotel room, you call your mom to debrief before showering and after you come out you find a text from Franco and decide to reply. This leads to you two talking for a few hours until you have to call it a night and get some much-needed rest for the hectic weekend that awaits you both.

You were absolutely enchanted to have met him after a slight mishap but it proved to be quite a turnaround.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[exudefashions]

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[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ HALLOWEEN TRADITION

in which one you and reid match your outfits every year for halloween

tw: mention of shoo!ing, dea!h of an animal

contents: spencer reid x fem!reader, they're both obviously in love with each other, time skips

words: 7.5k

a year ago

“Oh, I already ordered. Caramel cappuccino, almond milk, double amount of vanilla syrup and cinnamon sprinkled on top, am I right?

“Your photographic memory is sometimes just terrifying”

“Thank you. By the way, are you still afraid to order this coffee in front of Rossi?”

“Yep. I always take regular macchiato. The last thing I need in work is his judgemental, Italian look…”

Meanwhile, as Reid let out a short laugh, you quickly took in your surroundings: the brick walls and oak tables, the decorative pumpkins by the entrance, and the menu hanging above the barista’s counter, adorned with (artificial) leaves. Just like every corner of this trashy coffee shop was trying to remind you about autumn.

 One thing about you — you were an extreme autumn lover, who unfortunately was allergic to pumpkins, so you couldn’t fit the autumn white girl stereotype completely, by ordering a pumpkin spice latte. And you would rather die than wear a sweater. All of them were scratchy. 

“So” started Reid, hitting a notebook cover with a pen. "I spent all of last evening and more than half of this morning writing down ideas for our Halloween costume this year. I made sure none of them were too similar to our last year's outfits or anything our friends have ever worn to make sure we’ll be the best-dressed people at the party”

“God, Reid, you really took it seriously this year” you raised your eyebrows, shocked and full of admiration at the same time. “And how many ideas did you find?”

“143”

“143?!” you repeated, assuming that he was just joking. Spencer was looking at you with a deadly serious face. “Are fucking crazy? How are we going to choose between 143 ideas? I can’t even choose what socks to wear in the morning…”

“144” he corrected. “When you were saying that I came with another one, Tyler and Marla from Fight Club…”

You had this tendency to forget the names of fictional characters (though, somehow, you could name every American serial killer who ever existed and everyone from your high school class. It was both funny and slightly terrifying that, in two cases, those names overlapped) so it took you a moment to realize who Reid was talking about.

“A guy with a red leather jacket? And this woman who was always smoking?”

“Their names are Tyler Durden and Marla Singer. I don't mean to sound rude, but you made me watch this movie and claimed it was one of your favorites, yet you don’t even remember the main characters' names?"

You shrugged your shoulders. You could say nothing in your defense, that was just the way you were. A subtle smile danced on your lips.

“When I started working with you” you meant the whole BAU “I couldn’t remember all of your names. About two months later I slowly started to recognize them because of how you were addressing each other but because everyone was calling Hotch by his surname I didn’t know his actual name for, like, years…”

Disbelief showed on Spencer’s face but then got replaced with amusement.

“Years?”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me because of my memory problem, mrs. I know the moon signs of everyone around me…”

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“How could I dare, ms. I don’t remember my boss's name even though we’ve been working together for five years…”

“I couldn’t remember it back then! Shame on you, Reid. I shared my secret with you and you immediately started laughing…”

“And what did you want me to do? Make you an appointment with a neurologist?” 

That's what our usual conversation looked like. Like a professional ping pong game. Year after a year, month after a month, day after a day you were just becoming better and better players. 

Waitress came along your table, setting your orders on the table. You always had to smell your coffee first, cinnamon aroma ticked your nose. 

“"Not that it means anything, but my memory problems have worsened since I met you." you said, taking the first sip of a coffee. 

“What do you mean by that?“

“Well, I don’t have the need to remember anything when you remember literally everything that comes your way. You've spoiled me a bit in this regard."

Spencer smiled softly, with a little bit of pride, caused by your words. 

“ Always at your service”  he declared. Suddenly his back went straight, as he probably reminded himself about something. ”Did you call your brother today? It’s his birthday… 

“ No way” you jumped on your seat and immediately started looking for your phone to check what day it was. 14 October. “God, Reid you’re right. I completely forgot…Have I already told you how much I love you? 

You standed up, ready to leave the coffee, declaring that you’ll be back in a moment. People around were having their lunch. The whole place became too noisy for a birthday phone call with your older brother, who lived in a different state. 

“Not today” He replied shortly. 

“So, I’m telling you now, Spence. You’re the best friend I could ever imagine…”

As you were busy with dialing the right phone number and trying to wear your coat at the same time, you couldn’t see how his smile faded after the last sentence. 

a week later

“It cost me like half of my salary” You said, tossing your dark hair back so it wouldn't accidentally catch fire while lighting the candle. A damn expensive candle, as you mentioned. “Another half goes for that little shit”

With a nod, you indicated the ginger cat that had already settled comfortably next to Spencer. He didn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen, checking something with a furrowed brow. With one hand, almost automatically, he gently scratched Mr. Cinnamon Roll behind the ear.

“It’s made only with fully natural ingredients. Vegan friendly. People with migraines friendly. Almost everyone friendly, except of your wallet” You continued your speech, agitated, recalling the guy in the store who refused to sell you a simple, cheap autumn candle, explaining its poor quality, and convinced you to buy the most expensive one he had.

Finally, the wick caught fire.

“So, you’ve got something?“

It was a late evening after work when you both felt exhausted, yet you decided to meet at your apartment to search online for essentials for your Halloween costumes. The idea of going as a couple from Fight Club had won.

You were supposed to be Marla, and he was to be Tyler. You weren’t a couple or anything like that, but for the past five years, it had been your tradition to wear matching outfits for the halloween party organized by your team. Usually, various other friends would join, and having more people allowed for a best costume contest, which you nearly won every year.

“Yeah, but you probably won't like that, considering that you’ve just confessed to spending your entire paycheck”

You set the candle down on the small coffee table in your living room and joined him on the couch, almost crushing Mr. Cinnamon Ball. He didn’t look offended by that — this cat would rather be crushed than leave Spencer’s side. Somehow, he loved him more than the hand that fed him. 

Sitting so close to your friend, your head nearly touched his shoulder, but neither of you minded.You had known each other for four years. You met regularly to watch movies or just to chat, and more than once, you had fallen asleep with your head resting on his arm, that was way more comfortable than any pillow. The rest of your team sometimes joked about your close relationship, but in your opinion, it was only because you were almost the same age! And maybe a bit because you felt the most comfortable in his presence, you understood each other the best, and he made you laugh the most…

For God's sake, why did you start thinking about that at that moment? When you were so close to each other and his gentle scent was slowly enveloping you...

Okay, you’ve thought of him as more than just a friend once or twice. Like that time he stayed over at your place, and you didn’t want him to sleep on the uncomfortable couch, so you shared your bed. You felt so good waking up next to him and regretted that it was just a one-time experience…

You realized he must have said something to you, but you were too lost in thought to hear it.

Instead of repeating himself, Reid pushed the laptop closer to you. On the screen was a website featuring an auction for….the original red leather jacket from Fight Club! You almost screamed. If you had won her over, the victory would have to be yours...

Your enthusiasm faded like a blown-out candle when you saw the final bid amount. 

“What the fuck? That's more than the total of our annual salaries…” 

 "Actually, it’s twenty thousand less than..."

You both fell silent in disappointment. Then, a very silly idea came to your mind.

“Reid” you started slowly. 

“"Oh no, I know this tone. You're either about to say something extremely absurd or something inappropriate, and I don’t know which one scares me more."

 "But listen. We'll wait for the auction to end and for someone to buy that jacket. Then we’ll talk to Garcia and convince her to track down the buyer. We'll go, knock on the door, and when they open it..."

"We’ll politely ask to borrow it?"

"No, sweet boy, we’ll show our badges and say the auction was illegal, and we need to confiscate the jacket."

Spencer burst out laughing.

"Your ideas are brilliant. But how are you going to explain this to Hotch afterward?"

“He won’t find out”

“He find out”

“Okay, you’re right. He’ll probably find out”

A silence full of smiles fell between you.

Spencer closed the auction page and started browsing something else when you let out a laugh at your own thoughts. 

“Okay, I have another idea that won’t cost either of us our jobs,” you said, capturing his attention. He tore his gaze away from the laptop and focused completely on you and your trembling lips, which hinted that you weren’t going to say anything serious “The beginning of the plan sounds the same but instead of showing our badges, you’ll give him a blowjob… “

“Fuck you!” he shouted, unable to stop himself from laughing. At the sight of his expression, a wave of laughter hit you so hard that Mr. Cinnamon Roll jumped off the couch and ran away from his sick owner. “I’m not giving any random guy a blowjob in exchange for a jacket. In exchange for the original diaries of Einstein, well, I wouldn’t say no; I would think about it, but not for a jacket!”

“But it’s the jacket from Fight Club, Spence. Brad Pitt was wearing it” you encouraged him, amused. "Besides, how do you know some guy will buy it? It could be a woman.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes and was ready to continue arguing on the topic, but suddenly it seemed as if he changed his mind. His expression grew more serious.

"Actually, it doesn't change much, but that's not the point. What worries me more is that I've lost my touch. Maybe you'd want to replace me in this? The buyer might not be satisfied."

He said it in a tone as if he were talking about a truly serious, real transaction, which only amused you even more. Also pretending to be serious, you patted him on the shoulder.

“Don't worry, Spence. I'm sure you'll manage just fine.'"

"Really? What makes you think that?"

You considered making a joke, but then you realized what you were talking about while studying him. After a whole day at work, he looked... surprisingly... attractive? With slightly tousled hair and two buttons of his shirt undone…

"‘Nothing,” you replied. For the first time in his presence, you felt slightly embarrassed to continue the topic. Your closeness on the couch didn’t help at all, and you regretted scaring off Mr. Cinnamon.

“No, something makes you think that” 

The tension between you escalated to the point where you weren't sure if he was still joking. You realized that in this silence, every change in your breathing would be audible, so you tried to control it. 

What makes you think that? Spencer just seemed that way. I mean, you often talked about your relationships, and you assumed that his potential partner would lack nothing.

Embarrassed, you wanted to say something when he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jesus, we were talking about blowing somebody for a jacket. Why did you get so scared? 

You hit him on the arm so hard that he let out a groan.

"I didn't get scared! You just suddenly became so weird that I didn't know if you were joking or what” 

"‘Of course I was joking. Why would I ask you that seriously?” he asked, and you noticed that he also carried a hint of embarrassment.

"I have no idea. Maybe you wanted to know my opinion or something” You desperately tried to return to the atmosphere that had existed between you just a moment ago, one that felt more friendly.

Spencer swallowed hard. It was clear he also preferred to drop the topic. 

“I don’t know why you would have any opinion on that, but let’s get back to what we were talking about before you switched into perverted weirdo mode...’"

After his words, you had to hide your face in the sleeve of his shirt, unable to contain your laughter. He seemed surprised by your reaction.

“ What? What did I say this time?” 

“Perverted weirdo” you blurted it out, almost choking on your words.” You called me a perverted weirdo…”

“Well, considering your recent ambiguous comments…”

“I'm going to tell Emily about this. Hey girl, you know how Spencer called me last time? A perverted weirdo…Oh no, I got your shirt dirty with my makeup… “

Spencer looked at the sleeve of his shirt and shrugged, saying, "It's nothing."

"No," you shook your head, trying to rub the stain off his shirt with your fingers, but of course it didn’t work. "I spilled coffee on your pants last time. Take it off; I'll wash it today."

"It's late; you’re not going to deal with washing my shirt right now. Let's get back to looking for our costumes."

You agreed and once again found comfort leaning on his shoulder. He still held the laptop on his lap, and whenever you wanted to type on the keyboard, you had to rest your elbows on his body, on the lower part of his stomach. Why were you even paying attention to that? You shaked your head and leaned over the laptop when you found the perfect shoes for Marla's costume.

In that position, you couldn't see Spencer, but you felt he was almost completely still. After a moment, however, he slowly reached for your hair, gently brushing it with his fingers as if checking its texture.

"We don't need to buy you a wig, right? Your hair will do just fine."

You murmured in agreement as he continued to play with your hair, probably unaware of how much he was distracting you. You had been staring at the picture of the shoes for five minutes and couldn’t remember what you wanted to check. Ah, the size!

"Reid, we have a problem," you said. "They don't have my size. I checked to see if a larger size would be available, since I could stuff them somehow, but the smallest is a 10!"

"Your shoe size is 7; in such large ones, you'll either look ridiculous or kill yourself before even arriving to the party…Do they have to be those specific ones? Maybe you can find some others..."

"They have to be those! They're identical to the ones Helena Bonham Carter wore."

Spencer sighed thoughtfully. His breath tickled the back of your head, which distracted you slightly once again. Anyway, this one time, you came up with a solution faster than his brilliant mind…

You turned your head toward him — after he stroked your hair you were very, very close to each other. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes, filling the area with the scent of cinnamon that had lingered for a while. When your face unexpectedly came just in front of him, he looked at you with a surprise and a gaze that he had never given you before. It was as if he were trying to stop himself from doing something, while at the same time, a voice in his ear incessantly urged him to go ahead.

You looked away to avoid doing something foolish. You could feel warmth on your neck and cheeks. Finally, you remembered what you wanted to ask.

"Spence, what’s your shoe size?"

5 years ago

 It all started when the rest of your team found out about Penelope and Morgan's Halloween tradition. Every year, the two of them held a movie marathon of the scariest films they could find, watching them until sunrise.

 "Why didn’t you invite any of us? I love watching horror movies with friends!" Prentiss exclaimed indignantly.

You were on board a private jet. You had been working with this team for only a few days —  in fact, this was your first trip with them to work in the field.

The prospect of solving the case had you feeling stressed, and you were also wondering if you would find common ground with your team. You lagged slightly behind, pretending to read a book while actually listening to all the conversations around you. You wanted to get to know everyone better. Someone sat down beside you, leaning in to read the title of your book.

 "Rebecca. Have you gotten to the part where it turns out Maxim killed his wife?"

You looked shocked at the second youngest member of the team. You had a serious problem with remembering names, so you only knew his last name. Reid was a tall man with longer hair, dressed in a vest with a shirt peeking out from underneath. Until now, you hadn't formed much of an opinion about him, but that was about to change — he had just spoiled the ending of the book for you.

“No, I haven’t gotten to this part! “

An older man in a black suit chuckled quietly to himself.

"Guys, listen up," said the brunette with bangs, wearing a tight red shirt. "It just came out that Morgan and Penelope have their own secret Halloween tradition."

The woman mentioned was present only on the laptop screen. She was working with you remotely and seemed really nice to you. 

"Sweetheart, we weren't trying to hide anything from you; it just happened that we didn’t mention it..."

"That’s exactly what hiding is," Reid added, giving you an apologetic look for spoiling the book.

"What do you say to all of us getting together this Halloween? The whole team?" asked a muscular man dressed in gray, sitting across from Prentiss with his elbow casually resting on the table. "With a special invitation for you, newbie."

Saying this, he winked at you. You were surprised, but still smiled. Are there better circumstances for getting to know your team than a party? Everyone around you approached this idea. 

a week later

You stared at your phone in fear after just ending the call. JJ said something came up and she wouldn’t be able to make it to the party. You knew her best out of the whole team and had hoped that with her there, you would feel more at ease. Most importantly, you were supposed to wear matching outfits. You realized your breath had quickened slightly. You weren't sure if anyone else besides you planned to dress up. After all, they were mostly older than you —  maybe they weren't into that anymore?

 Back in high school, you were the only one who showed up in costume, and you felt embarrassed the whole evening walking around in a zombie farmer outfit while all the other girls wore mini skirts and beautiful, subtle makeup. You didn’t want to go through that again, but making this costume had taken you a lot of time. Recently, you and JJ had been enchanted by the animated movie Corpse Bride, and you planned to dress up as the title character and her rival, Victoria. Since you loved dressing up for Halloween, you chose the more challenging costume. You bought a cheap white dress that you styled to look more tattered. You applied pale blue makeup and heavily contoured your cheekbones. You even managed to get a veil.

In fifteen minutes, you were supposed to be at Morgan's house. If you removed the makeup, you wouldn’t have time to do anything else. You contemplated what to do. Ultimately, you decided it would be a shame to waste your hard work, and soon you found yourself in the car, heading to the address you were given. As you parked, you felt stress start to take control of you.

You needed to sit in silence for a moment, so you turned off the engine and stared at the empty sidewalk in front of you. Morgan lived in a large house in a quiet neighborhood, where all the homes were spaced far enough apart to host small gatherings without bothering anyone.

Suddenly, someone appeared by the driver's window. You screamed in surprise, your thoughts racing back to all the cases when women were killed in their own cars. 

You quickly realized that it wasn't another UNSUB. That one wouldn’t have screamed alongside you.

“Damn it, Reid, you scared me!”

“You scared me too” he managed to say, placing a hand on his chest. He glanced toward the house. "Weird that Morgan hasn't come out to help yet."

“Maybe the music is too loud and he didn’t hear. There are quite a few cars. Did they invite that many people?” you wondered as you got out of the car. 

Reid glanced at your costume. He wasn’t dressed up at all, just wearing a plain dark gray blazer and a shirt.

"Is that some fashion trend, or are you dressed as a zombie bride?"

“Neither, actually,” you replied, feeling stressed about being the only one in costume. “It’s from the cartoon Corpse Bride.”

“I haven’t seen it,” he admitted as you both headed toward the entrance of the house.

“It’s a great animation,” you recommended. “You should check it out. Although, from what I’ve noticed, you prefer reading more.”

“Not entirely. I like movies too, but I rarely choose cartoons,” he said, ringing the doorbell.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” you replied.

A very short girl you'd never seen before opened the door. She seemed slightly tipsy, confirming your suspicions that people from outside the team had also been invited.

"Oh, you dressed up! How cute!" she said, delighted to see you both, even though she didn’t know you. "Wait, I think I even know who you are. Emily and Victor from Corpse Bride?"

She pointed at the two of you, at your dress and his gray blazer. You exchanged glances, realizing she must have mistaken his usual clothes for a costume.

"No, we’re not…" Reid began to explain.

"Actually, I was supposed to match costumes with JJ…"

But she wasn’t listening. She let you in and shouted through the whole house,

"Look at their matching outfits!"

Everyone gathered around to see you, and you endured the whistles and applause with growing embarrassment.

Penelope appeared right beside you, placing her hands on your shoulders and inspecting your makeup closely. "Oh, sweetheart, you really went all out. This must have taken you ages."

"Which is more than I can say for you," joked Prentiss, holding a beer bottle and pointing it at Reid. "You decided to keep it a secret for a better effect, I assume?"

Reid tried once more to explain that it wasn’t intentional, but you stopped him with a nudge. He looked at you, puzzled.

"Let’s go get a drink," you suggested.

Not waiting for a response, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

"I’m not going to be the only one in costume, so you’re going to stick with me and pretend we planned this all along."

He let out a surprised laugh, thinking you were joking at first.

"Wait, seriously? So… I’m Victor now?"

"Yes, you’re Victor, and you accidentally proposed to me. By the way, I’m dead."

"Okay," he blinked, processing the information. "I definitely need to watch that movie."

You spent almost the entire evening sticking close to each other. Without you by his side, Spencer looked like he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. And without Spencer next to you, you felt a bit awkward.

A few hours later, the two of you were sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking non-alcoholic cocktails and talking about… psychology. Not exactly a party topic, but somehow that’s where your conversation about favorite sodas had ended up.

“Next year, we have to do this again. I mean, plan a costume together. On purpose this time."

Spencer nodded.

"I think I even have an idea."

And that was how your tradition began.

now

He said Halloween is for kids. 

Starting from the beginning, everyone always asks how you met Travis. Well, your story has some potential for a romantic comedy — if only you were a bit more attractive and funnier to make it more watchable on screen. And maybe if there were some breathtaking plot twist. But real life has little in common with a romantic comedy, and you didn’t meet under any crazy circumstances. You only had potential. It happened during your rehabilitation.

Perhaps we need to go back a bit further. Six months ago, Emily passed away, and you weren’t even there for the funeral because, in the rescue attempt to free her from Doyle’s hands, you were shot. Seriously wounded. You spent two weeks in a coma. That might not seem like a long time, but when you woke up, it felt like years had passed. Everyone around you seemed so distant, changed, almost as if you’d suddenly appeared in an entirely different reality.

The following weeks were even more blurred, like rain hitting fiercely against the window with such frequency that the droplets slowly merged into a single cohesive stream. You weren't accepting visitors while in the hospital; something was wrong with you. Perhaps it was due to the grief and shock from Emily's passing, along with the trauma. You didn't want to return to that job; you were too afraid of the risks. Of dying yourself or losing someone from your team and having to relive it all over again. Fortunately, you quickly received an offer for a transfer. An office job, terribly boring, but there was something in that monotony that filled you with a sense of safety. You hated it, but you were afraid to engage in anything else.

Before you took the job, you had to go through rehabilitation. It was led by Travis, eleven years older than you, which stunned your older brother when you introduced them. “You’re dating a guy older than me?” he asked, shocked. They didn’t hit it off, but you didn’t worry too much about that. Everything in your life had changed, and being in a relationship with an older, more mature guy made you feel more stable. And since so many things had changed, why not go all in? You moved in with him. Just as you were starting to climb out of the pit, another tragedy struck. Mr. Cinnamon Roll was diagnosed with stomach cancer and passed away despite treatment.

Since that moment, you almost stopped talking to your old team. You still loved them — they were like family to you, but whenever faced with life's struggles, you felt that burning need for isolation. On the day Mr. Cinnamon Roll died, you received a message from Spencer, asking how you were doing and suggesting a meeting. You stared at your phone for hours, and ultimately replied to him only the next morning with a brief, "Sorry, I didn't notice you wrote." He responded just as briefly. He was also suffering due to the circumstances and probably didn't have the energy to chase after his friend who openly refused to give him any attention.

You pushed him away because you weren’t ready to confront what you were feeling. Something had happened between you during that Halloween party, shortly before Emily's death. After that, you acted as if nothing had occurred, but both of you knew that you needed to talk about what to do with your relationship. But before you had the chance, there was Doyle, your accident, then Travis, and it seemed that everything that had ever been between you was lost. A new agent, Ashley, joined the BAU. You knew her —  you were around the same age, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering if something might blossom between her and Reid.

You thought that if you accepted the loss of your previous life, it would be easier to move on. It was the opposite. Day by day, you felt more and more depressed, empty inside. This morning, you went into a café to buy coffee. While waiting for your order, you looked at the tiny pumpkins on the counter and realized it was Halloween—the holiday you used to love so much. This moved you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of life within you. You felt like you wanted to do something. Dress up as a character from a cheap horror movie, have a few drinks. Maybe even go trick-or-treating, hiding behind a mask like kids do. You did that with Spencer two years ago, but no one wanted to give that tall guy any candy.

You shared this idea with Travis.

And he said that Halloween is for kids. 

a year ago

“How the fuck I’m suppose to walk in these….”

As soon as you saw him in a black dress that reached mid-thigh (it should have been longer, but you bought it when you still assumed you would be the one wearing it), a short fur coat of the same color, and sunglasses, you nearly choked on your laughter. And when he added black heeled ankle boots and started cursing their practicality, you fell onto the couch, unable to stand on your legs any longer.

Mr. Cinnamon Roll watched his antics with curiosity.

“Run away, little one,” Spencer advised him. “Those heels are so sharp I might accidentally kill you.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I wear shoes with higher heels every day.”

“Your spine will thank you for it in ten years.”

“Alright, mom.”

The deadly shoes landed on the floor. You were planning to leave in an hour and a half, once you finished perfecting your costumes. Until then, Spencer had no intention of risking his life by parading around in them. He lay down on the couch next to you, the dress ungracefully riding up.

“Now it’s your turn to change,” he said, pointing to the Tyler Durden costume lying on the table. “And mine to laugh.”

“First, I wanted to do makeup.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Are you kidding? What kind of Marla Singer would it be without a bold smokey eye?”

“Fine by you,” he muttered, looking at the watch on his wrist. “One hour and thirty-three minutes. Will we make it?”

“Relax. Remember, for a better impression, we need to be a little late.”

You disappeared for a moment into your bathroom, only to return with a makeup bag in hand. You had bought a new eyeshadow palette specifically for this occasion. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at your friend, wondering in which position you would be most comfortable working on him.

“Okay, lean against the couch,” you instructed, feeling like a professional makeup artist. “And don’t look at me like I’m a mad scientist trying to perform some dangerous operation on you.”

“From my perspective, that’s exactly what it looks like. A mad scientist and a dangerous operation. Just don’t accidentally poke me in the eye.”

“God, Reid, I’m not going to do this with a knife…”

You stood in front of the couch, facing him. Following your instruction, he rested his head, but as soon as you tried to apply the first product on his eyelid, you felt that you weren’t doing it precisely. You sighed.

“It’s uncomfortable for me to work this way. I have a better idea. Lie down.”

Reid looked at you with raised eyebrows but obediently lay down on the couch. You sat on a free spot next to him, leaning over his face. You were glad he closed his eyes. It would be awkward to be this close and still have to endure his sharp gaze. Your hair brushed against his neck. A gentle smile appeared on his face as soon as the brush touched his skin.

“This is quite nice,” he said.

You didn’t respond, focused on turning him into a doppelgänger for Marla Singer. You would sooner die of embarrassment than admit it out loud, but you deliberately prolonged the entire process. You felt as if you were working on a painting. Additionally, you enjoyed the awareness of having him beneath you, so defenseless and completely unaware, that you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

You would simply press your lips together to see what would happen. There was a possibility he would push you away, but even considering that, you were ready to do it. You didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. They had completely dominated your mind, and you were just observing them from the sidelines, wondering where they came from. Throughout your years of friendship, you had never experienced them. Or rather, you had experienced them so rarely that you didn’t consider them significant. After all, everyone sometimes feels like kissing their friend. The problem was that for quite some time, the only thing you had been thinking about was his lips on yours.

Spencer opened one eye. You felt as if he had caught you doing something wrong.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.

You brushed aside the one strand of his hair that had strayed onto his forehead.

“About one of my friends.”

“You look worried. Can I ask why thinking about this person makes you feel that way?”

You let out a quiet laugh. You wondered if he knew you were talking about him. He should have.

“I doubt you want to hear about it,” you replied evasively. However, after a moment, you broke down and added something more. “Do you ever feel like you want to do something stupid so badly that you feel like you're physically shaking, even though you know it’s wrong?”

He frowned slightly. You accidentally applied too much eyeshadow, licking the tip of your finger to wipe away the excess product from his skin.

“Can you give a specific example of such behavior?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Kissing a friend, for example.”

He smiled gently.

“Well, in that case, yes. All the time.”

You exhaled through your nose, feeling a painful tightness in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening to you.

“Done,” you said, abruptly rising from the couch. “I need to change. We don’t have much time.”

“There’s still an hour and eighteen…”

You grabbed your costume from the table and hid in the bathroom, not hearing the end of his sentence.

one hour and eighteen minutes later

Usually, nighttime drives had a calming effect on you, but this time it was completely the opposite. You were in a small space with Spencer, with whom you had just had… let’s call it a complicated conversation. You felt every part of your body tense.

You hated yourself. You hated that you didn’t understand what you were feeling. You hated that you didn’t know what you wanted. You felt like banging your head against the steering wheel. Maybe the sound of the horn would bring you back to your senses.

Reid just stayed silent, inscrutable.

“I’m afraid we’ll be right on time,” he said after clearing his throat. “And you wanted to be a little late.”

“So what should I do now, drive around the city for the next ten minutes?” you asked, slightly irritably.

He shrugged stiffly.

“Or stop and wait. It’s a much more environmentally friendly option.”

In the end, you pulled up outside Morgan’s house, where the annual Halloween party was set to take place for the fifth year in a row. You sighed with nostalgia and turned off the engine. You might have been in the middle of an emotional crisis, but you still intended to win that contest. And that meant waiting out those ten minutes.

You adjusted the sleeves of your red leather jacket.

“Remember when we dressed up as Harry and Voldemort?” you asked suddenly. That had been your first intentional costume pairing.

Spencer let out a short laugh.

“For the next two days, I couldn’t wash off all that white paint,” he muttered, reaching into the black purse you had lent him. Spencer had been outraged that mini dresses had no pockets, leaving him with nowhere to keep his things. You frowned when you noticed he had taken out his wallet. From it, he pulled out a photo taken on that memorable day, showing the two of you standing in front of the fireplace at Morgan’s cabin. You had your arms around each other, Voldemort and Harry Potter.

“You carry our photo in your wallet?” you asked, touched, admiring the picture with delight.

Slightly embarrassed, he nodded.

“And not just ours,” he reached into his wallet again, this time pulling out a photo of Mr. Cinnamon Roll curled up on your lap. You leaned closer to Spencer to get a better look, almost forgetting about your earlier conversation.

You extended your hand, but instead of taking the photo, you just grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tightly and briefly kissed the back of it.

“It’s been ten minutes,” he announced, letting go of your hand. “We can go inside now…”

He trailed off as you suddenly grabbed a piece of his fur and pulled him as close as possible. You felt as if someone stronger had taken control of your body and finally did what you had wanted to do for a long time. You were kissing him.

At first, he froze as if spellbound, completely surrendering to the pressure of your lips. You pulled back a little, unsure if you should continue.

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

He laughed right into your mouth and resumed the kiss in a hungry way.

“I wanted to do it earlier,” you admitted after a moment. His eyes were shining, and yours probably were too. “When I was putting on your makeup. You had your eyes closed, and it was all I could think about.”

His hand rested on your neck, his thumb gently drawing circles on your sensitive skin. You had your arms around his neck, entwined like strands of hair in a braid.

“Good thing you didn’t,” he said. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I’d venture to guess we wouldn’t have even made it to this party.”

“Don’t get too bold with your assumptions. I wouldn’t let such good costumes go to waste…”

He kissed you one more time, pulling you close by the chin. Okay, he was right. If you’d done this earlier, you’d probably still be at your apartment, entirely wrapped up in each other. In fact, you’d lost all interest in going to that part

You spent a good few minutes smiling at each other, foreheads touching. You felt the need to talk to him — to make sure this wasn’t just a release of the tension that had been building between you recently, but something more. Before you knew it, though, you were walking arm-in-arm toward Morgan’s house.

“This year, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he commented as he finally came out of his shock at seeing Spencer in heels. He, too, was in costume. For the past four years, it was almost impossible to find anyone there without one. You could say you were the ones who started the trend.

Without letting go of his hand, you encouraged him to spin around in a circle. All evening, you wondered if people noticed that something had changed between you or if they just assumed it was all part of the act. His hand almost never leaving your waist, your conversations with faces close together, the prolonged disappearance in the bathroom under the pretense of fixing his makeup.

“Have you thought about what we’ll dress up as next year?” he asked, pinning you against the upstairs wall, his hand slipped under the fabric of your loose shirt.

You looked into his eyes thoughtfully.

“I liked the idea of Mia and Vincent from Pulp Fiction.”

“Mia and Vincent. White shirts and fake blood. Don’t you think it’s a bit too simple? We should raise the bar each year.”

You rolled your eyes.

“So, what is your suggestion?”

now

 You lay in bed next to the sleeping Travis, staring at his bare back.

Every day, he started with a run around six in the morning, so he didn’t let you drag him anywhere in the evening, despite it being Friday. You tried to fall asleep, but you knew it was useless. You’d always been a night owl. Besides, it was Halloween—your favorite holiday, and for the first time in years, you were spending it with your head on the pillow at 10 p.m.

You sighed and quietly, so as not to wake him, went to the living room to watch some show on TV and maybe have some ice cream. Sitting on the couch, you constantly felt the urge to reach out and pet Mr. Cinnamon Roll, who used to keep watch by your side. Each time, it ended with you touching the cold leather of the couch instead. You buried your face in your hands, stretching the skin on your cheeks.

You couldn’t live in this emptiness any longer.

It happened so suddenly. One moment, you were curled up on the couch, and the next, you were slipping back into the bedroom to grab one of Travis’s plain white shirts from the closet. Just regular black jeans. The only thing missing was fake blood, but you decided you’d just be a more polite version of Mia.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest as you drove. Doubts crept in, and the absurdity of your behavior caught up with you. It was highly likely that your previous team had stopped organizing those events due to circumstances. And even if they were still happening, why would you feel invited? You had limited your contact with them, almost cutting it off in recent months.

Your breath was painful as you pressed your hand against your side, where a scar from a gunshot wound marked your skin. The red light of the traffic signal turned into the flashing lights of an ambulance. You were inside, bleeding, the whole world blurring around you.

You tried to calm yourself so as not to accidentally cause an accident. However, that tragic feeling didn’t leave you even when you found yourself there again. For the fifth year in a row, on Halloween night, at Morgan’s doorstep.

Derek opened the door for you, wearing a plain t-shirt. No music was coming from inside, and no cars were gathering around. He blinked in surprise at the sight of you.

You greeted him sadly, ready to throw out some excuse, though none came to mind. You had shown up unannounced, unwelcome, when he was probably spending the evening at home working or resting. A flush of embarrassment covered your cheeks.

Before either of you could say anything more, Penelope appeared behind him. She wore a headband adorned with little pumpkin decorations.

“Morgan, we have a serious problem with picking a movie because Hotch…”

She stopped, stunned by your presence. But a moment later, she shouted your name and swept you into her embrace.

“Oh, why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming!”

Over her shoulder, you could see Derek’s gentle smile.

“We went back to basics, and instead of throwing a party, we’re just watching movies,” he explained, eyeing you closely. “But costumes are always welcome. You’re not even the only one who thought to dress up.”

Both of them pulled you into the living room, where the rest of the team was arguing about which movie to watch. As all eyes turned to you, you felt like someone had forcefully shoved you onto a stage and blinded you with a spotlight aimed directly at you. Lost, you didn’t know what to say.

Then your gaze landed on that one person sitting alone in an armchair. Dressed in an identical white shirt and a black blazer draped over the arm of the chair.

You managed to smile at your Vincent.

[dreamingonclds]

Unintentional | FA14

Summary: Y/n and Fernando Alonso were both professionals, both only seemingly having time for their careers. They both have had their fair share of relationships but they’ve never become serious for either of them. Y/n is an A-list celebrity, a highly respected actress and Fernando a champion athlete, a Formula One driver. Nobody could’ve ever imagined both of their paths to cross but, they do. It was said that their relationship was destined to fail, their 16 year age gap being too large to be sustained. But, to everyone's surprise, a blessing they created without intention was just enough to fill that gap, like fate.

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Word Count: 2,722

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

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As you meticulously applied your lipstick, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the thought of who you would meet tonight. Your stomach bubbled with nerves, a sensation you always got with meeting new people; despite how long you had been in the industry for. You met new people almost weekly, nothing new in the entertainment industry. You were used to meeting wealthy business people and pretending to care about anything that came out of their mouths. But you were genuine about meeting new directors, writers, and filmmakers; you genuinely cared about what they had to say.

Tonight was no different, you had been invited to a dinner by some friends. It just so happened that those friends were in the industry too and it just so happened that the dinner would be in Beverly Hills. So, you knew that tonight would be a night of pretending to care because the people who actually cared for the artistry of entertainment would never choose to dine in Beverly Hills. And you were a professional, so you sucked it up, put a smile on your face, and decided to have a good night.

So, you decided that to have a good night you had to have a good outfit. You were a public figure, a very popular one at that, so you did have to dress to impress. And you didn’t mind, you loved fashion and you loved to shop so it all worked out. You also cared about your appearance and wanted people to like you, but not for how you looked. You wanted people to like you for the person you were and what you brought to the table. And unfortunately, that goes hand in hand with physicality in this world. So you slip on a back silk dress because those always do the job.

Arriving at the restaurant, you thank your chauffeur as he helps you out of the car and guides you to the entrance. Stepping into the restaurant you’re immediately greeted by your friends and introduced to all the unfamiliar faces. Soon enough you're all making your way through the restaurant, several diners turning their heads to you all, some trying to sneakily snap pictures which you notice every time. Once you're seated at the ridiculously large table, you notice the empty seat beside you and around the table.

“People missing?” you ask your friend sitting right across from you.

“Yeah, they’re running a little late but they should be here very soon.” she answers, giving you a small smile.

After a little conversation, you all turn your heads to the chatter that is seemingly making its way towards you all. Sure enough, it’s the missing half of your party and as you scan your eyes through all of them, one catches your eye.

“Here they are!” your friend announces, standing up to greet them and everyone follows.

In the midst of the commotion, bodies moving left to right you hear your friend declare seating arrangements.

“Fernando, why don’t you sit next to Y/N, she speaks Spanish too.” she says pointing you out so he knows who you are.

You see a man nod and begin to approach, you notice the brunette with semi-shaggy hair and a short beard. Sure enough, it’s the one who caught your eye earlier on. He greets you with a kiss on both cheeks that you reciprocate and helps you into your seat.

“What a gentleman, thanks. Fernando, right?” you look towards him, wanting to start a conversation like the rest of the table is doing

“Of course, Y/n?” he nods in response and you do the same, noticing his accent. As you make eye contact, you begin to note the faint lines around his eyes and the maturity of his face. Your mind begins to wonder, whether he’ll take you seriously noticing the lack of physical maturity on your 26-year-old face. Usually, men over 5 years older than you never took you seriously, their conversations always started professional but quickly turned to comments about your body and sexual experience.

Before either of you could get another word in, the waiter begins to ask for your drinks of choice. Usually, you would go for a beverage that would liven you up but, you had a rule that you only drank at dinner when everybody at the table were your friends. So, you asked for the next best thing.

“I’ll take a coke please.” you tell the waiter, who quickly jots it down and looks to Fernando next

“Uh, I’ll take the same please” Fernando turns to look at you with a confused look

“Oh, I don’t know everybody at this table so, I’d like to get to know you with a sober mind.” you tell him matter of factly, hoping that was the explanation he was looking for. Although it was the truth, you did want to get to know the rest of the table; but specifically him. In what seemed like record time, the waiter comes back setting down all of your drinks.

“Igualmente” Likewise he nods towards the brown beverage in front of him.

“I thought maybe you were still too young to drink, you look young, why do you want to get to know me?” he asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

“I’m 26, not that young. And you're sitting right beside me, we have a long night ahead. Why not get to know you; your friends.” you add the last part in, trying to deflect and hide your interest in him; hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“Why’d you copy me, I mean no offense but, you don’t look like you just turned 21?” he brought up your age first, two can play at that game.

He chuckles, still looking at you.

“I’m 42, not that young either.” he says in truth. And before you can respond he speaks again.

“Pretty girl, pretty dress.” he brings his glass to his lips, looking away nonchalantly.

“And you’re sitting right beside me.” he states matter of factly, using your own words against you.

Your jaw drops the slightest and your eyebrows scrunch in surprise. His confidence, so abrupt it takes you a few seconds to bring your face back to its natural resting place. Despite your efforts to look cool and unaffected, you can see the pride your reaction gives him. With a teaseful look in his eye, he offers you a smirky smile that makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. Your cheeks and ears go hot, and you now find it hard to sit still or contain the smile pulling at your lips.

The rest of the night goes exactly as expected, the two of you deep in conversation and completely ignoring the rest of the table. There’s a tension that's rising that even the others can feel. Neither of you even realize how many times they’ve teased you two or tried to get you to join their conversation. You’ve also failed to notice the pointed phones from other diners and sneaky restaurant workers.

As you all are ending your dinner, restaurant patrons and workers start making their way to your table. Asking for pictures and autographs from you and your party alike, both separately and together. Little did you know that those images would lead to a whirlwind of speculation, the world seemed to spiral at the thought of you together.

Your group converses outside the restaurant for a few minutes, a back and forth of what the plans for the rest of the night were. You stood there to yourself contemplating whether you wanted to continue your night. You had a fitting in the morning and a couple of online meetings you had to prepare for. Considering it was nearing 1 am, you decided to head home with a professional attitude to your day ahead.

Before you can interrupt the group to bid your goodbye, Fernando makes his way to your side.

“Are you going out for more drinks too?” he turns to you.

“I have meetings in the morning, I think I’m just gonna head home.” you nod your head.

“Me too actually, I drove here by myself. Let me take you home.” he points at himself.

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually; thank you.” 

You both take a few steps forward towards the group, ready to bid your farewells together. But before either of you can mutter a word, your friend's chatter amplifies into a passionate discussion about who knows what. Fernando turns to look at you, an amused smile on his lips that turns into a chuckle after noticing your surprised expression.

“Mejor nos esperamos.” We better wait, he jokes, and you giggle looking towards him, only to realize his eyes were already set on you.

“Buena idea” Good idea,  you say with a smile, continuing the playful vibe of the setting. You two carry on with your light-hearted conversation. Unconsciously backing away from the group until your back hits the restaurant's ornate rail. Fernando holding on to the rail on your right side, halfway caging you in, seemingly protecting you from passersby giving you questioning glances; realizing who you were.

Your conversation continues and you two get lost in getting to know each other. You learn that he’s a champion F1 driver and he learns the movies he’s seen you in, not knowing it was you. Before he can finish saying where his next race will be, you're drawn out of your heart to heart by shouts from your group.

“Hey lovebirds, you guys coming?” your friend shouts pointing down the street, implying a prolonged night out.

A sheepish smile forms on your lips and you shake your head, “We both have busy mornings tomorrow. We’re gonna skip this one!”

“Alright then, don’t have too much fun!” someone teases, causing the rest of the group to laugh.

Fernando smiles and shakes his head at the joke, “I’m just going to take her home!”

You all exchange thank you’s and appreciation for dinner before saying your goodbyes. Then begin to make your way down your respective sides of the street. He leads you to his car, not in front of you but by walking closely behind you, guiding you with a light touch to your back. He helps you in, chivalrously, taking your bag from you, opening the door, and taking your hand to help you in. You take notice of what car he drove, a luxurious sports car, that to you matched the reputation of an F1 champion. You questioned yourself on if you wanted him to live up to the reputation of a man like him.

Before he can drive off, he makes sure you’re both buckled in and asks for your address. You give it to him and then you're off to your luxurious hotel, which the movie you were in Beverly Hills for set you up with. You two continue your conversation the whole time, only stopping when Fernando gets out of the car first to open your door. He walks you to your room, as he insists on “dropping you off”. But really, you’re more than happy to oblige to his request as you didn’t want the night to end.

“No paps.” Fernando blurts randomly, as you both make your way through the lobby.

You scan the room and realize he was right, you only saw the employees and the occasional normal guest.

“Oh yeah” you acknowledge, normally every hotel in Beverly Hills was swamped with paparazzi no matter the time. So you worked it up to luck, you two got lucky tonight. Little did you know that this would foreshadow the rest of your relationship.

You make it to your room and unlock the door, stepping into the doorframe and turning to face Fernando. You two stand there for a few seconds, just staring at each other, Fernando's hands in his pants pockets and your hand on the door, an undeniable tension lingers between you two.

“Do you want to come in?” you suggest hesitantly, pointing inside, ready to face rejection.

“Uh yeah, can I?” he answers quickly, surprising you and catching you off guard. 

“Come on in.” you say, widening the door and stepping back, letting him inside. He makes his way towards the living room area of your massive hotel room and you follow him. Before you can sit down on the couch beside him, you notice the complimentary bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, now sitting in water that was ice a few hours ago. You go to the table and pull out the bottle from the bucket, wrapping it in a towel to prevent it from dripping.

“Quieres?” Do you want some? You offer him, showing him the bottle.

“Por favor” Please He stands up and heads towards you, taking the bottle from your hands to open it himself. You hold up the two glasses, also on the table, for him to pour into. After pouring, he sets the bottle down and you hand him his glass.

“Gracias” Thank you You both say at the same time, which causes you both to giggle.

“Let's go to the balcony” you suggest and head outside, he follows you but, not before grabbing the bottle to take with.

You lean on the rail, one forearm resting on it while your other arm brings the glass to your lips. Fernando places the bottle on the small table conveniently outside and then he goes to stand in front of you. He halfway cages you in again, one arm holding the rail close to your side, and you notice this protective pattern of his. Both of you stand there, not saying anything with words but instead through the looks you’re giving each other.

“You are very beautiful.” he blurts out, scanning your face with a pensive expression on his face.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion for a quick second before smiling and meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, you are very beautiful too.” you respond in honesty and nod your head when he looks at you confused. A shy smile breaks onto his face and he looks at the ground stepping away from you. 

He looks back up, licking his lips ever so slightly and takes the glass from your hand. He goes to place yours and his glass on the table while you stand there confused. He comes back to his original spot in front of you but this time way closer than before. His hand comes up to cup the side of your face and your eyes look deep into his as his thumb caresses your cheek. You go to say something but are cut off by his lips pressed against yours. You quickly catch on and move your lips with his. His hand comes off of your face and moves to your waist, you step away from the rail to try and get closer to him. He wraps both of his arms low around your waist and his fingers dance right above your bum. You instinctively bring your arms up to wrap around his neck and your fingers go to dance in his hair at the nape of his neck.

He smoothly turns you both around so now he is against the railing. Your makeout continues for a short minute until you realize something and your eyes open.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” you say exasperated, pulling away and trying to catch your breath. He leans back trying to get a look at you, breathing heavily, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“But I’ll make an exception tonight.” you say quickly, he smiles before you lean in and desperately attack his lips again. He grabs your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and walks inside towards the bed. He gently lays you down and stands back up separating your lips, he swiftly removes his shirt before hungrily coming back down on top of you.

The rest of the night goes as expected and contrary to your usual experience with men, he stays the night. You both sleep comfortably in each other's arms, not even wondering how it all led to this moment. Although you were both trying to figure out why this all felt so natural, you both knew one thing, this was the start of something special.

Taglist:

@minkyungseokie

@ursforever129

@thatchickwiththecamera