#and something about that just coming across to others is getting to me

[yanderedrabbles]

Speaking of the yandere outlaws, how would “the boy” behave when he finally earned the right to have the girl fully? Maybe after he catches her trying to escape and brings her back like you said.

Yandere Outlaws- The Boy/Betrayal

The boy exists in this in-between sort of space where I think he can be easily influenced.

He realises just as well as the others that holding you hostage is an awful, terrible thing. He recognises that you don't want this. And I think he's the only one who's truly guilty about it.

The gunslingers shrug it off. They wanted you, so they took you. Easy as that. The boss has done much worse in his life. What difference does one missing girl make? Even the wrangler and the second in command go against their better instincts with only a flicker of guilt.

The boy though? There's still a little innocence in him. A sense of justice stronger than the others. The question is - can he hold onto it?

I see the two of you getting along at first, maybe even getting friendly. You pity him - he's a victim too, a kid who got roped into something much bigger than he could handle.

He's the one who brings you most of your meals. Head down, sneaking glances at you from under his hair. He doesn't talk much at first, doesn't even stick around to watch you eat. Just leaves the plate on your vanity and hurries out of the room.

Maybe one day it gets too much for you. Maybe one day you ask him to stay.

He freezes, hand already on the doorknob.

"You want me to stay? Why?"

You shrug, not sure how to articulate it. Not sure if you want to address the ugly truth that both of you feel hovering. Eventually, "I guess I just want someone to talk to."

"Oh."

Maybe he comes a little closer, sits on the edge of your bed. Still not looking at you.

You push the food around on your plate.

"This is good. Who made it?"

"Oh, umm, I did."

"You're the one who does the cooking?"

"Mm-hmm. The others are too busy with work I guess. And you don't want them to cook for you."

"Why's that?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Their cooking is awful."

And that's how it goes. Snippets of conversation really. A few moments stolen between wrangling horses and learning to shoot straight. A few moments where he sits on the edge of your bed and you both pretend that your thighs aren't bruised with fingerprints.

Maybe you come to trust him. Maybe you think that just because he doesn't look at you like the other outlaws, that he doesn't want what they want.

A mistake. But you're too naive to realise it.

I think things finally change on one of those icy, stormy nights. Most of the outlaws are out on a job, and it's just the boy, the boss and you.

It's a cold night, devil cold, the rain sheeting down so hard you can barely hear anything over it.

Maybe one of the outlaws leaves your door unlocked or maybe you manage to climb out the window, rain soaking straight through your chemise. Either way, you make it to the stables without anyone seeing you.

You're shivering, your chemise clinging to your waist and practically see-through from the water. But you don't care. This is the closest you've come to escape and you aren't going to let the chance slip by.

There are only two horses in the stable. The boss's mean old mustang, and the boy's chestnut colt. Between the two of them, it's hardly a choice. You've got the bridle on the boy's horse and you're just about to reach for the saddle when someone grabs you.

They yank you backwards, startling out a short scream. Your back thuds against the wall and a hand slaps across your mouth.

"Shhh," the boy hisses, "The boss will hear you."

He's warmer than you and still dry.

"You're running away."

You nod hesitantly, his hand still pressed against your mouth. His face is blank. You can't read anything in his eyes.

"You're cold. You aren't dressed for the weather. You'll die of exposure before you make it home."

You shake your head. Anything is better than being a stress doll for a bunch of outlaws, how can't he see that?

He stays like that for a long while, his hand on your mouth keeping you pinned against the wall. The lantern light makes his eyes seem darker - the pupils wide, black as oil.

He sighs, and you realise he's made the decision for you. You're not escaping tonight.

"I know you hate it here, but you'll die if you try and ride out tonight."

He doesn't give you time to reply. Just grabs your wrist and drags you out and across the yard. You plead with him. Beg. Say that anything in the world is better than this.

But the rain is coming down heavy and he doesn't hear you. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

The kitchen door slams open and he pulls you in, both of you soaking wet. You might have said more, tried to reason with him again.

But the boss is waiting for you.

Standing in the half-dark between the kitchen and the hall, his revolver gleaming dully.

"Thought you mighta done something reeaall stupid, boy."

His voice is low, rough around the edges. A wolf learning to speak.

The boy is just as frozen as you are. It takes a few false starts before he can spit the words out.

"No, sir."

"You caught our filly right before she slipped the lasso I see."

"Yes, sir."

The boss moves toward you then, the light finally showing his eyes. That cool blue about as bright and dangerous as lightning.

He grabs your jaw, hard. Pulls you up on your toes so your lips almost brush his.

"Awful big storm for such a little girl."

The boy is still holding your wrist and looking at the floor, his hair blocking his face. He doesn't intervene.

"You coulda broken your neck, tryin' to ride in weather like this."

The boss leans closer, warm lips brushing your cheek. His voice is low enough for just you to hear.

"I'd be real heartbroken to lose you darlin'. You ain't gonna put an old man through such pain, are you?"

His grip tightens on your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. You know instinctively that the next time he comes to visit your room, he isn't going to be quite so nice. He isn't going to keep holding himself back.

"No, sir." Your voice is less than a whisper.

"Good."

He pulls back and smiles at you. Pats your cheek with small, rough smacks. He calls back to the kid, never looking away from you.

"Our girl is chilled straight through, boy. Why don't you warm her up?"

The boy is tense. You can feel it in the way he holds you, can see it in the set of his shoulders.

"Yes, sir."

He starts walking again, pulling you along behind him.

You wait until you're out of earshot, about halfway up the stairs. You say the boy's name, and maybe he hears some of the fear in your voice because he stops. One hand on the bannister and one still around your wrist.

"The boss is going to -"

"You shouldn't have tried running then."

His voice is harder than you've ever heard it.

"You're...you're my only real friend," he continues. "The only person I can really talk to. Some of the others aren't so bad, but they still think of me as just a kid."

His grip tightens on your wrist.

"You were going to leave without even saying goodbye to me."

He starts walking again, dragging you behind him. The door to your room is ajar, and all you can see is a crack of darkness, broken by the occasional flash of lightning.

"The gunslingers were right," he says, half to himself. "If you want something, you should take it."

Your heart stutters. What does he mean by that?

He stops in front of your bedroom, one hand on the doorknob. He turns to you and you finally get to see his face. His hair is dripping water down his temples and between his brows, making him look as bristly as a coyote.

There's something different about his eyes, about the way he looks at you. Like something in him has finally worn away.

You feel your whole body going cold.

He looks at you just like the other outlaws do. That spark of lust, mixed with a callous cruelty.

He doesn't seem like a boy anymore. Doesn't seem like a colt just growing into its legs, eyes all wide and sweet.

It doesn't matter that he's younger than you. In the half-dark, with the rainwater dripping off your clothes, he finally seems like a man. A man just like the others. With the strength and the will to take what he wants, regardless of whether or not you say yes.

A man who will take what he wants. Who's going to take it tonight.

And as he pulls you into the room, grip like iron around your wrist, you realise exactly what the boss was implying when he told the kid to warm you up. 

[uniquely-mystical03]

Bellaria leaned against the railing of the ship as it cut through the Zephyr Seas. Her party had been entrusted with this mission in a different country, just a couple weeks across the water, by Bellaria’s grandmother, a request from the King no less. They were already a week into their journey and everything had been going fine. The weather had been clear and there hadn’t been any signs of ocean life wishing to capsize them. Heck, despite the captain of the ship claiming that this area of the sea was usually crawling with pirates, they hadn’t even come across one- CRACK! Bellaria whipped her head around at the sound of wood splintering, eyes widening upon finding a harpoon embedded deep in the deck of the ship, a taut rope tied to it.

“Blasted- Pirates!” the ship captain called out as more harpoons flew through the air towards their ship, one piercing through the mast and another deep in the hull. Bellaria’s party all scrambled up to the main deck at the call, eyeing the harpoons with wide eyes.

“What the fudge is this malarkey about?!” Stephen exclaimed, staring out at the pirate ship drawing close to their ship’s right side.

Delicious morsels~ Bellaria’s patron hissed, their telltale tendrils slithering around her arms as she unsheathed her sword. Suddenly, the zipping sound of someone coming across the ropes drew the party’s attention to the harpoon in the ship’s mast, a dark, thin figure sliding across the rope towards their ship. The figure let go of what could only be described as a belt and fell to the ship’s deck, landing in a roll before turning, hopping back up to their feet, turning to the party with a sharp grin.

“Relax, everyone! You have been boarded by none other than I, Captain of the Vengeance!” the female pirate announced, drawing a sword that glimmered in such a way the tendrils of Bellaria’s patron slithered back with a hiss, a shiver trailing down the dwarf’s spine.

Nemesis…

“Oh gods. There’s no way…”

“Worry not, less you have done something to warrant punishment, you will be spared the vengeance of my dark goddess-“

“Damnit! Dalana, I swear to my great old patron, that better not be you!” Bellaria shouted, causing the dark elf to freeze, Bellaria’s party equally frozen in place, their eyes fixed on the back of their warlock leader. The dark elf stared at Bellaria for a moment before that all too familiar manic grin spread across their face.

“Well, well, well~ If it isn’t my old friend, the noble dwarven warlock! Long time no see, old friend~” Bellaria groaned, sheathing her sword as she turned to stomp towards the stairs that lead below deck.

“Wha- Bellaria! Where in all that is holy are you going?!” Eva exclaimed, the cleric beginning to move with the intention of stopping Bellaria from leaving.

“You guys are on your own with this. I can’t fight her.” Bellaria called back with a dismissive wave, causing Dalana’s grin to widen into face-splitting proportions.

“But, you’re our strongest member!” Stephen guffawed, “Surely that pirate is not more powerful than you.”

“No! You don’t get it!” Bellaria exclaimed, whirling around at the very top of the stairs that lead below deck, eyeing her party while waving a hand in the dark elf’s direction, “I am forbidden to fight that paladin. Our respective patrons have a nonaggression pact!” The party blinked at Bellaria’s words, turning their gaze towards the dark elf pirate who was now leaning against her sword, grinning cheekily, as if she found this entire situation amusing.

“Aw~ You mean you’re not going to watch me battle your little friends~?” Dalana purred, earning a glare from Bellaria which only made Dalana cackle, “I promise I won’t kill these ones.” Dalana called as Bellaria turned to trudge down the stairs to the lower deck, leaving her party standing there, staring wide eyed between the stairs their warlock had disappeared down and the paladin who had just hinted to how much trouble they were truly in. “Now… Let’s see just how good you people truly are~”

———

{Author’s Notes: The prompt inspired a little DND writing. Bellaria and Dalana are randomly generated DND characters using various sites}

"No, I mean I'm forbidden to fight that paladin," the warlock said. "Our respective divines have a nonaggression pact."

[anhesacardia]

Forbidden Promises

Chapter 3 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: none for now except that Reader is a mother, called mumma/momma, Hana is six years old, Toji being a warning of his own, small mention of pregnancy, Tojis past being discussed, Sukuna pov!!! Finally, assasination mentions, pregnancy cravings mentions, Uraume pronouns being they/them, Sukuna curses, there will be eventual smut so MDNI.

Word count: 1.7k

Sukuna swirls the ice around in his glass, beer sloshing against the edges. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the smooth planes of his muscled chest. He would rather be anywhere but stuck in the bars of one of his definitely-not-legal businesses.

The dim lights flickered around him, casting shadows on his cheekbones. Sukuna leans back in the booth, manspreading with a smirk when he sees Toji come over,

“Y’know Uraume heard something real interesting yesterday,”

Sukuna took a swig of his drink as Toji sat down, glaring at him above the rim of the glass. Toji opened his mouth to explain but Sukuna started again,

“They said on a collection that was supposed to take you just three hours, took you five, and then some more,”

Toji poured cheap whiskey into his own glas, setting his arm on the back of the booth seats and taking a long sip,

“The kid wanted something, it’s none of your business Ryomen.”

The taller male’s jaw clenched and he bit his cheek in order not to say something snarky in return,

“Whatever I don’t care about that,”

The pink haired man set the glass down, leaning his forearms on the cheap table that rattled against his weight ,

“I need you to talk to your old boss for me- what’s his name again? That Korean guy,”

Toji raised an eyebrow, setting down his glass after taking a small sip, after all he had to drive back and no way he was getting pulled over for a dui.

“Shiu Kong? Why you got someone you needa kill? I can always do that”

Sukuna scoffed, calling a waiter over for a new bottle of whiskey a pointed glare shot at Toji who finished the previous bottle.

“No more blood on your hands Fushiguro, you swore to your wife, remember? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her already,”

The fact that Sukuna was his employer and the only one willing to take him after Toji broke down was the only thing stopping him from getting into a bar fight with the man across the table.

“Shut it Sukuna. I’ll send over Shiu’s contact to you.”

Toji glanced off to the side, entertaining himself with how wild Sukuna would go if he were to drop the information about the kid and you, chuckling to himself at the creativity of his own imagination.

A vein throbbed in Sukuna’s forehead at the sound of Tojis breathy laugh, barking at him to get out and to stop wasting his money and time. The raven haired man leaves without a second thought, thanking Sukuna sarcastically for the drinks and swiping the rest of the whiskey off the table before leaving Sukuna alone again.

The men had been friends since high school, meeting each other in an alleyway fight where the Sukuna family’s rivals had picked up a fight with the cursed man. Toji had his back when he stumbled upon the scene after running away from his own household and they had formed a kind of camaraderie.

Though when Toji started his assassin days, Sukuna lost touch with him, calling him only for the every odd job here and there for his more illegal ventures in business. After all, as the heir to the KOC corporation, anything but a clean record would have ruined his chances at inheritance.

And after Toji lost his wife, the CEO immediately offered him a job in the company, helping him pick back the pieces of his life and take care of Megumi. Well Sukuna couldn’t really help it, not with his annoying nephew Yuji who took an immediate liking to the depressing brat Megumi.

The dual haired secretary that Sukuna hired when you both had first started officially dating was always your favourite among all of Sukuna’s employees.

But now standing in front of you with a carefully crafted expression as they failed to hide the shock at seeing the mini-Sukuna, you weren’t so sure if your notions still held true.

They held their hands infront of them, the long sleeves of their clothing covering their hands, you always wondered why Sukuna made an exception for Uraume when everyone else was help to strict standards,

“I take that is Sukuna-sama…I came here when I received report of Fushiguro… to think I’d witness this…”

Uraume’s voice shook slightly, the suprise evident in their voice. Your mind wandered for a second, they were always a good cook and you fought your toughest pregnancy cravings against their cooking.

You let Hana down from your arms, the bakery had been closed today, you wanted to take a break and go to the amusement park which Hana had been whining about.

“Are you going to tell him? Can it wait till later then? I have to go out now.”

You sigh watching Hana hug your knee with a pouty face, pestering you to just leave already. You took a glance at the clock, you had decided going a bit earlier in the morning would mean you would be able to come back before lunch rush where Fumiko would handle the rest but with Uraume’s unexpected visit those plans had been derailed.

Speaking of the devil, they were just standing there’s and observing the pair of you, squinting at Hana.

“I will wait until the end of today.”

With that Uraume left a card, Sukuna’s new number. You froze for a second, pocketing the card trying not to show how much it affected you.

“I’ll see you around Uraume..”

Hana was picked up back into your arms where she rested her head on your shoulder, her small bag straps digging into your arms. You patted Uraume’s shoulder with your free hand, watching them leave and get into the company issued car with a tight set mouth.

Hana patted your back when you finally let out a sigh of relief, smiling at you when you reassured her in return.

“Let’s go okay?”

Making the decision to visit the amusement park in the morning had to be one of the best ones you made. They were barely any people around, just the few parents with their younger children here and there. Hana held your hand as she dragged you around, arrogance seeping from her whenever she beat you at a game, just like her father even though she never even met the man.

Infact you think you were more scared than the five year old in the all ages horror house. She was daring and courageous, you were grateful that those were the traits she inherited from her father and not his foul mouth.

Throughout the day you fiddled with the card in your pocket, Fumiko called and said that she would take care of the rush on her own and that you need not supervise her. You caved in when Hana also gave you her biggest puppy eyes, dragging you to an ice cream stand.

You both sat down on a nearby bench with the ice creams, one hand holding the cone and the other fiddling with the change as you tried to shove it back into your pocket. Unfortunately this was the exact moment when Sukuna’s card fell down, you bit your lip, pondering for a second before picking it back up.

It was a smooth black paper card, ridged at the ends. Sukuna’s name stood out in bold red letters, CEO of KOC put underneath strategically, followed by his business email and phone number. You flipped the card around to find nothing, chuckling to yourself and the you held the card between your fingers.

Sukuna would never design something like this, you knew him far too well to know he wouldn’t spend his precious time on something as useless as a paper card with his information. Your heart still swelled up with pride though, seems like the boy you met in high school had finally been polished into the man he wanted himself to be.

“Do you really want to become CEO Ryo? Or is it something you’re doing because your parents want you to?,”

The question is whispered into the quiet of the night, Sukuna’s arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you rested your head on his chest, playing with the chain on his neck. Sukuna’s breathing was heavy- heavy but comforting in the best possible way. It made you want to curl up into a ball and hide into his chest forever.

“When have I ever done something because someone else wanted me to? Heh. I’m going to fucking rule the stupid corporation.”

A rare crazed grin crossed Sukuna’s face and you poked the ends of his smile with your index, smiling back at him as he chuckled, grabbing your wrist in his palm,

“Don’t test your luck brat,”

You giggled in response, Sukuna would never truly hurt you. Never has since you were kids and he never will, you know that his threats are just empty promises said to protect himself from vulnerability.

“Whatever Ryo, go back to sleep”

Sukuna grumbled, turning to his side and pulling you closer to his chest, one arm propped to rest your head against,

“G’nite to you too,”

He mumbled against your forehead, pressing almost the softest kisses onto your hairline.

Hana had finished her icecream by the time you finished taking a jog down memory lane and you gave up your own to satisfy her insatiable hunger with a smile on your face.

Whatever it takes for your baby girl to be happy. That’s what matters, not Sukuna’s money or fame or whatever fucked up part of the world he was still partaking in.

Sukuna watched people flit in and out of his bar, drinking to himself as women tried to approach him and he shrugged them off without a second though. Years later and you still haunt his life like some kind of cryptid ghost. Fuck Tojis wife had passed away and even that fucker could move on.

His attention was drawn to his phone not a second later, a photo Uraume sent of a woman’s back and a child in her arms that just looked too much like him. He slammed the cup down, almost choking on the cheap whiskey as his grip on the phone tightened.

He’d recognize you even if you were just a blurry figure in the background of someone’s image, oh and to hide this from him? Yeah. Good luck running away from him again.

<-Previous Current Next->

A/n: I really pushed this out last minute cuz I got a comment and that spurred me on heh, as always likes reblogs and comment appreciated!!!

Taglist: @lady-of-blossoms @shokosbunny @after-laughter-come-tears

[seumyo]

If ghosts were real—well, Bakugou didn’t believe in ghosts, but if they did exist—they lived in the spaces people left behind.

And you happened to have left behind too many.

It wasn’t just the obvious things. Not the clothes still folded in your drawers, untouched. Not the way your books still sat on the shelves, the spines cracked from overuse, the pages filled with notes in the margins. Not even the stupid coffee mug you always used, the one you once swore made everything taste better, still sitting exactly where you left it on the kitchen counter (because it had his and your face printed on it).

No, the spaces you left behind were quieter. More insidious.

Like the empty seat across from him at the dining table, where you used to sit, eating straight from the pot that one night because, “Why dirty another dish?”

Like the sound of the bathroom door not opening in the morning when he’s actually using the toilet—dammit, you didn’t even have the care in the world to give your boyfriend some privacy—the absence of your muttered complaints about how the water took too long to heat up.

Like the other side of the bed, cold and untouched, where he still reached out in his sleep, half expecting to find you there. Anticipating to hold you closer to him.

Grief was a strange thing to Bakugou.

It wasn’t like pain. Pain was easy. A broken rib, a busted lip, the sharp sting of impact—those things, he knew how to handle. You grit your teeth, you clench your fists, you keep moving. That was what you did. That was the kind of man he was.

But grief wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t a punch he could take and shake off. It was a weight pressing down on his chest, invisible but suffocating. It was the silence of an empty apartment. It was the echo of your voice in his head, the way his brain still filled in the blanks in conversations you should have been part of.

It was standing in the grocery store, staring at the shelf, reaching for the brand of tea you liked before stopping halfway, fingers hovering in the air, before dropping his hand back to his side.

What was the point?

He hated how much space you had taken up in his life. Hated how even in your absence, you still lingered, threading yourself through his routine, his thoughts, his goddamn muscle memory.

But more than anything, he hated how much he wanted it to stay.

Because if ghosts were real, then maybe—just maybe—you weren’t completely gone.

He hadn’t cried. Not when he first got the news. Not when he stood at the funeral, jaw locked so tight it ached. Not when he walked through your apartment alone for the first time, every corner of it filled with your presence, your things, the remnants of the life you lived.

But tonight, he was exhausted.

Physically. Mentally. It comes down on him like something tangible, something inescapable—all at once.

And for the first time in a long time, he spoke into the silence.

“…This is fucking stupid.”

His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse.

Nothing answered.

Of course, nothing answered.

Still, Bakugou exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’d be so pissed at me right now.”

The quiet stretched.

Bakugou let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. But look at you. Still haunting me, huh?”

His eyes flickered to the couch, where you used to sit cross-legged, laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to listen to whatever bullshit he was ranting about while actually getting work done.

A strange, bittersweet feeling lodged itself in his chest.

“…You remember that time you swore up and down that ghosts were real?” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I told you you were full of shit.”

Silence.

His fingers curled into fists. “Kinda wish you were right.”

No answer. No sign. Just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint buzz of the city outside the window.

But in the quiet, he thought—just for a second—he could hear it.

A breath. A whisper of movement. The sound of something shifting just out of sight.

He knew it was nothing. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

But still, Bakugou closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself pretend.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙗𝙤𝙮

Pairing: Lensless!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warning: Violence

Inspiration: “Loverboy” by A-Wall

—synopsis—

you break up with Mark and he absolutely loses his shit

a/n: i keep thinking about the turning point for all the variants, the moment when they finally go full psycho. this is my take on how it went down for the most unhinged of the bunch 😛 if y’all like this idea i might do the same setup for some of the other variants c: also can someone tell me how to center shit? i can't stand the way this photo is aligned to the left

Mark Grayson stood there, staring at his phone like it was some kind of strange, foreign object. The message from you, the words that had just shattered his world, danced in front of his eyes, flickering and mocking him.

We need to break up. I can’t do this anymore.

He blinked, once, twice—hoping the words would change. But no, they stayed there, taunting him. We need to break up. I can’t do this anymore. Over and over. His mind spun, his heart dropped. The world felt like it was suddenly tilting sideways.

No, no, no, he thought, shaking his head, trying to make sense of it. This can’t be happening. He had fought aliens. He had stopped monsters. He had beaten back threats from across the universe—and yet, here he was, powerless, staring at a screen.

His hands started to shake. He dropped the phone, watching it crack on the floor.

Why?

The question echoed in his head, over and over again. Why? What had he done wrong? He was Invincible, wasn’t he? He had saved the world. He had fought for the good of everyone… And you just throw it all away?

He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened. The suffocating pressure, the sting of betrayal—it all built up, bubbling beneath the surface.

But I’m not enough, am I? His voice, in his head, started to change—warped. Bitter. Angry. The hero, the one who always stood tall, suddenly felt small. No one was there to save him. Not you. Not anyone. Everyone had left him to stand alone, even when he gave everything for them.

His eyes darkened. His teeth clenched. The anger… it was coming. The rage, the darkness—it was pulling at him like a tidal wave.

Maybe it was time to stop pretending.

The phone rang. It was his father—Omni-Man. The same man who had told him all those awful truths about the world. The one who had turned everything upside down.

Mark didn’t even bother to answer. No one could save him anymore. Not his father. Not anyone.

His fists clenched, and the room around him started to crack. He could feel it—the power surging through his body, the rage making him tremble. Every muscle in him screamed for release.

They all leave eventually. He thought of you. Of how you’d just thrown him away like a broken toy. It was sickening. He could feel it crawling under his skin—like something was snapping inside him.

I tried. I really tried to be good, to do everything right, but it never mattered, did it? Now? Now the world was his playground. They all wanted him to break. And they would get exactly what they wanted.

He stepped outside, shot into the air with charged energy, the world below him nothing but a blur of lights and noise. He needed this. Wanted it. It was the only thing that felt real anymore. He could hear the people below, terrified. They had no idea. They had no idea what he was about to become.

Mark grinned. It was a twisted, manic grin—a grin that didn’t belong on the face of the boy who had once been a hero.

“I did everything for you.” He muttered to himself, his voice thick with insanity. He floated over the city, his eyes gleaming with something darker than hate. “Everything. For you. And you—” He laughed, an unhinged, breathless sound that filled the empty space. “You don’t even care, do you?”

The city trembled beneath him, a test, a challenge.

He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t need to. In fact… it felt good. No, it felt great.

With a violent snap of his wrist, the skyline cracked, buildings folding under his power. People screamed below him, running, hiding.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Mark called out, his voice light and playful, as if this was just another game. “It’s not the end. Not yet, anyway. We’ve got all night, right?”

He paused, letting the devastation sink in. The city was crumbling, and he was loving every second of it. He hovered there, savoring it, as the world around him burned.

Hours later, the night was still. The destruction was only a whisper now, the silence hanging in the air like a promise. Mark flew through the streets, his mind buzzing with a strange kind of glee. His thoughts were chaotic, but one thing was clear.

He knew where you were.

Mark floated toward your house, the familiar street now a place of twisted anticipation. It was so quiet. Too quiet.

He could see your lights on through the window. He could hear your heartbeat, faint but steady, inside.

A manic grin spread across his face. He didn’t need to think anymore. It was all so simple now. The game was changing. The stakes? Well, they were everything.

Mark landed gently on the lawn, the grass bending under his feet. He didn’t knock. He didn’t have to.

He could feel the power surging through him, making his skin hum with excitement. He was a bomb ready to explode, and you were the fuse.

“You know,” he said, voice dripping with dark amusement as he slowly approached the door, his steps heavy, controlled. “I thought maybe I’d let you see what happens next. But I think it’ll be more fun if you feel it.” He grinned, twisted, and so full of madness.

The door creaked open, just a crack. He leaned in, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll enjoy this. Not so sure about you though.”

And with that, the door flew open, the shadows swallowing the light from inside.

Part Two!

[snappingturt3ls]

Danny, flying in on CK doing his thing just as one of the bats shows up: Some this is where you disappeared to then King? I'm impressed you managed to get this far.

CK, internally freaking out: Oh shit! Phantom, come on man, I've got a good thing going here. I'm not even causing any major damage this time!

Bats, who have just arrived on the scene but haven't revealed themselves yet: wtf, since when does CK have fucking lore?

Danny: I will give you that, you haven't used any Nasty Burger sauce this time so there's been no major property damage, but you still shouldn't be here. Boxy and Lunch Lady have been bugging me to track you down for a while now.

CK: What! Why!?! Those two are the ones who gave me the idea of running in the first place!

Danny, incredibly amused: Because you missed their wedding and the birth of their first child you numbskull! You were supposed to be the best man but you disappeared and no one could find you.

CK, frozen in shock: THEY GOT MARRIED! A KID! IM AN UNCLE!

Bats, growing evermore confused and amused: Oh my god the lore deepens

Danny: Yeah, Box Lunch wants to meet you really bad and you're the last of my old rouges I haven't pacified yet so I decided to come deal with you as a Truce day gift.

CK: Okay, very well, I will return. However! First, we shall battle, and you shall bring me back in the thermos, for old times sake. Can't make it to easy on you after all.

Danny: *snorts* alright, fair enough. Come on, I'll let you get a minute before I attack back.

Bats, not worried because CK is a wimp going against an obvious meta: this poor bastard in going to be covered in mustard lol

CK: *starts flying and firing explosive sauce, leveling the building behind Danny, who dodged*

Bats: (;° ロ°)

CK: *starts flying at near supersonic speeds shooting sauces with various different effects, like explosions, acidic, stink, etc.*

Danny: *dodges every hit whilst mildly amused* 30 seconds left, don't hit any humans or I won't be gentle

CK: *flying through walls, duplicating, going invisible, and using other stupidly powerful abilities to try and hit Danny with something, ANYTHING* Don't worry, I know the rules

Bats, in full panic mode because WTF: Holy shit what did we even do here, call superman? Since when can CK do THIS! How did we miss that fucking CK is a JL level threat!?!

Danny, who has yet to be hit: ~ten seconds CK~

CK, who knows full well he's about to get his shit kicked in: *laughs as he keeps trying to hit Danny* I'm gonna make them count! *One of his duplicates had been charging a single shot which covers the whole city in sauce, Danny goes intangible but this sauce is designed to hit intangible ghosts and he gets hit* I FUCKING DID IT!!!

Danny, mildly amused: alright, I admit it CK, I'm impressed. You've learned a new trick. *shakes the sauce off of him, leaving him clean and the very messy bats jealous* your time is up now though. *takes CK down in one hit which launches him across the city before souping him*

Danny: should I clean this? Nah, this city has dealt with CK before, they are probably used to this by now. *flies back to amity*

Batman: I think, Im going to have to update CKs file...

Batkids: yeah no shit

Runaway Rogue

So! A couple of years ago, Danny lost one of his Rogues.

It's not that they got Ended or anything, he literally lost them and couldn't find them. One day they ran off after being defeated and never showed up again. They were one of his Joke Villains, not posing a real threat but still extremely annoying when they wanted to be.

He hadn't seen them in Years now, and with the situation in Amity quelled and more free time on his hands than he had gotten in Years, he decided to finally track the Ghost down and see what he had been up to.

His search led him to Gotham, where he finally found the one Rogue that he had lost all those years ago.

Condiment King.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Ugh, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you say as you plant the umbrella in the sand. 

“Isn’t that what you said about the old man?” Angelique scoffs and pinches your ass. 

You swat her away, “were you not just asking me to hook you up with one of his friends?” 

“Whatever. A girl’s gotta eat,” she giggles as she sits on the beach blanket and flips the lid of the cooler. “And drink.” 

She cracks open the ready-to-drink long island iced tea. You opt for a fruitier option as you settle onto the blanket across from her. You flip down your sun glasses and sigh. 

“What about the others? I know it’s an exclusive trip but I doubt it’s just us.” 

“They’re coming,” she catches a trickle along her chin with her tongue. “Now you’ve been baptized, maybe you might find a hottie around here. Let me tell you, young dick is something else.” 

“Oh and you would know,” you roll your eyes. “I mean, don’t all dicks feel the same once have so many.” 

“Shut up,” she throws sand at you. 

“Matching energy,” you hum and push in the tab of the can. 

“Did he fuck air into your head?” She chirps. “Jeez, you’re a fucking bitch now, aren’t you?” 

You just laugh at her. She’s salty over everything. She never liked not being the better of you two. You don’t think it’s really all that different than before, she just has less to tease you about. 

“Angel,” Colin’s voice ripples over the beach. Angelique sits up and squeals. You didn’t know she invited him. “Hey, baby, you look good.” 

She jumps up, leaving her can planted in the sand, and skips over to him. She sends more sand your way. You shield yourself as his entourage traipses up behind him. 

“So do you,” she pets his hairy chest as she stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Took you long enough.” 

“Had to get the party favours,” he gestures behind to the keg carried between two of his bros and the bluetooth speaker better suited to a night club. “Huh, is that who I think it is?” He glances over at you. 

“Colin,” you greet sardonically as you lean back on one arm. His eyes drift down your body. You cross your legs subtly. He’s never done that before. 

“That a new suit? Looks good on you.” 

You narrow your eyes behind the tinted lenses, “sure is.” 

“Yeah, her tits never stop. She snapped the last top like it was tooth floss,” Angelique snickers and shimmies her pert chest at him. 

“Hey, Ang,” Harley calls as she unfolds her beach towel, “who’d you fuck to get this beach house?” 

“Oh, shut up, slut,” Angelique snakes around Colin and punches Harley’s arm. The two of them could be twins; tall, slender, high tits, even the same pedicure. 

You bend your legs and sit up straight as company files in. You know them all. The typical crowd. Colin, Ryan, Trent, and Sterling, who prefers Steez. Either way, he sounds like a douche. Then Harley, her sister, Hazel, Tracy, and Kissie. 

You put aside your drink and distract yourself with the bottle sunscreen. You should put it on before the sun’s too high and you’re too tipsy. The voices garble around you as you rub the lotion into your legs. 

As you reach for the bottle, it’s scooped out of your grasp. You look up at Colin. 

“Can I get your back, kitten?” He winks. You furrow your brow and glance at Angelique. She’s groping Hazel’s tits. They look bigger, not that you took measurements. 

“Fine,” you turn and let him smear the lotion on your back. You can’t reach and trying will only have you pushing out your already oversized chest.  

His hands run up and down your back. Tendrils spread over you and you hold back a shudder. Calm down, girl. You’re not that thirsty. 

His hands slip around and suddenly scoop up your tits. You smack him and yelp as you spin away. 

“The fuck, guy?” You sneer at him. 

“I was checking if they’re real. Hazel’s aren’t.” He chuckles. 

You grimace, “Colin, you’re such a perv.” 

“Never said I wasn’t.” He stands and snaps the elastic on his trunks. “Finish that drink and I’ll be back.” 

You curl your lip and grab the can. You flip him the finger and search for your bag. You pull out your phone. Low bars. You shove it away and stare out at the water. 

“...some old guy. Grey hair and everything...” Angelique’s voice wafts over. 

“Oh,” Tracy struts up, “I heard you’re a slut now.” 

You look at her and take a drink. You shrug. “I have a lot to catch up with around you guys.” 

She giggles and sits on the end of the beach blanket, “tell us everything.” 

You look at Angelique and she smirks. She’s such a bitch. 

“It was just... you know. Whatever,” you shrug. 

Hazel and Harley sit beside Tracy and Kissie hovers behind them. 

“How old?” Harley asks. 

“I don’t know--” 

“Like fifty,” Angelique says. 

“He doesn’t look that old,” you counter. “Or fuck like it. It was like hours. I’m still tired.” 

“Hours? Sure.” Trent scoffs. “Old guy blew and rolled over to get his five o’clock nap.” 

“Fuck off,” you wave him off. Colin peers over as he turns his hat backwards. You sigh. “Here.” 

You take out your phone and search for the picture that was your background until that morning. The one of you and Bucky. You show the girls. 

“Shit, he’s fucking hot!” 

“And jacked, look, you can see his chest--” 

“Guess he worked out in prison,” you joke. 

The girls go quiet. Kissie speaks first, “prison?” 

You frown, “I don’t know. He’s got tattoos. He mentioned something. I mean who hasn’t done a night in jail?” 

“You,” Angelique accuses. 

“Drunk tank isn’t prison,” Ryan snorts. 

You shake your head, “well, he’s not in there now. And it was one night. Who the fuck cares?” 

“I didn’t know men his age came in that flavour,” Harley wiggles on her knees. 

“What are we? Chopped liver?” Colin snipes. 

“One pump chump,” Harley retorts. 

“Like you would fucking know,” he turns away. 

The girls laugh. It’s a bit ridiculous now it’s done and over with. It’s not that big of a deal. Fun, sure. Just the thought makes you want to moan but it’s not life-altering. Nope, you’re over it now. Now you can focus on more important things. 

Like getting fucking hammered and going swimming. You don’t want to think about work or your neighbour or your rent. You just want to have fun. 

👙

The sun adds to the effect of the vodka. There’s that haze around the edges of the vision, that looseness in your body. You feel good. Lighter. 

You run alongside Hazel into the tides and she squeals as the waves crash over you. You plunge under as you feel the top of your tankini slipping. You pop up over the surface and catch your chest as the straps hang down your arms. 

You giggle as you search for Hazel. She’s adjusting her bikini as she wades around. She grins at you. The other girls come crashing through. 

A shadow lands next to you. You look over as the frisbee floats on the water. You pull up the straps of your suit and fix the cups. Colin chuckles as he swipes up the disc and flings it. Trent hollers as it flies errantly through the air. 

“Hey, need some help with that,” he tugs on the straps and your chest bounces. 

You smack his stomach, “god, you’re the fucking worst.” 

“How long we’ve been dancing around each other, huh?” He plays with one strap and you nudge him away. 

“Colin, don’t start with me, alright? I’m not interested and until two hours ago, neither were you.” 

“What? I'm not ancient enough for you? How would you know if you try something... fresher?” 

“I know, okay?” You back up. “I didn’t come here for that. I’m on vacation.” 

“What else are you supposed to do on vacation?” He asks as he catches your arm. He pulls you closer. “We could find somewhere in the trees...” 

“Ew, okay, stop,” you push on his chest. 

He bends suddenly and picks you up. He plunges under with you and the water floods your throat. He brings you back up as you hack and cough, wriggling in his arms. 

“Ugh, you two, no one wants to see it so go somewhere else,” Kissie chides. 

“Yeah,” Angelique agrees and you glance over to find her glowering. 

“It’s not going to happen,” you shove on Colin until he lets you go. 

You splash down and his hand brushes your ass. You swipe him away again. You stomp through the water, fighting through the depths, and come up onto the beach. 

You need water. Three drinks was way too much. So much that you’re half-considering Colin. He’s a creep but you’re getting a bit antsy. You should’ve known vodka was a bad mix with half-naked hotties. 

You sit down on the blanket and untwist the cap of your water bottle. You chug about a quarter then wipe your mouth. Someone drops down beside you. You peer out at the water in confusion before you look over. 

Bucky sits on the other side of the blanket. The sun shines over the silver streaks in his hair as he wears all black; tee and jeans. He’s unbothered by the sweltering rays. 

“So why didn’t you mention you were going away?” He asks as he rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. 

“How-- what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t take too kindly to being ditched,” he looks at you, his jaw clicking. 

“Ditched? No, Bucky,” you look away. “I... I had this planned for a while, I just... forgot to say. I mean...” you pick at your lip. “Look, it was a lot of fun. You and I,” you smile at him. “But like, that’s it, right? I mean, we’re neighbours, we don’t want it to get weird. And I’m a bit young for you--” 

“I said that. I told you that,” he hisses as a lock of hair falls forward. His eyes swirl like the lake. “I begged you to back off and you said you wanted me.” 

“Bucky...” 

“No, you told me I was perfect for you.” 

“Perfect in the moment, but--” 

“This isn’t a fucking game. I’m too old for that. I spent enough time locked up that I’m well-past this bullshit,” he snarls and you wince. You’ve never seen him like this. And the mystery of how he even found you has you reeling. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear--” 

“You fucking started this. You,” his lips trembles. “I warned you. I told you to stop over and over. Don’t make me the bad guy.” He shakes his head as his eyes search the horizon. He brings his hands to his cheeks and drags them through his stubble. “Then I fucking see you out in there in the water with some fuckhead--” 

“Bucky--” 

“Let’s get one thing straight. It’s not over. Not fucking close,” he growls. He leans forward and pushes himself up. He stands over you, a blight against the bright blue sky. “I’ll be fucking watching. Understand. You have your fun but not too much.” He balls his tattooed fist. “And that boy touches you again, I’ll break every single fucking finger on his hands. Then I’ll slice his dick off.” 

You stare at him, stunned. You’re confused. Is this some hallucination? Is the sun playing tricks on you? 

“You’re fucking mine and I don’t mess around with my territory.” He grits down at you. “I’m your first, your last, your only.” He points at you. “Doll.” 

He marches away, unhindered by the sand in his thick-treaded boots. You turn to watch him and shudder. You look at the water. The rest are perfectly ignorant, splashing each other, tossing the frisbees, diving under. None of them have any idea that he’s there. You suspect if they find out, it won’t be good. 

[revelboo]

Gurllllll 🤣 you won't believe it , I got an allergic reaction ( I have sensitive skin lmao )from a shower gel I randomly saw and while I was waiting in the dermatologist clinic I remembered l.g fuad ,what happened?

Oh no! I hope you’re feeling better!

L.G. Fuad Pt 13

Tarn x Reader

• Even not understanding alien gibberish, you don’t need to for the fact that the little blue one is ripping the big guy a new one to come across loud and clear. You’d just assumed she’s the one that gave him the soap, but maybe not, because she’s livid. Pointing and fussing at you and him both and he just wilts under the tirade. And it’d be hilarious if you weren’t so miserable, wheezing and coughing, skin itching and burning. Your big alien cowed by little Blue even though she’s not even knee high on him.

• Grimacing as Nickel begins to wind down and points imperiously for him to put you down, he vents and lets her have her way. Watching you shy away from her touch, your soft chirping sluggish. “Come on, behave for me,” Nickel croons, catching your little arm and examining it. “Organics can be sensitive to certain things, but the cleanser should have been fine with their biology.” When she presses her servos against your throat, you double over hacking and choking. “Seems to be an allergy to something in the cleanser.” And she stares up at him, expression censoring. “You did good trying to rinse it off, even if I don’t condone the way you went about it.” Like he’d been deliberately gawking at your anatomy. He’s never going to live this embarrassment down.

• As soon as Blue lets go of you, you’re curling up on the little exam table. Exhausted, mortified, and sick. Apparently letting you rest isn’t on the agenda after poisoning you again. Hear her padding away and then she’s back with a container of warm water and a cloth even though you’re sure he’d rinsed all of it off you. But she’s grabbing your arm and scrubbing you a bit too roughly, growling at you when you struggle out of principle. “I can wash myself.” Hate this, being buck naked and sick is bad enough, but you are not getting a sponge bath from Blue. Half tempted to just run and wedge yourself into a gap and hide from them both.

• Venting as you wrestle with Nickel trying to get the cloth away from her, chirping angrily, as your eyes and nose leak. “Are you going to help or just watch?” Nickel grumbles when you nearly fall off the berth, fighting to get the cloth as your chirping gets louder and more upset. And he’s mass shifting, towering over both of you as he reaches to grab the cloth and tug it away and your eyes widen. ‘Here,’ he mutters, servos wrapping around your arm as he wets the cloth again and gently rubs it over your little fingers, your palm and arm. You’re just staring up at him, sniffling. But you flinch when Nickel runs a scanner over you.

• It can get worse. Who knew. Staring up at his optics watching you from behind the mask, you don’t dare fight him. Had known you weren’t winning against little Blue, but him? You remember what he’d done to you with just his voice and you’re not risking his temper. His servos are shockingly gentle as he keeps wetting then rinsing the cloth, running it up your arm and over to your collar bone. Across to your other arm. Back over to your neck. He’s too close, leaning over you and you can feel the heat of him. And there’s not much point in being mortified when he’d been staring at everything rinsing you off in the washracks, but you’re still embarrassed. Especially when he cups your face in one hand to run the cloth over your forehead and cheeks. Down your chest and over your belly. Seizing his wrist when he tries to go lower and his head tips slightly, those red optics meeting your eyes as he rumbles at you. Know damn well that he sees you as some sort of weird cat, not a person, but still. You’re uncomfortably aware of him as he growls softly again. Asking and tugging against your grip. More than capable of getting his way with his strength, but he’s asking and you give up and let go. “Fine. Why not.”

Previous

[darkcherryharry]

praise you like i should - 2

singer!harry x you wordcount: 4.4k summary: after harry secretly got y/n off right next to his friends, he shows you just how much he loves you for it contains: smut, pussy worship, squirting, multiple orgasms, p+v sex, unprotected sex, let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged! a/n: hope you like! accepting prompt suggestions if you have any part one here 🍒 (you don't need to read it to read this one 🍒)

You could barely keep it together during dinner. 

Thinking about how Harry had fingered you and made you come right next to his friends had you on the edge of your seat, and you knew Harry wasn’t much better. 

When the movie had finally ended you both made your excuses - probably a bit too quickly - and booked it inside of the hotel to get to the restaurant. 

You knew you wanted to keep the moral high ground of making Harry sit through dinner but at this point it felt like a waste, knowing that underneath the table his cock was probably at least still half hard because it had hardly gone down for the rest of the time you sat on top of it watching the movie. 

You tried to keep it together, you really did, but once your dessert came out you couldn’t resist a little tease. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to rile him up just before you were going to head back upstairs.

“Do you still have your little problem?” you asked Harry curiously, balancing the teaspoon from your mousse between your lips.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you as if he didn’t know what you were talking about, but his cheeks being pink told a different story. 

“I don’t have any little problems,” Harry mused, cocking his head to the side. “Big problems, maybe,” he offered.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, having another melt in your mouth spoonful as you looked him over, making sure to bat your lashes as you did. 

“Alright, do you still have your big, massive problem?” You teased, putting on a bit of a husky sexy voice to emphasise the word and causing Harry to burst out in a loud laugh, drawing the attention of a table near you.

He slapped his hand over mouth and had the decency to look embarrassed, giving you the evil eyes before making a small apologetic smile at the other diners and waving them off. 

Once they were successfully distracted he eyed you again, cocking an eyebrow.

“You could find out, if you wanted,” Harry suggested. 

You looked at him curiously, wondering what he was suggesting considering you were sitting on opposite sides of the table before you realised you could work something out. 

As you slipped your heel off of your foot you raised your leg slowly, feeling around for his lower leg before making contact and dragging your pointed toe up the inside.

You kept your eyes locked on Harry as you travelled along his inner thigh, making sure to take it slow as you teased him, even taking another bite of your mousse so that he didn’t think he had your whole attention.

Eventually you reached the apex of his thighs, so you pressed the bottom of your foot against the front of his crotch. You tested how firm he was underfoot, definitely feeling some resistance and that he wasn’t completely soft. 

You watched from across the table as his lips parted when you started to rub your foot slowly against him, your smile turning wicked when you saw his perfect little pouty lips part and his eyes blow out so his pupil almost took over. 

“Doesn’t feel like that big of a problem to me,” you shrugged, still toying with him as he took a ragged breath. 

“You’re such a brat,” Harry replied, so you started to pull your foot away only for his hand to reach under the table at lightning speed and grab your ankle. “You really wanna walk out of here hard?” you asked him incredulously, letting your foot be guided back to his cock as he shuffled forward in his seat to seek more pressure. 

“Don’t care,” Harry replied, his voice a bit more gravelly than it had been before. “Worth it. I’m not gonna come for ages, anyway. Been too hard too long so I won’t last. Need to get you off a handful of times first. Need to worship you,” Harry replied earnestly as he ground himself subtly against your foot. 

“Baby,” you breathed, shaking your head at his desperation. “You’re gone, huh?” 

“Only for you,” Harry answered, glancing around as he squeezed your ankle. “Can we get out of here?” 

“You haven’t even finished your dessert,” you reasoned, but you were hardly against the idea. 

“You’ll taste better. I need you,” Harry responded, finally letting go of your ankle so that you could get your shoe on. He reached both hands beneath the table, presumably adjusting himself to be decent so you could leave, before quickly standing up to take your hand and guide you to your room.

And that’s how you’d wound up here, Harry pressing you against the front door the minute you got inside and locking it while he used his hips to pin you. 

“You look so beautiful tonight, y/n,” Harry murmured to you. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your stomach, his hands grabbing your hips and your waist as he dove in to kiss your neck. 

“Thank you H,” you replied, making a small moan when he roughly grabs your hip and the side of your arse. 

“I need you so badly. I can’t believe you let me make you come while we were just sitting with the band,” Harry insisted. It was like he was all around you, crowding your senses as you managed to get enough wherewithal to bring your hands up to lace around his neck. 

“Yeah? Did you like doing that?” you asked coyly as Harry moaned and rocked himself against you, flattening you against the door completely. 

“Fucking hell I did. Thought I was going to come just from how you felt around my fingers. You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry insisted, starting to tug at your dress and ruck it upwards, so he had handfuls of it and your thighs were exposed.

“Please let me have you, baby, I need you,” Harry begged softly, kissing down your neck and then onto your chest. Your dress was low cut enough that he could kiss between your breasts, his mouth hot and wet against your skin as he sucked the top of one in a noisy kiss.

“We’re barely in the room, H,” you complained, but it was half hearted as he rucked up your dress further and exposed your panties. He’d not given you any time to change, so they were still wet from earlier - and honestly from most of the dinner, since every little thing your boyfriend did turned you on.

“I don’t care. I need your pussy. Please y/n,” Harry insisted, moaning as he kissed your tits one more time before pushing your dress up higher, exposing your stomach. He started to sink slowly to his feet and dragged his lips over your torso, moaning and kissing and trying to convince you to stay. 

“You really are desperate, aren’t you H?” you asked him softly, watching him lick over your belly and suck on your hips before pressing his face directly against the triangle of your panties. He moaned on an inhale, his lips parting and you watched the sharp angle of his jaw as he greedily licked the fabric to get even just a trace of your wet. 

“More than. Want me to beg? I’ll beg you y/n. Your pussy’s not like anything else in the world. It’s the gate to heaven. It tastes so sweet and I’m the luckiest person in the whole world because it’s all mine,” Harry begged. 

“Please let me eat you out. I need to taste you. Need to make you come over and over so you know how mad you drive me, how desperate I am for you,” he added, moaning emphatically as he grabbed your thigh and slung it over his own shoulder so you were slightly more exposed. 

“Oh my god, Harry,” you mumbled, overwhelmed with how pretty his green eyes looked when he his mouth was on your cunt and begging for a taste. “Okay, okay, you can do it here,” you granted, his hand that remained on your thigh squeezing tightly. 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Harry responded, turning his head to kiss your inner thigh and then lick it, sucking to make a small mark and nosing his way back up towards your pussy. 

He then licked over the panties again, licking lower so he was closer to your hole than your clit and moaning to himself as he soaked your panties as if they weren’t already basically wet. 

“You taste so amazing. Do you care about these panties?” Harry asked you, and as soon as you shook your head no, he reached up with both hands and pulled firmly at the waistband to rip them apart, rather than remove your thigh from his shoulder.

You were secretly glad, both because it was hot and because Harry’s supportive weight under your thigh was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling and he’d hardly even started.

Harry desperately pulled at the panties so they travelled down your other thigh, enough so that you were out and exposed. Your dress was coming down almost over his head now that he’d let go of it, so you grabbed a handful and pulled it up, giving him some room to work with but also making it so that you could see him. 

He’d not even had the chance to take any of his own clothes off yet, still fully dressed in his trousers and button up you’d insisted he changed into, seeing as you were on a date and it was a nice restaurant, of course. 

“I love you,” Harry insisted earnestly once he caught sight of your pussy properly, pressing a kiss straight to your pubic bone. “I love your pussy. I love making you feel good, you’re so perfect,” Harry insisted, whispering his praise against your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could feel the throb of your blood pumping in your clit, the teasing and the waiting driving you insane, even if his worship was making your heart feel full your arousal was definitely taking over. 

“Harry, please,” you whined softly, watching his eyes flicker up at you and his smile turn just a touch deadly before he leant in closer and rested his lips against your labia. 

“Please what, my angel?” he asked, his breath hot as he spoke and you squirmed as he started to press kisses over where you split open, the promise not quite enough stimulation to do anything more than tease further.

“Need your tongue,” you responded, gasping when Harry sucked lightly on your labia, like he might on your bottom lip when you were kissing. 

“Of course, my love. Anything for you,” Harry responded, moaning softly before tipping his head down so he could get right where you were wettest. He stuck his tongue between your lips and licked a fat stripe through you, making you cry out in pleasure and your free hand fly to grab his hair. 

“Oh fuck, Harry, yeah, just like that,” you encouraged, holding his head in place so he couldn’t escape quite so easily.

You felt the intrusion of his wet tongue again, sliding easily against you and his fingertips digging in where they were grabbing the fleshiest parts of your thighs. Then he went for it, licking and sucking like he was ravenous and this was the last meal he’d ever have. 

The sounds he was making were borderline ridiculous, wet and slurping with desperation as he fucked you with his tongue and got your wet all over his cheeks. You doubled over in pleasure as he played with you exactly how you liked it, and it was only after a long while of focusing on your hole that he came up for air.

Harry gasped loudly, his breath heaving but he barely got a mouthful or two in before going back for more, his mouth working its way slowly and surely upwards and towards your clit. 

As soon as his lips wrapped around it he sucked the small bundle of nerves, making you moan even louder and your hand grip tightly in his hair. 

“Harry, fuck, please,” you moaned, your body spasming as he licked fat stripes over your clit instead, clearly wanting everything to be as wet as possible.

“D’you think you could squirt on me?” Harry asked in a gravelly tone, sucking your clit again slowly as if that would help you answer and not just completely distract you.

“Um, uh,” you stammered. He’d made you do it in the past, but it didn’t always work, so you weren’t quite sure if you could do it on command. “I can try,” 

“Perfect,” Harry praised, running his tongue through the length of your pussy a few more times for good measure before he properly locked on to your clit, starting to suck on it rhythmically and run his tongue around in circles to possibly drive you mad.

You’d made the mistake of telling Harry your favourite toy to use when he was gone was your rosebud clit sucker, and boy had he done his research to try and replicate it. It was even better though, because Harry’s mouth was warm and wet and he could somehow read exactly what your body wanted.

“Oh my fucking god,” you cried out, thumping your head back against the door as you arched your hips to angle yourself more into Harry’s mouth. Your breathing started to get laboured, and even though it was so hot earlier, it was so nice now to be able to be as loud as you wanted. 

Harry was relentless in his pleasure, and when the crest of your orgasm started to get closer you concentrated your energy into bearing down, just like you had the few other times Harry had made you squirt. It felt like an intense pressure, building and building inside of you and when Harry did something that felt borderline illegal with his tongue you started to come.

Much to your relief you felt - and heard - yourself squirt in a gush between your legs. The sensation of release amplified your orgasm tenfold, and though you were starting to thrash about in overwhelm of pleasure, Harry managed to stay locked right on your clit as you rode the waves of your orgasm though.

You panted and whined, your body starting to twitch towards the end when he still hadn’t let up and you weakly pushed his head away to not much avail.

“Harry,” you panted, your legs feeling so weak that if Harry wasn’t holding you up you absolutely would have sunk to the ground. He let go of your clit - thank god - but that didn’t stop him from licking you lower and sucking desperately to get the taste.

“You’re so fucking sexy. Need you to come again,” Harry insisted, moaning to himself as he cleaned you up, licking where you’d dripped down your thigh before coming back up near your clit and sucking again.

“Ah,” you cried out, tugging his hair properly and finally managing to look down at him as you pulled him back.

Harry’s face was wet. You hadn’t realised you’d squirted that much, but the front of his shirt and even his trousers were soaked all because of you. 

“Please, y/n. That was everything. I’ve never felt more turned on in my life. I need to make you come again, you deserve it,” Harry begged, licking his lips and staring up at you with wild eyes as you kept a firm grip on his hair. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, clearing your throat and blinking a few times before nodding.

“Okay, but gentle,” you insisted. 

“I can do gentle. Thank you baby,” Harry insisted as you let go of the tight grip of his hair and instead carded your hand through it softly, admiring how insane he was for you and feeling warm low in your belly.

Harry leaned in slower this time, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he extended his tongue for a cursory flick against your clit, clearly testing the waters as he pushed around until he got direct access. He circled it slowly with an open mouth, the light sensation driving you just as wild as the intense sucks had now that you had already come once.

“That’s better,” you praised, so Harry smiled and pressed in against you once more, continuing the light and gentle turns of his tongue. You felt his hand sneak around, a more guttural moan leaving your lips as he sunk two of his fingers inside of your pussy at once. 

He didn’t thrust them or anything, just curling them to touch your clit from the inside and turn circles against it like he had on the bus. That combined with his gently tongue on your clit had your inner thighs starting to shake, so Harry used his free hand to press you into the door so you were pinned for support.

Your second orgasm - or your third, you supposed, if you counted a few hours ago - started to build low in your gut, getting imminently closer when Harry closed his lips carefully around your clit and started to suck again. It was almost too much but he made sure it was just perfect, the lightest little ministrations combined with his long fingers as if he were drawing it out of you and knew everything you were feeling.

Even though you were expecting it it still somehow snuck up on you, rocking through your body and making your hips buck up into Harry’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. It was slower and slightly less intense, but made your toes curl nevertheless and had you wondering when your shoe had managed to fall off. 

This time you got overstimulated quickly after your orgasm faded so you pulled his mouth away quicker, looking down at him somewhat desperately. 

“H,” you mumbled, not sure what you needed but Harry seemed to get the picture. He slipped his fingers out of you and guided your thigh off of his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on it as he got to his feet and started to support you with both hands.

“I got you, baby. You’re fucking amazing. You’re my star, baby, that was… god,” Harry rambled quietly, kissing over your neck before kissing up to your face. He was still wet from your pussy but you didn’t really care, happy enough to kiss him back lazily and be felt up as you remained pinned to the door. 

“Felt so good,” you insisted when you could get a word in, letting Harry adore you some more and feeling quite lazy and weak from your multiple orgasms, almost slumping all your weight onto Harry. 

“Can I fuck you y/n? Right here?” Harry asked you softly once you’d managed to catch your breath. The idea of it sounded nice, really, Harry filling you up. You knew he wouldn’t last too long given how hard he felt, but it would be the perfect end to this round of sex for the evening. Then he could clean you up in the shower, maybe a bath for round two, and then bed for round three. 

If you were lucky you’d wake up in the middle of the night for round four. You had to make use of the hotel room, after all. 

“Yeah, baby. Can’t stand though,” you pouted, the words barely leaving your lips before Harry reached behind you and scooped you up. He used his hips to pin you as he adjusted your dress again to give him the best access, then he eyed you with a grin.

“You know I’ll look after you, darling,” Harry told you, reaching for the straps of your dress and guiding them down your shoulders. He admired your bra, tracing the edges of it softly and taking his time even though you knew he’d be dying for it. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’ll never be more blessed than I am being with you,” Harry insisted, reaching beneath you both to unzip his trousers and let them fall down his legs, getting his underwear down enough too and before you knew it he had one arm supporting your weight and the other guiding his cock to swipe against your pussy. 

He looked a state, his wet shirt and his mussed up hair. But he was beautiful, and he was going to fuck you good, so you never really minded in the first place.

“You’re beautiful too, baby,” you encouraged to Harry, gripping his waist with your thighs. You reached behind yourself, balancing against the door with your shoulder blades to give you enough room to unhook your bra and swiftly took it off, dropping it to the floor purely so Harry could enjoy your tits while he fucked you. 

“Fuck, y/n. You drive me crazy,” Harry insisted, finally tilting up to sink into you and letting you slide down on his cock. He got two big handfuls of your arse to keep you in place, and you watched as a serene expression melted all over his face from finally getting his dick wet.

“Told you, it’s heaven,” Harry insisted, leaning in to kiss you slowly. He stayed still inside of you to let you adjust, a hand wandering up to your tit and ever so softly circling your nipple until it hardened. 

“Yeah? You think so?” you asked Harry back, kissing him slowly and lazily for as long as he’d let you. 

“Know so. You ready?” Harry asked you softly.

“Yeah, babe,” you answered, but you still gasped when he gripped your thighs harder to pin you properly and started to fuck you against the wall. The first few thrusts was all he gave you to adjust before he started fucking you hard and fast, jerking your body up with each thrust as he rolled inside of you again and again.

His cock felt amazing, the perfect thickness and length and it was the only cock you wanted to take for the rest of your life.

You moaned and tipped your head back, deciding he deserved a treat so you moved one hand to your tit and grabbed it for his view, playing for a few moments with your nipple until the pleasure slowly turned into something you were just doing for yourself.

Harry didn’t seem to mind though, his eyes glued on you as he thrusted in and out of your pussy, his biceps looking swollen under his shirt. You wished you’d had time to get him to take it off so you could see them properly as he held you up against the wall, but you felt rest assured you’d see them later.

You felt them out instead, squeezing the firm muscle and making small little noises every time Harry got really deep. The gravity of the situation really added something, like when you rode him, making him feel like he was really splitting you open. 

“Gonna come in me, baby?” you tempted Harry, looking him over as you kept playing with your own tit, feeling the other one bounce on each thrust.

“Oh my god, yeah. You gonna come?” Harry panted, clearly getting a work out from fucking you like this, but you knew he had the stamina to work it out. 

You nodded, squeezing down on his cock with your pelvic floor and messing with his rhythm for a second or two while you made yourself tighter. 

“Yeah, think so. Come on your cock so you’ll fill me up,” you whispered to him, arching your back and relaxing yourself so that Harry’s thrusts could make you come. 

“Yeah, yeah, please, baby,” Harry begged you. You felt like you’d have tiny little bruises from his fingers littered up your thigh tomorrow but it hardly mattered, because right now you felt so good.

You really committed to this orgasm, letting the repetitive sensation of Harry’s cock sliding in and out of you guide you there. You kept playing with your sensitive nipple, squeezing and pulling it out and closing your eyes for a moment as you got yourself closer and closer.

Once you opened your eyes again, half lidded, all it really took to push you over the edge was to see how your boyfriend was staring reverently at you, the desperation in his eyes like he’d never known such bliss. You kept your eyes on him as you started to come again, crying out and clenching down on his cock firmly and stilting his rhythm again. 

Harry fucked up into you harder, moaning himself and pressing closer so he could bury his head in your neck and grapple at your hips. 

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Harry grunted, and you could feel from his sharp, slow thrusts that he was coming inside of you. You moaned and did your best to stay clenching on him, though your pussy was fluttering anyway from the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Harry’s breath was hot against your neck as he kissed you, and you felt physically a bit gross, but you were properly sated. You didn’t think it could ever get any better than what Harry gave you, since it felt like the world. 

“I love you baby,” you whispered to him once he stilled, still inside of you for now but you knew he was through his orgasm too.

“I love you too, my love,” Harry responded, picking his head up to kiss your lips. “Words aren’t enough,” he assured you. 

“Yeah,” you answered blissfully, giving him another kiss back and tilting your head up as you tried to catch your breath. “You’ll have to keep doing this to show me in actions instead,” you breathed. 

Harry giggled at you, fucking you just minutely with his half hard cock as if to teach you a lesson. 

“I can do that,”

[paxtito]

puppy love

pairings: vada x reader (g!p)

wc: 4.8k

warnings: smut 18+, reader has a dick, both inexperienced, p in v, kissing, swearing here and there (requested by anon — written at the end)

Vada’s room was dimly lit, the only real source of light coming from the string of LED lights lining her ceiling. The movie you’d put on half an hour ago had long been forgotten, playing to no audience as you and Vada were tangled up on her bed, lips moving in sync, bodies pressed close.

It wasn’t the first time you two had made out like this—far from it—but tonight, something about the way she was touching you felt different. More urgent. More deliberate.

Then, her hand started to drift.

You stiffened slightly when her fingers slipped beneath your shirt, her touch warm against your skin. Not that you didn’t want her to touch you—because you really, really did—but this was new. Unexplored territory.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, still breathless. “Vada?”

She blinked up at you, lips pink and slightly swollen. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. “What are we doing?”

A small, nervous smile tugged at her lips. “I mean… I figured it was kinda obvious.”

Your stomach flipped. “You wanna…?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Don’t you?”

You swallowed. “I mean, yeah, but like… shouldn’t we, I dunno, get condoms or something?”

Vada’s brows lifted slightly, and then she let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Oh. Right.”

It was like the reality of the situation hit both of you at the same time.

Vada never planned things—she just did them. Which was probably why she hadn’t even thought about protection, too caught up in the heat of the moment. And honestly? Neither had you.

She flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Damn. I totally killed the mood, huh?”

You chuckled, lying down beside her. “Not exactly. Just… postponed it.”

Vada turned her head to look at you, an amused glint in her eye. “So… rain check?”

You smirked. “Rain check.”

She huffed a dramatic sigh. “Guess we should’ve watched the movie after all.”

You sat up and grabbed your phone off the nightstand, quickly pulling up a browser window. You searched for "condom laws California" and scanned the results.

After a moment, you glanced over at Vada, still lying on her back with her hands behind her head. "Looks like you gotta be 18 to buy them, but no ID is required."

Vada blinked up at you. "Oh. Guess that's lucky."

You nodded, setting your phone back down. "Small mercies, huh?"

She smirked slightly. "Small mercies." Rolling onto her side to face you again, she reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess I should've planned this out a little better, huh?"

You shrugged, a wry smile on your lips. "Hey, it's not like we had a ton of time to plan much of anything."

Vada snorted softly. "True. It's not like I exactly saw this coming when I dragged you back here after school."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "Well, I'm glad you did."

She grinned at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Me too. Even if I did kinda screw up the execution."

"Eh, you're allowed to be impulsive sometimes," you teased.

"Mmm, I'm allowed to do a lot of things," she murmured, leaning in closer. Her lips hovered just inches from yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to pound. "Like what?" you whispered.

She smirked, eyes glinting with a wicked, playful light. "Like this."

Then she kissed you again.

Just as Vada was pulling you back down onto the bed, lips moving hungrily against yours, there was a sudden knock at the door.

You both froze, eyes wide as you stared at each other in shock.

"Vada?" Patricia called out from the other side of the door. "I brought you and your… friend some snacks."

Vada's mouth fell open, panic flashing across her face. She quickly pushed herself up and off the bed, running a hand through her disheveled hair in an attempt to make herself look more presentable.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, glancing around the room frantically. Empty soda cans and candy wrappers were scattered across every surface.

She grabbed a few and shoved them under the bed, then turned to you with wide, anxious eyes. "Uh, just, like, pretend we were, um, watching a movie or something, okay?" She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume just as her mother knocked again.

"Vada? Is everything alright in there?" Patricia asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

Vada took a deep breath and opened the door, just a crack. "Yeah, Mom, we're fine. We were just, um, watching a movie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Patricia peeked her head in, glancing around the dimly lit room. Her eyes fell on you, and she gave you a warm smile. "Oh, I see. Well, I thought you two might be hungry, so I brought you some snacks." She held up a tray of cookies and chips.

You offered Patricia a polite smile, trying to appear as casual and unflustered as possible. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Cavell. That's really kind of you."

Patricia returned your smile warmly, setting the tray down on Vada's desk. "Please, call me Patricia," she said kindly. "I'm just glad you two are enjoying some quality time together."

Vada shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly anxious about her mother's unexpected visit. She crossed her arms defensively. "Thanks, Mom. We're good though, so..."

Patricia seemed to pick up on her daughter's unease, her brow furrowing slightly. "Alright, well, I'll let you two get back to your movie then," she said, lingering for a moment before stepping back out into the hallway. "Remember, Vada, your sister and I will be in the living room if you need anything."

"Got it," Vada muttered, already starting to close the door.

"Oh, and Vada?" Patricia added, pausing in the doorway. "Your father and I just want you to know that we're here for you, no matter what. If there's anything you need to talk about..."

Vada's jaw clenched, and she looked away, unable to meet her mother's concerned gaze. "Yeah, I know, Mom. It's fine."

Patricia hesitated for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Okay. Goodnight then."

With that, she finally closed the door, leaving the two of you alone once more. The second the door clicked shut, Vada let out a shaky breath, running a hand over her face.

"Fuck," she muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. "That was too close."

As the movie played on, you both sat on the bed, munching on the snacks Patricia had brought. The chips were crisp and salty, the cookies sweet and soft. It was a nice change of pace from the junk food you'd been consuming all week.

Every so often, your hands would brush against each other as you reached for more snacks, sending a small spark of electricity through you. Vada would glance over at you, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, before looking back at the TV screen.

The movie was a cheesy 80s teen comedy, the kind of thing you both normally would have made fun of. But tonight, it was a welcome distraction, something to fill the silence between you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more and more tired. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your body yearned for rest. Beside you, Vada seemed to be struggling to stay awake as well, her head nodding slightly as she fought to keep her eyes open.

Eventually, she gave up, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes completely. Her breathing slowed, and her body went still.

You watched her for a long moment, admiring the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, so different from the anxious, guarded girl she usually was.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, you set the half-eaten bag of chips aside and shifted closer to her on the bed. You draped a light blanket over the both of you, tucking it around your shoulders.

Vada murmured softly in her sleep, nuzzling into your shoulder. A small, contented smile curved her lips.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You knew you should probably go to sleep too, but you didn't want to miss a single moment of this rare, quiet intimacy between you.

Instead, you wrapped an arm around Vada's waist, holding her close as the movie played on, the flickering light of the TV screen casting a soft glow over the two of you curled up together on the bed.

—

You and Vada stood in the dimly lit aisle of the drugstore, staring up at the wall of condoms with wide, uncertain eyes. There were so many options, it was almost overwhelming. Different brands, different sizes, different... flavors?

Vada let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "I had no idea there were this many kinds," she muttered, reaching out to grab a box and turning it over in her hands.

You glanced at the package, raising an eyebrow. "Lubricated, textured, extra strength, extra sensitivity..." You shook your head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "How are we supposed to know which ones to get?"

Vada shrugged, tossing the box back onto the shelf. "I guess we just pick something and hope for the best?" she suggested, not sounding very convinced.

You bit your lip, scanning the shelves again. "I read somewhere that you're supposed to get condoms that fit snugly but aren't too tight," you offered, trying to remember the details from some article you'd skimmed online.

Vada snorted. "Snugly but not too tight. Got it." She grabbed another box and held it up. "What about these? They say they're 'form fitting'."

You looked at the package, then back up at Vada. "I don't know. How do we know if they'll fit me?" you asked, feeling a bit flustered.

Vada looked down at the condom package in her hand, then back up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, there's only one way to find out," she said with a grin, holding the box out to you. "Here. Let's try one on you and see how it fits."

You felt your cheeks flush hotly at the suggestion, glancing around the empty aisle to make sure no one was watching. "Here? Now?" you hissed, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Vada, we can't just... I mean, what if someone sees us?"

Vada rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smirk on her lips. "Relax, no one's around. And it's not like we're going to have sex right here in the middle of the drugstore aisle," she pointed out, though there was a hint of teasing in her tone that made you wonder if she was entirely joking.

You shook your head vehemently, grabbing a plain box of condoms off the shelf. "No way, Vada. I'm not about to start experimenting with weird textured condoms in the middle of the store," you said firmly, clutching the box of regular condoms to your chest like a shield.

Vada let out a dramatic sigh, but she couldn't keep the smirk from her face. "Fine, fine. Plain old boring condoms it is," she relented, plucking the box from your hands and tossing it into the basket.

She started to walk towards the checkout counter, but paused, glancing back at you with a wicked grin. "You know, I never thought I'd be so excited to buy condoms," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, well, I never thought I'd be buying them with you," you shot back, feeling a sudden surge of courage. "But here we are."

As you approached the counter with Vada, the cashier, an older man with a stern expression and a name tag that read “Roy,” eyed you both warily. His gaze lingered a bit too long on the box of condoms Vada had placed on the counter, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Roy cleared his throat, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. "ID," he said gruffly, holding out his hand expectantly.

Vada glanced over at you, a flicker of panic in her eyes. She leaned in close to murmur in your ear, "Shit, I forgot my wallet. You got yours?"

You quickly reached into your pocket and pulled out your student ID, holding it out to the skeptical cashier with a slightly trembling hand. "Here," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm 18."

Roy snatched the ID from your hand, examining it closely under the bright fluorescent lights of the checkout counter. He peered at it for what felt like an eternity, his eyes darting back and forth between your photo and your face.

Vada shifted nervously beside you, her hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. You could feel the tension radiating off of her, and you knew she was just as anxious as you were.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Roy let out a gruff "Hmph" and handed your ID back to you. "Alright then," he said, ringing up the condoms and placing them in a small plastic bag. "That'll be $14.99."

Your eyes widened at the price, and you couldn't help but mutter "Damn" under your breath as you fished out a crumpled $20 bill from your wallet. You handed it to Roy, watching as he made change and placed it in your palm.

Vada glanced over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Guess condoms aren't cheap," she murmured, taking the bag from Roy's hand and tucking it into her backpack before he could see the contents.

Roy handed you your change, and you quickly shoved it into your pocket, eager to get out of there. As you turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You'd done it. You'd actually bought condoms. Together. You deserve a big pat on the back.

—

You sat on the couch with Vada, her family surrounding you. Patricia and Carlos were engrossed in some boring talk show, while Amelia was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, her nose buried in her phone as usual. Vada was lounging beside you, her thigh pressed against yours.

Every so often, Vada would glance over at you, her eyes glinting with a secret message. Each time, your heart would skip a beat, knowing that she was thinking the same thing you were - that once everyone was asleep, you'd finally have the chance to be alone together, to take things to the next level.

You tried to focus on the TV, but it was impossible to concentrate on the inane chatter and canned laughter. Your mind was racing, imagining all the things Vada might do to you once you were finally behind the closed door of her bedroom. You'd never been this nervous or excited before, and you could tell Vada was feeling the same way.

As the night wore on and the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, you could feel your anticipation growing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Patricia stood up and stretched. "Alright, everyone, it's getting late. Time for bed."

Amelia marked her page and set her book aside, standing up and heading for the stairs without a word. Patricia followed after her, flicking off the living room lights and leaving you and Vada in the dim glow of the TV.

The second they were out of the room,

Vada grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you off the couch, leading you out of the living room and down the short hallway to her bedroom door. You could hear the distant sounds of her family moving around in the kitchen and bathroom as they got ready for bed.

As soon as you were both inside Vada's room, she shut the door behind you. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of LED lights that she can’t live without.

Vada turned to face you, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she backed towards the bed. "Finally," she murmured, her voice low and breathy. "I thought they'd never go to bed."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry with nerves and anticipation. "I know," you whispered back, taking a step towards her. "I was starting to go crazy out there."

Vada reached out and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion. She tossed it aside, leaving her wearing just a simple black bra and a baggy pair of shorts.

Vada grinned at your reaction, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Like what you see?" she teased, doing a little twirl to show off her exposed midriff and the way her shorts hung low on her hips.

You quickly covered your mouth, trying to stifle the moan that had threatened to spill out at the sight of her. "Vada," you hissed, feeling your face flush hotly. "You can't just... I mean... wow."

She laughed, a low, sultry sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Wow, huh?" she repeated, smirking as she took another step towards you. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you speechless.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice again. "It's not every day I see you half-naked," you pointed out, your eyes still roaming over her exposed skin appreciatively.

Vada paused for a moment, glancing around her room. "Shit, where did I put that bag?" she muttered, rummaging through the clutter on her desk and nightstand.

You watched as she searched, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as the anticipation built. Finally, Vada let out a triumphant "Aha!" and held up the small plastic bag, a grin spreading across her face.

She tossed the bag onto the bed and turned back to you, a wicked glint in her eye. "Found them," she said, reaching out to grab the hem of your shirt.

In one swift motion, she pulled it up and over your head, leaving you standing there in just your bra. Your skin tingled as the cool air hit you, and you couldn't help but shiver slightly.

You pulled Vada into a heated kiss, your lips moving eagerly against hers. She melted into you, her hands roaming over your back and tangling in your hair. You stumbled slightly as you walked her backwards towards the bed, your hearts racing in sync.

Vada fell back against the bed with a soft "Oof", pulling you down on top of her. She looked up at you, her brown eyes dark with desire in the low light of her bedroom. Her chest was heaving, her breathing already growing heavier as the anticipation built between you.

You hovered over her, one hand braced on the mattress beside her head while the other trailed lightly down her side, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your fingertips.

Vada reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, tossing it aside carelessly. As her breasts were revealed to you, you couldn't help but let out a small, humorous whimper at the sight of her perfect, soft mounds. You were definitely fully hard at this point.

Vada smirked up at you, a wicked glint in her eye as she noticed your reaction. "Like what you see?" she teased, arching her back slightly to push her chest up towards you.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, silently cursing yourself for letting that noise slip out.

Vada's eyes raked over your body as you stripped off your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear. She licked her lips, a hungry look in her eyes as she took in the sight of your curves. Her gaze lingered on the bulge in your underwear, and she couldn't help but smirk.

She reached out, trailing a finger along the waistband of your underwear. You shivered at her touch, feeling your heart race in anticipation.

"Do you want to...?" Vada asked, nodding towards the foil packet you'd placed on the bed beside you.

You nervously nodded at Vada, your mouth dry with anticipation. "Yeah, I do," you managed to say, your voice cracking slightly. "Why don't you take off your shorts and panties while I... while I get this on?"

Vada smirked, shimmying out of her shorts and panties in one fluid motion. She tossed them to the side, leaving her completely bare before you. You tried not to stare too obviously at her naked lower half, your heart pounding in your chest.

With trembling fingers, you reached down and pushed your underwear off, freeing your aching, hard member. It sprang up, throbbing and ready. You picked up the foil packet, trying to tear it open with shaking hands.

It took longer than you would have liked to roll the condom onto your length. You fumbled with the latex, trying to smooth out the wrinkles and get it to sit properly.

Vada watched you with an amused smile, shaking her head as you struggled to get the condom on. "You're such a goof," she teased, a playful smirk on her lips.

Unable to resist teasing you further, Vada pulled you back on top, reached down and grabbed your hard, covered length in her hand. She guided you to her entrance, trying to line you up. But in her enthusiasm, she missed a few times, causing you both to let out frustrated grunts.

Finally, after a few failed attempts, Vada managed to position you at the right spot. With a gentle push of her hips, she guided you inside her, letting out a low moan as you entered her slowly.

You gasped as you felt her tight, wet cunt enveloping you. It was a foreign but incredible sensation, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You both were technically virgins until this very moment, so the new sensations and experiences were overwhelming for both of you. Vada let out a soft whimper as she felt you enter her for the first time, her body tensing slightly at the unfamiliar intrusion.

"Ah..." she gasped, her fingers digging into your shoulders as she tried to relax her muscles. "That feels... intense."

You nodded, your breathing growing heavier as you fought the urge to start moving, to start thrusting into her. "I know," you said, your voice strained.

Vada bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted to the new sensation of having you inside her. "It hurts," she admitted, her voice soft and breathy. "But it also feels really good."

She wiggled her hips slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. The movement made you both gasp, and you felt a jolt of pleasure course through your body at the sensation of her walls clenching around your length.

Vada looked up at you, her brown eyes dark and hazy with a mix of discomfort and desire. "I think... I think I'm ready," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can start moving now."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you slowly began to move inside Vada. You started with shallow thrusts, not wanting to hurt her any more than necessary. She let out a shaky moan, her fingers digging into your back as she tried to match your rhythm.

As you both grew more comfortable, your thrusts became deeper and more confident. The bed creaked softly beneath you with each push and pull of your hips. Vada's breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with your movements.

"Ah... that feels so good," she gasped, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you closer. The new angle allowed you to go even deeper, and you both cried out at the intense sensation.

You leaned down to capture Vada's lips in a heated kiss, pouring all of your passion and desire into it. She kissed you back just as fervently, her tongue dancing with yours as you lost yourself in the moment.

Your heart raced as you continued to move inside her, chasing the building pleasure. You knew you wouldn't last long, not with how incredible she felt wrapped around you like this.

You tried your best to control your breathing, to focus on the sensation of Vada's body beneath you and the soft moans spilling from her lips. But it was incredibly difficult to last, especially for a first time.

You could feel your climax fast approaching, your body tensing as the pleasure became almost too intense to bear. Panting heavily, you looked down at Vada, your eyes filled with desperate need.

"Vada," you gasped out, your voice strained with urgency. "I... I don't know if I can hold back much longer."

Vada's eyes fluttered open, hazy with her own building pleasure. She nodded, a breathless moan escaping her lips. "It's okay," she said, her voice barely audible. "Touch me... touch my clit. I need... I need to come too."

You reached down between her legs, your fingers finding her sensitive nub. As you touched it, Vada cried out, her back arching off the bed. You rubbed it in slow, firm circles, feeling her body start to tremble beneath you.

"That's it," she panted, her hips grinding against your hand as you touched her. "Don't stop... I'm so close too."

You rubbed Vada's clit more insistently, feeling her body start to quake and quiver beneath you. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, spurring you on. Your hips moved more urgently, driven by the need to bring her to the edge.

"Yes, yes!" Vada gritted out, her voice breaking as her pleasure crested. "Don't stop, I'm... I'm gonna... ahhh!"

Her body went rigid, her back arching off the bed as she came undone. You felt her walls clench around you rhythmically, squeezing your length in pulsing waves. The sensation was too much, and with a strangled cry, you let go.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking as you spilled yourself into the condom. You collapsed on top of Vada, both of you panting and covered in sweat. You lay there for a long moment, basking in the afterglow of your first time.

“Wait.. your family— do you think they heard?”

-

The next morning, you both stumbled into the kitchen, feeling exhausted but incredibly satisfied. Vada was still in just a t-shirt and panties, while you had thrown on the first clothes you could find - her oversized band shirt and a pair of pajama shorts.

Patricia looked up from the stove where she was making breakfast, her eyes widening slightly as she took in your disheveled appearances. But instead of scolding you, she just smiled knowingly.

"Good morning, you two," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Did you both sleep well?"

Vada blushed, busying herself with getting out plates and utensils. "Uh, yeah, it was fine," she muttered, avoiding her mother's gaze.

As you and Vada sat down at the kitchen table, Amelia looked up from her phone and grinned at her mother. "Hey Mom," she said, a smug smile on her face. "Remember that bet we made? About Vada and her... friend?" She nodded towards you, her grin widening.

Patricia chuckled, setting a plate of pancakes in front of each of you. "Oh, I remember," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Looks like you won that one, Amelia."

Amelia smirked proudly, holding out her hand expectantly towards her mother. "So, you'll give me the $5 now, right?"

Vada blushed even harder, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my god," she muttered, mortified that her little sister was rubbing her victory in all of our faces.

Patricia reached for her wallet and pulled out a crisp $5 bill, placing it in Amelia's eagerly waiting hand. Amelia snatched it up triumphantly, waving it in Vada's face.

"Thanks, Mom!" Amelia crowed, unable to wipe the grin off her face. "I knew it! I told you guys you were totally together."

You frowned in confusion, wondering how on earth Amelia and Patricia had figured out about you and Vada being together. Vada seemed just as perplexed and embarrassed by the revelation.

Patricia chuckled, a playful smirk on her lips as she watched your bewildered expressions. "Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "You two weren't exactly quiet last night."

Vada's face turned bright red, and she buried her burning cheeks in her hands. "Oh my god," she muttered, mortified. "Mom, seriously?!"

Patricia just laughed, shaking her head. "Well, it's not every day I have to hear my daughter and her girlfriend making love for the first time," she pointed out, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I mean, I'm glad you two had fun, but maybe try to keep it down a little next time, hmm?"

Amelia snorted, clearly delighted by Vada's embarrassment. "Wow, gross," she said, making a face. "I don't need to know about your sex life, Vada."

You quickly tried to change the subject, desperate to get the spotlight off of you and Vada's new relationship. "S-So, uh... what's the weather like out there today?"

—

REQUEST: i looooove your writing! would ever be open to doing a g!p reader x vada cavell, where it's both of their first times and they are cute and awkward together? maybe even the morning after they get discovered by parents/guardians and there's a cute morning scene? idk i think i'm just craving sweet happy sex. p.s. i think you're really cool

(thank you btw)

[honeybunnyale]

Sweet Pea l J. M.

w.c : 6k

t.w. : Dark Fic, Smut, Breeding Kink, Manipulation, Implied Age Gap, reader is short (like me 🙈) brief descriptions of Joel being possessive and violent towards others

a/n : Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only!

Summary : Joel’s the one. He's known since the moment he laid his eyes on you.

His hands were on your hips, moving past you and out of the horse stalls. It was a couple hours past mid-day, the sun was low and it was getting dark. You happened to be leaning against the only opened doorway, staring at the horizon from afar.

“Pardon, ma'am.”

He glances behind him as he apologizes, then his eyes widen.

You were a gorgeous little thing, even with a ratty shirt and jeans that seemed a size too big, it was like you glowed, even in the dimming golden yellow sun.

You smile shyly as he turned. It made his heart flutter. 

“No problem,” you respond softly, reserved and a little intimidated by the way he had brushed past you seconds before.

He opens his mouth, taking an instinctive step forward with his hand stretched outward, about to introduce himself.

“Hey, big brother,” Tommy greets sarcastically. He claps him on the shoulder, giving it a shake. Joel’s eyes keep themselves on you, making you look down at your shirt trying to find a stain that wasn’t there.

“Look who you found,” Tommy says slyly.

He introduces you to him. You only ever come out of the house every so often, helping around, keeping track of supplies, the like. Tommy gives your shoulder a friendly pat. 

“Recluse, this one.”

You shake your head, chuckling along. You really were, you still weren't used to it, people, especially this many at a time. But you knew your manners, you were personable when you did decide to make your appearance.

“She’s new here. You should show her around.”

Joel watches how your lips slightly part to take a sharp breath in and a long breath out, clearly a little nervous by the proposal. His stomach flips.  

You roll your eyes at Tommy. Then, you turn to Joel, waving your hand in dismissal. He was the most serious man here, he already had a reputation as one of the best patrolmen Jackson had, you didn’t want to bother and be faced with the same stern eyes others have dealt with.

“Really, no nee-“ you start.

“I’d love to.”

Tommy looks as surprised as you. “Alright then. It’s settled.”

You arch your brow, and Joel attempts a warm smile. A few seconds passed in an almost awkward silence but Tommy was slowly inching away, dragging along his brother so that they could discuss ‘things’ elsewhere. Most likely on the topic of scouting.

He pats Joel’s shoulder, turning his attention away, making him start walking, but he continues to look back at you. You look down shyly and he swears he heard angels sing.

You had to be his wife.

…

It didn’t take long to charm you. He was practically everything anyone would want in the post-apocalyptic world.

Strong, smart, quick witted and most of all possessive. It wasn’t really a demeaning quality nowadays. It was either lose what belonged to you or defend it with your life, no in between.

Everything was a constant battle to keep.

Now, you didn’t really have much outside of Jackson, you just happened to stumble upon the large walls, were almost threatened to be shot down by Maria herself, all with a pack and a pistol to your name.

She liked the way you responded to her questions respectfully, only requesting a meal and a bottle of water to be thrown for you to then be on your way.

You didn’t like trouble and you didn’t want it around you, so she let you stay.

To be wanted by someone like him was something you’ve never experienced before. You were alone most of the time in your journey across the states, you’ve never had companions of such serious nature before, none to stick around anyway.

You didn���t realize how good it felt knowing someone liked you enough to threaten to break someone’s fingers one by one just because of a passing remark they made about you, or the fact that he choked someone because they didn’t heed his warning of not pursuing you when you were clearly in discomfort.

Sure, you were a little worried his violence would then be used against you but with every taint of blood on his soul, he came back to your door, his eyes soft, his hands delicately pulling you to his chest and with the sweetest words he could muster falling from his lips.

——————————

"Stay close."

Your knees almost buckle from the clumsy way you land off his horse. You steady yourself on the saddle as you find your footing on the ground. Joel lands next to you.

You give him a look, glancing up at him as he smirks. 

"I always stay close," you retort. 

He squeezes your shoulder in passing, you follow after him.

You were one of the many patrollers in Jackson, with the task of lessening the thickening population of infected around the area.  The hoards have been tough, it was beginning to become too much at this point. 

Joel happened to be the one in charge of everyone patrolling, which also meant you had to follow everything he said.  And for the day, he asked Maria if it could only be the two of you.  He's been seeing less infected, it's summer, they usually start to increase during winter. She agreed but not before giving you both a knowing look.

You face heated at the implication she gave when she told you to not stay out too late. 

It was starting to become well known that you both were in a relationship, you'd get the comments, the vulgar ones especially, but the truth was, you haven't gotten that far, just kisses and rather handsy hugs at the most. 

"We're alone..." he says, glancing back at you from the corner of his eye.

You look around, you've strayed a little away from the main path, the designated path patrols were always supposed to take. You were always overly cautious. You liked following rules and guidelines. Your stomach was beginning to swirl in anxiety. 

"We are," you responded back, slightly distracted by your instinct to be on high alert. 

His arms wound themselves around your waist, his back hunching over until his head rests against your shoulder. You feel his warm breath against your neck making you shiver and freeze.

"Which is why we have to get back soon..."

He ignores you. He nips at your neck, pushing back the collar of the buttoned-up shirt he gave to you, exposing your bare shoulder.

"It's getting dark," you mumble. He nods and hums.

His tongue slides past his lips, over your collarbone. You swallow thickly.

"Let me fuck you, baby."

You step away quickly and turn, your brows raised to your hairline. Your eyes are widened like a scared deer’s. He steps closer and you step back. His face flickers in hurt and concern.

Your shoulders slump at his disappointment, you clear your throat.

"Sorry, I didn't - I just-“

He steps in front of you, his hands start to cradle your head. 

"Hey, what happened?"

You start to sweat, your whole body hot with embarrassment.  Would it affect how he saw you?  Most men were not so understanding of your decisions, they soon left, not caring enough to pursue you anymore.

Your head swirls with worry, questions of if he would become uninterested because of your choices. You purse your lips. You weren't willing to compromise, not even for him.

"I'm waiting."

His brows furrow. 

"Waiting," he nods as if he understood you but confusion still swirled in his eyes. "For what... exactly?"

You emphasize your point with your body, hunching your shoulders and gesturing with your hands in circular motions.

"I want my first time to be special, and with someone I'm with..."

You struggle to find your words.

"for life..."

His eyes widen, his head tilts slightly.

That was usually the turn off.  They told you how childish it was to wait for someone that might never come around or stick around for that matter. You start to inch away, your dreams crumbling and burning in your chest.

You really liked Joel, you thought he would be the one, it was too bad you couldn't exactly skip town to never see him again after this-

His grip on your shoulder tightens when you try to step back. He leans down, his eyes soft and flickering over your face full of shock.

"I'll wait. I'll wait as long as you need me to."

He sees your disbelief but with a nod and a kiss to your cheek, your face filled with relief, you smile widely and your eyes fill with tears. 

"Oh honey. Don't cry." 

He pulls you to his chest, massaging your back and pressing his lips atop your head.

"Sorry," you chuckle in between wiping your tears.  He chuckles back.

…

You bury your head in his back, closing your eyes tightly and sighing when his hand intertwined with yours on his stomach, the other gripping onto the reins.

Jackson was so beautiful; you often wonder how you got so lucky. 

You nuzzle your head further into his jacket. It smelled so much like him and you couldn't get enough. You could bury yourself in his scent.

He walks you home, which you share with an old woman and her dog. It was always awkward coming home, she was always in the living room, rocking in her chair sometimes just staring into the wall.

He's offered his house to you, there was room to spare and with Ellie on the loose, doing god knows what teenagers do now, it felt emptier than usual. 

You refused and now he finally understands. Partially. 

He figured if he kept on showing you how good he could be you'd let him in quicker.  He kissed you on the porch to your home messily.  He made you moan, though you tried to hide how good it felt to have his tongue lapping over yours.

He was planning on gradually building you up until you inevitably had to give in completely. 

He left you with your lips swollen, your chest heaving and your pupils dilated that night, his hand at your neck as he gave you a final peck good night. 

You pulled his jacket tighter around yourself.  He had given it to you as you walked over to your side of town, you were shivering, he said.

He couldn't let a woman freeze to death if he could help it, he whispered into your ear.

Now you lay in bed, his jacket strewn over your pillows as you were restless.  You were seeping between your legs. 

Shakily, you tilt your head to the side, your nose pressing against the worn leather and you moan. 

Then your hand reaches down, groping at your thighs teasingly. You bite your lip, reaching under your underwear, your fingers starting to circle over your clit. 

He's always so gentle with you, his hands so large when they press against your back or hold onto your waist. You gasp, spreading your legs under the sheets, swirling over your hood faster.

You close your eyes tightly, letting your imagination run wild.

Your chest heaves when you're done, your drool was pooling on his jacket, your cunt was twitching uncontrollably. You stare at the ceiling. That was one of the best orgasms you've had in a while. 

You flip to be on your stomach, throwing the rag you used to clean yourself off on the floor. You hug your pillows to you, the soft fabric of the inner lining of his jacket against your cheek as you sleep.

…

He invites you over to dinner at his house.  He had just refurbished his kitchen, he said he wanted to show it off.

Ellie opens the door, purses her lips and steps back, letting you in.  Before you could say anything, she walked away. You stand there with your plate of cake for a couple of seconds, watching as she walks up the stairs, probably going to Joel's small corner of records and his collection of music.

At least that was what you were telling yourself. 

You force yourself not to think about it too hard, she's always been distant with you for some reason. You thought she was just being protective of Joel.

You couldn't see Joel when you weren't around. You didn't see the way he bashed someone's head in because they spoke of how they would have liked you to give them a blowjob after a patrol.

She was young, she didn't understand most things about relationships. She was barely starting to get into that aspect of her life with Cat. But she knew that beating someone almost to death was going too far for a partner's dignity.

She didn't like the Joel you made him to be. So she didn't like you.

A hand at your waist startles you, Joel kisses the side of your head and you get on the tips of your toes so that he could kiss your cheek. 

"She's just trying to get used to it, she'll come around."

You hug him from the side, pecking his shoulder, your thumb massaging into his lower back. 

"Yeah..."

Dinner was pleasant at least, Tommy and Maria came over as well, bringing their own food.  You didn't have to watch your tongue around them; they didn't narrow their eyes at you whenever you showed any ounce of affection to Joel or inquired about their own lives.

You were in the living room, both brothers manning the sink and talking. Ellie already left to your disappointment.

Maria, sitting next to you near the fireplace, hushes you quickly, her hand at your thighs her eyes narrow inquisitively. She saw you as a sister already, especially since Joel wouldn't shut up about you and you were a great help in Jackson. Skilled with a gun too.

You look around in confusion, but she just slaps your shoulder. She ticks her head to the door leading to the dining room.

"So... When are you gonna ask?" you hear Tommy's muffled voice from the kitchen. 

Your eyes widen.

"Tommy."

"You've had that damn ring for months-"

You slam your glass on the coffee table and you clear your throat. They instantly quiet. Maria eyes you worriedly. 

They come out, Tommy patting Joel's back.  Maria and Tommy leave quickly thereafter, leaving you both on the couch.

…

"Did you-"

"I didn't."

You lean your head against his shoulder, his hands tugging yours on his lap.

"Would you?" he asks, leaning his head against yours. 

Your eyes flutter at the thought, you glance at your hand, enveloped in his hands. You imagine a glint on your ring finger. You bite your lip.

Would you? You didn't exactly know, you were young, you wanted a couple more years, but he's older, and there was always a threat of danger around.

You sit up, ignoring his question. His mouth opens to say more but you shush him, kissing him gently.

He almost immediately turns his body to you, gripping your waist and lifting you when you don't let up.

He has you on his lap, his hands at the back of your neck keeping you in place. He groans with his mouth open, his tongue sliding against yours, squelching as he enters your mouth desperately.

“So good, honey,” he mumbles, moving down your jaw, his eyes glancing above to see your eyes closed in bliss. His hand was large, he could almost wrap it around your throat.

You moan as he sucks on your neck.

You avoided the question. Why? Was it because you weren't sure about him? He didn’t like how the other men were eyeing you, how much you talk to them and give them attention.

You were leading them on, how could they not get that you belonged with him?

He kisses you harder, you yelp in surprise before reciprocating his vigor.

You liked kissing, you liked kissing Joel, your man, so he says he is. He jokingly calls the other men in Jackson boys, something about not being able to please you properly.

Of course they were all jokes, you laughed as he went on and on about the flaws of the youth and how they treat their partners nowadays.

You’ve kissed before, kissed plenty of your past ‘lovers’, but it felt different with Joel, he made you feel something else and you’ve never wanted it to get more heated than this.

It was special and passionate. Made you want to tear his clothes off. You refrain from it ever going that far, your hand tightening over his shirts and jackets, gripping so tightly your palms hurt. And he noticed, he always did.

He lays you on his couch, your head positioned on one of his cushions. He starts unbuttoning your shirt, you stop his hands.

"I just want to make you feel good, I'm not gonna take my pants off," he chuckles.

You glance down at his crotch, he was straining against the denim of his jeans, you bite your lip in contemplation. It must hurt.

You nod, trying to relax as you sink further into the couch. He undoes your button shirt, exposing your breasts, and mouthing along them towards your stomach, unbuckling your belt slowly. 

He pushes his head between your thighs, licking a stripe up your cunt. You grab onto his head, threading your fingers through his soft brown and grey tufts. 

You get lost in the feelings around you, biting your lip, and moving your hips into his mouth kissing and licking around your folds. 

His thick fingers plunge into you, he stares up at you, your hands moving to cup your breasts, your own fingers teasing around your nipple. 

He starts thrusting his digits into you and you gasp. Your fingers were much smaller than his. You imagined his cock instead, his body looming over you as he starts pounding into you.

"Fuck, sweet pea," he groans, you were clenching down on his pointer and middle fingers so hard, your legs tremble so harshly as you release.

He pulls out, his hand covered in you as you try to catch your breath. You sit up slowly, dazed. He stares at you, smiling. Then he presses his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

He could tell your mind was numbed, you lifted your forearm to cover your face as you panted heavily. Your pussy glistened and he could feel himself throb harder than ever in his pants, his boxers were probably left with wet spots of pre. 

But suddenly, you clear your throat, pulling your pants up and buttoning your shirt quickly.

"I should go," you say quietly.

Something felt wrong. You didn't quite know what yet.  He thought you were just embarrassed, flustered.

He follows you out the door, stopping you from going down the steps with a tight grip on your bicep. You chuckle awkwardly when he lifts his brow in question.

He leans in for a kiss, you reach from the tips of your toes, gripping onto his collar as his lips meet yours.

It sent a shocking feeling down your spine, you had to hold in a noise of pleasure and slap him on the shoulder teasingly, stepping back away from his porch and onto the steps of his house.

He eyes you, once more pecking your lips before letting you go. He watches from a distance, his elbows on the porch, making sure you got home safely.

You were so shy, it made him smile.

You didn't know the first thing about this. You think things were going too fast. The fact that he already had a ring months ago. It has barely been a year since you've met, less than that when he asked you on a date.

And then he fingered you on his couch, in his house. 

You just had sex with Joel Miller. And it wasn't how you expected it to be at all. At least, there was no tender and fairytale-like feeling to it like you've imagined.  It was heated, messy and desperate.

You got hot thinking about it, unbearably so, so much that you had to try to replicate his 'actions' on yourself almost every night, yearning for the time of day you could at least just touch his hand and be sent back to his fingers working you in and out repeatedly. 

You avoid him the next few days in your inner confusion, always seeming to be busy, always needing to do something, alone.

You only had time for small chats, kisses and the like. Then something else would happened and you started avoiding even those small moments. His anxiousness was slowly building up every day, and the fact that you started avoiding him like the plague made him come to a final decision.

His hand stops you, pulling your shoulder back so that you could face him directly.

“Where you goin?” he asks, with a little humor behind his voice.

You purse your lips avoiding his gaze.

“Gonna discuss some things with Maria.”

He hums.

“I’m making your favorite tonight.”

It was awkward, the silence makes you want to run and hide. His brows furrow, he looks over you worriedly.

“I’m sure Ellie will love it just as much as I do,” you murmur. 

He frowns. His eyes suddenly stern and glaring.

“I asked Maria if you could have a night off.”

You don’t respond. His grip on your shoulder tightens.

“Ellie has to leave after, most of it will be just the two of us.”

He thinks you don’t want to go because of Ellie. He must believe that because of the last communal event hosted by Maria that led to your early departure. 

It was partially true, she’s been downright mean, purposefully ignoring you when you call for her or wave hello, making sure she never patrols with you around, even going as far as to tell you Joel could do much better and that you were just a distraction, temporary. 

All in front of people you knew and people who you grew to see as friends and family. 

You hated that night, you just stood there and took it as she went on about your every flaw. Joel was none the wiser though, he was out patrolling with the rookies, and for that you’re grateful. It would have been even more embarrassing to have her father figure scold her for you. 

You didn't want to be seen as an evil stepmother, so you left quickly after, waving off the worried looks, and the pointed glares at Ellie. 

"It's fine. Teenagers," you had said. Right?

But you mainly didn't want to go because of what started the topic of your relationship in the first place. 

“D’you know he sent someone to medical?”

You stop chewing your food. She was staring directly at you. Of all of the things Ellie starts with to finally talk to you.

“What?” you ask, failing to understand the sudden topic change.

She glances up at you. The rest of the table quiets down.  You were out in the open, almost everyone from the community at a small gathering to celebrate another year of living.

Joel decided he wanted to go out and scavenge around and bring Jesse with him since it was safer than usual.

“One of his eyes is useless now, he can barely walk.”

She continues to spoon mouthfuls of food in her mouth, talking to you from the other side of the table to your left.  It started off with teasing remarks about you and Joel, how he's practically stuck to your side at this point, how much younger he looks since Tommy introduced you both.

"Ellie…" Tommy warns.

Everyone heard about that. Joel went haywire on one of the newly received members of Jackson. The story was that he was going to steal some weapons and trade them off to nearby bandits.

"Y'know why?"

"Ellie."

"He asked if you were single."

You stare at your hands now tightening over your utensils. Your stomach was pinching and you felt your legs start to bounce in nerves. You weren’t used to so many eyes on you. 

You've talked with him a couple times, he was your age which you quickly bonded over, he was shy and at times very bashful.  It was shocking to hear that he was planning on betraying everyone, that he was planning an attack.

"He said you were very kind and that he was looking to settle down," she emphasizes.

Your face fell. Joel wouldn't do that. He had a good reason, he had to. But the look on Tommy's face threw you off. It was sullen, shaking his head as if he were embarrassed for Joel.

"Don't act like you didn’t know."

She puts her fork down aggressively. You want to puke.

"Ever since you came around, he's been different. It's all your fault."

Truth was he's always been like this.  He's always been overprotective to a fault, possessive. Ellie was taking on the same effects, his actions of 'care' and 'love' influencing her to react more aggressively.  

All she's been taught is to fight for the people you care about, shedding blood and ending lives.

Your breath caught in your throat when she stood, holding her utensil like a weapon, her body about to lean over the table. For a few regrettable seconds, you were scared of her. 

You wince when she’s immediately being pulled down by a friend, Dina, at her side.  She was soft on her you noticed, always has been, and now she sits down complacently. 

You stare slightly half amazed, half mortified at the way you had, for a brief moment, compared yourself to them, you and Joel, Dina and Ellie.

The rest of the night felt like a blur and Joel had asked you the next day why you didn't wait for him to come back before leaving. 

You just felt sick to your stomach and that wasn't exactly a lie.

…

“Marry me.”

It was posed as a command, a hint of a question giving you a semblance of choice. The dinner he had practically forced upon you was meticulously planned. He was with you all day, he sent you home to change into something nice, a dress that was a little too tight but the only dress you had nonetheless. 

He picked you up thirty minutes later, waiting outside your door with flowers to lead you to his home. 

It wasn't surprising, the whole set up was very romantic, Ellie was nowhere in sight, he trimmed his beard a little. 

You stare at your plate.

"Sweet pea,"

It started off as a joke, you were so small compared to him. His little sweet pea. His little flower. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to have children with you."

Children. You've discussed it maybe once or twice. It started off as a comment on how adorable you'd look with a baby bump. Your face had heated at that so much you had to force yourself to stop thinking about it further.

It slowly evolved to his hand running over your stomach in circles, finding him in the living room reading baby books and ultimately finding a newly built crib which he quickly explained was for someone else who was about to have a baby. 

It was still kept in the garage, you saw some of the parts scattered along his workshop. He always ignored the look you gave him when you lifted a piece, hidden in a corner of the room.

It was sweet, and then others started commenting on the fact that you were still young and that protection is hard to come by nowadays and that getting pregnant by accident was always a possibility. 

You didn't have to worry about it, but you thought of it. The idea of Joel accidentally finishing inside of you made you squirm. You were so conflicted. On one hand it was alarming.

But sometimes, when you were alone and thinking of Joel you imagined your slick being his cum, dripping down your folds as you laid in bed. You wanted him to pump you full.

You stare wide eyed as he kneels in front of you.

“We’d raise ‘em right,” he chuckles.

His knees were starting to hurt, his hands trembling at your lack of response.

You were spacing out, your head a mess with possibilities. Would he turn more violent if you refused? Would he if you accepted?

But at least then you could ease him. Might even be able to get him to stop threatening people entirely.

If you were his, who else would he have to compete with?

“Okay.”

He smiles, you smile back.

“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly.

You nod.

“Yeah.”

…

The bed creaks loudly, you fear it might snap in half. He was on his knees, thrusting sharply. Your legs are spread wide open.

He had taken you upstairs the second he slid the ring on your finger. It glinted when you gripped onto his shoulder, grinding against his erection.

He was mouthing your neck, his fingers prodding over your cunt under your dress.

“I wanna be stuffed full of your cum, Joel.”

His heart stuttered, his erection pulsing at your whine. You yelp when he pushes you on your back, desperately trying to take his clothes off his body, palming at your breast under the soft fabric of your sundress.

He tsks you now, shushing your incessant whines and moans, soothing his palm over your soft belly.

“You can barely fit me inside of you darlin’. Gonna have your belly swell with just my cum.”

Lifting your legs, he bends you in half, the backs of your knees now on top of his shoulders.

“How are you going to carry a baby for me when your body is so small?”

The bed creaks, you fear the frame might snap in half. He pushes into you as much as he could, pulling out and doing it all over again. You had tears running down your eyes, drool dripping down the side of your mouth. 

He was building you up for what felt like hours, stressing the fact that he didn't want you to get hurt from his oh so thick cock. First, he used his mouth, then his fingers. 

And when he pushed himself into you, spreading your legs wide and looking at you as if you were the most unbelievable thing to have happened in his life you almost choked a scream. 

It was so warm, hard but his skin was so soft.  His balls pressed against your ass when he bottomed out with a groan.  It was an adjustment to get used to, it was a pressure you squirmed to and winced at whenever you shifted your hips, but his hand held you in place, your hands finding themselves on his shoulders when he thrust shallowly. 

You let out such pretty moans when his cock was in you, he noticed.  It was breathy, it was more natural than your self contained ones, or at least the ones you tried to contain to a minimal level of sound.

When he had started moving, his hands on either side of your waist you lost it.

"Joel-" you choke out. 

You press your head against his pillows, they smelled like him, they smelled so good.  You moan as if you hummed, as if you had just smelled the most exquisite sweet in the world.

His thumb presses against you, you arch your back at the sting. You were overstimulated, your clit already swollen and throbbing from the past times he's made you cum.

You grab his hand, almost pushing him away.

"I need to feel you-please."

He releases your legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist, before you could utter a word.

"I want to fill you up darlin'."

You squirm, his hands go back to your cunt, prodding back at your clit. 

"Wanna make your belly swell, mama."

You squeeze around his cock.

"See you want me to. Just one more and I'll fill you up just like you need."

You sink further into the mattress, your body feeling as if it weighed a ton, your limbs tingling and your back at a permanent arch.

You let him rut into your pussy, his fingers play with your clit. Animalistic groans and grunts fill the room, your half moan and whimpers accompany it.

Your nerves shoot, it feels as if a current of electricity passes through your body. He leans forward, holding onto you as you convulse, your throat closing and threatening to let out a scream.

You hold onto him after, limbs achy, worn out. Backs and chests sweaty, his cum shifting inside you when he adjusts his position in bed.

He liked being on top of you, as if he could stop you from leaving by his sheer size. He also liked to keep his breaths with yours, as if he could make your heartbeats sync.

You smile into the side of his head, running your fingers in his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. He moans exaggeratedly, kissing your neck then briefly lifting himself up so that he could see your face.

Your hands rub down his chest, rubbing circles, all while smiling. He could tell he tired you out, your eyes were droopy, almost closing by themselves.

“Was it all you imagined, sweet pea?”

It felt good, he felt really good. He hooked you on it, the feeling of impassioned euphoria. Deep and carnal love and possession of a partner’s body and mind.

You chuckle in wonderment, as if you couldn’t believe what had happened. Your lips were soft against his. Delicate in the way you pulled them apart to slide your tongue next to his.

He liked the fact that he was your first and with the glint of your ring, prominent on your finger, he was most definitely your last.

He tears up, his head buried in your shoulder. He whispers his gratitude like prayers, and you eventually slump from fatigue.

His hand rubs up and down on your stomach, his mind racing with thoughts of you already showing by your wedding day.

——————————

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! Comments, reblogs and asks are so very much appreciated!

Asks and requests are open as well!

-Alejandra 💋🐇

[corroded-hellfire]

I was just thinking of them like moving house and there being boxes all over the place as they’re packing. Reader getting a little stressed, walking into the living room and finding Eddie sat in the floor with Eliza propped up on his knees instead of finishing off whatever task he was meant to be doing. Reader gets annoyed, he senses there’s something more than moving day stress going on. He stands and Eliza reaches for reader and Eddie holds the pair of them and asks her what’s really upsetting her, reader admits she’s feeling sad about leaving their current place because it was Eliza’s first home. She apologises and says he probably thinks she’s silly. He says of course not, it’s sweet…she’s *wrong* but it’s sweet. Reader is confused and then Eddie clarifies by holding her close and so lying his fingers across her stomach saying “THIS was her first home” Or something like that 😆 IDK the thought of Eddie being so cute about it made me all emotional 🥹 - Requested by the lovely @joejoequinnquinn

I know you requested this so long ago but I knew exactly where it needed to come in this story! I hope you like this sweet little blurb 💕

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can.”

Eddie grins as Eliza’s small hands smack against his. Ever since one of her preschool classmates introduced her to this game, it’s all she’s wanted to play.

“Roll it.”

Eddie copies her arm motions of rotating them around each other. She adjusts how she’s perched on his lap as the two of them sit on the floor.

“Pat it.”

Both of them tap their fingers against the palm of their other hand. The boxes that your husband’s back is resting against shift from his movements.

“Mark it with a ‘B.’ Put it in the oven for baby and me!”

“Yay!” Eddie cheers, taking her hands in his and shaking them back and forth.

“Again?” Eliza asks, looking up at him with those large brown eyes that he uses on you all the time.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer before you walk into the room and sigh when you see them lounging amongst a pile of boxes.

“I thought you guys were packing up the bookshelf,” you say, rubbing your hand across your forehead in frustration.

Eddie lifts his arm and points in the general direction behind the boxes at his back.

“All done,” he says.

“All done!” Eliza echoes.

Your hands come to rest on your hips as you look around the mostly packed-up living room. Boxes are scattered around the space, a mountain of them particularly bunched up behind the couch. They’re all labeled with black permanent marker, the handwriting from one of the five people in the house who have been hard at work on packing. Eliza’s scrawl might be the hardest to decipher but it’s the easiest way for her to contribute when she begs to help.

“Well, what about the DVDs in the entertainment unit? Or the video games?”

Eddie’s brow furrows as he takes in your hunched shoulders and tense posture. Gently, he moves Eliza off of his lap and pushes himself to his feet. A strained groan escapes his lips as his back cracks from the movement. He steps in your direction but Eliza reaches you first and lifts her arms.

You give your daughter a strained smile as you bend down to scoop her up. It’s harder for her to sit comfortably in your arms with your bump growing more and more. In fact, you feel bad that soon you’re not going to be able to lift Eliza at all due to your third trimester creeping closer.

Eddie reaches the two of you and tilts his head as he looks at you. You don’t return his gaze, your annoyance growing as you feel like you’re being inspected.

“What?” you snap.

Eliza frowns and Eddie sighs at the terse tone.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, taking another step closer. He rests one hand on your back and the other on Eliza’s. “What’s going on, hmm? What’s really bothering you? I know it’s not the movies or games.”

Tears flood your eyes and you do your best to swallow them down. You rest your head against Eliza’s and take a deep breath.

“I’m just sad,” you admit in a whisper.

The little girl wraps her arms around your neck and the kind act causes tears to fall.

“Why sad, Mama?” she asks in a soft voice.

You lift your head and press a kiss to her curls.

“Sad leaving this house,” you say, looking over and finally meeting your husband’s eye. He gives you a sympathetic smile. “There are a lot of good memories here. Got married while we lived here. Liza’s first home.”

“Aw, baby.” Eddie gently cups the back of your head and presses a kiss against your forehead. “I know, it’s hard. We’ve had really great times here. And we’re going to have really great times at the new house.”

You nod and sniffle, causing Eliza to gently wipe your cheeks with one of her small hands. She kisses right in front of your ear and you give her a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry,” you say and shake your head. “You must think it’s silly.”

“Hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s voice is strong as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. In fact, I think it’s really sweet. You’re wrong about it being Eliza’s first home, though.”

“What?” you ask as Eliza questions, “Huh?”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and lowers his hand to lightly rub across your bump.

“This was her first home. Just like it’s the twins’ first home now. And you’ve made such a nice, warm place for all of them.”

You give him a watery smile.

“Right?” Eddie gives you a bigger smile in return, hoping to lift your spirits a little more.

“R-Right,” you admit with a nod.

Eliza reaches up and starts rubbing from your forehead onto the top of your head. It takes you a moment to realize what she’s doing; she’s trying to soothe you the same way you soothe her by smoothing her curls back and away from her face.

“And we found such a nice house,” Eddie continues. “Right, Lize?”

“Yeah!” she cheers. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief at her excitement because the four-year-old was not a happy camper when she first learned you’re all moving. “It’s so big!”

“Well, it’s gotta be!” Eddie pokes her tummy. “There’s gonna be five of you kids!”

“Oh boy,” you exclaim, still finding it hard to believe that you’re going to be a family of seven.

“My room has a pretty window!” Eliza reminds you.

“I know! You get to look at the big backyard,” you reply.

“And I don’t have to share a bathroom with my stinky brothers!”

Both you and Eddie laugh at that. The master bedroom, Eliza’s, and the twins’ room are all upstairs in the new house while Ryan and Luke are downstairs—by their choice, sort of. They actively pleaded to have the lone two rooms farthest from their parents. It made you both immediately suspicious but since you need to keep the youngest ones closest to you, you had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “They can keep their own smelly bathroom down there clean, right?”

“Right!” She nods her head. “Is gonna be good, Mama.”

“I know it is, sweet pea.”

“So,” Eddie says, clapping his hands together, “should we box up those movies?”

Eliza holds a hand out in his direction.

“Marker, please.”

[dr-solomon]

blood in the water, everyone wants her

game synopsis: While dirty truth questions are answered on the table, reader gives a head to a random person under the table. If the person can be guessed by one of the others, the guesser receives $50 from him. If he cannot be guessed until cum, everyone gives him $100.

w: ot5 × f!reader, pretty much blow job, dirty talk, i mean DIRTY talk, alcohol, dollism, ambitious boys, bad boys, sweet boys, orgasms - can't orgasms, cum eating, different tastes, dirt dirt dirt

The red stars of the small home bar flow to create a burgundy pool under the table. The last thing you see before you fall to your knees is how late it is. And as you crawl, you wonder if there are five other boys in the world right now who have their zippers down at the same time.

It's a fact that somehow you enjoy this madness.

“Uh... What's a sex position that you've never tried that you're curious about?” Beomgyu grimaces as he flips through the pink magazine in his hand, reading indecisively.

“Kama sutra, bitch.” Yeonjun leans his head back. “Isn't there something more original?”

Beomgyu frowns as his eyes continue to wander through the questions.

“Gentlemen, there's a girl here.”

Soobin might be the most serious person at the table. “We're not going to talk about the fantasies you have while jerking off."

And yes, he was the one who gave you a long speech before you went under the table. He told you that you could leave whenever you wanted, that you could end the game whenever you wanted, that you could start whenever you wanted and end whenever you wanted, and tons of other things to make you feel comfortable while tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. He didn't expect you to agree to do that, and he probably didn't expect to feel you between his legs now.

“Where's the riskiest place you've done it?”

The question creates a small silence at first.

Soobin slowly crosses his arms over his chest and takes a deep breath as you take his already semi-erect cock in your hand.

“I am a trustworthy man.” he speaks, just before feeling your hot mouth.

Everyone must be looking dangerously into each other's eyes because they are not normally this quiet.

Your hands are on your lap, just the tip of Soobin's cock can fill your mouth nicely. Your teeth rest softly against Soobin's thick warm skin, you move your head a little and fill your mouth a little more.

“I don't know, family house?” Kai mumbles and a few seconds later everyone stops for a second as a wet sound comes from under the table.

You stop too when you remember that you have to be careful not to make a sound.

Yeonjun smirks, the fact that you're working quietly somewhere under the table is sweet to him.

“Office bathroom.”

And the third response is his.

“You must have a great story.” Taehyun comments.

“Yeah, the story of me not being a trustworthy man.”

Soobin doesn't even roll his eyes at this, no, he doesn't think he can do anything as your tongue grazes his tip and starts sucking again on the area you have wetted. You put your hands on his knees and you feel that he might even be holding his breath.

The sounds aren't if the best quality down there, but you can hear Soobin interrupting a sharp moan under his breath and swallowing.

You don't even need to touch his abs to feel how tight they are. He hasn't moved from his position since you started and his arms keep getting tighter and tighter across his chest.

Especially now when you start moving your head up and down.

He is not interested in any of the games going on over the table, his hips moving an inch or so where he sits and then stopping himself. There is no emotion in his face, nothing to give him away, but he shouldn't look so dull.

“At the college, in the professor's room.”

Taehyun keeps his eyes on Soobin as he responds.

“Professor's room?” Beomgyu's laughter echoes under the table, joking that he didn't know Taehyun liked old women. And Taehyun is distracted as he explains that he slept with a student, not his professor.

“Choi Soobin.”

But there's one person you left out.

“It's you, the trustworthy man.”

Yeonjun's bright smile is too cheeky as he makes others look at Soobin.

When your mouth stops as per the rules, Soobin takes off his glasses and presses his palm to his face. “Oh, god...” The thick sound coming out of his throat is almost terrifying. Now his body is partly more relaxed by the fact that he has nothing left to hide and it is increasing the intensity of his precum, but you can't touch him anymore. That must be why he tries not to look at your glossy lips.

Yeonjun chuckles at the money thrown in front of him with a perfect curse. “You're welcome.”

Not everyone knows how they found themselves in this game in the first place, but now things start to get fun.

You crawl in that direction as Beomgyu looks under the table, “Hey, love.” his hand touching your chin. “You might want to get some rest after Soobin.”

He means Soobin's big dick, but he doesn't seem to be thinking about it as he keeps his eyes on the dirty image of your mouth until the last word. Because it might be the hottest situation and image he's ever seen.

“I'm fine.”

There are a few murmurs around the table as your breathing is a little ragged and your voice now sounds sweeter than ever.

“Yeah?” Beomgyu smiles, the fact that you will soon be crawling to eat a new dick makes him bite his lip. “Okay.”

Yeonjun presses his lips together as he feels you crawl between his legs. You can see his hand curl into a fist on his knee for a second. But you're sure his face looks relaxed as he slowly spreads his legs a little further apart. You both know that if you weren't in this stupid game he'd want to press his cock against your lips.

“Next question?” Beomgyu's voice sounds thicker under the table.

“I'll ask.”

You pause at Yeonjun's unexpected response, but he seems quite confident as he gestures with his index finger for you to come closer and get to work.

As the stupid magazine is shoved next to his money, you put your hands on his knees and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

“Have you ever filmed a sex tape?”

There's something in his voice but you're not sure if the others will notice it. He must have already dispelled their suspicions when he took it upon himself to ask the question.

You can feel his legs contracting under your hands as your tongue plays with his tip like a cat.

“Come on.” It's clear that the harder you go, the more he's trying to talk to them. But it's also clear that he wants to focus on your mouth.

“I did.”

Kai joins Beomgyu's laughter as Soobin is the first to confess. As your mouth slowly takes every inch of him, you feel Yeonjun hiding a low moan behind the laughter. You swirl your tongue around him nicely and press it against his hardness.

“He's a perv, isn't he?”

Taehyun speaks looking directly at Yeonjun. You can see that his hand is balled into a fist again, because he knows that if it wasn't for Beomgyu, he would have been the one to expose Soobin just now.

You lift your head a little and start sucking on the tip again and this time you can taste the slightly salty flavor.

“I knew you were up to some shit with that mirror on your ceiling.” Yeonjun laughs looking at Soobin and starts to sweat a little as he puts his hands on the table, but he's determined to manage the conversation well.

His cock slides wetly between your lips, hardening with every movement of your head.

“I like to watch.” Soobin shrugs and says something about how he likes hes partner to be reactive, but you can't hear more than half of it. Because Yeonjun puts one foot between your legs and makes you sit on the thick leather of his shoe.

“Yeah,” Taehyun agrees with Soobin and all eyes turn to him. “I've done it a couple times myself, and I let them when they want to film it.”

“What? It's not just me? Gyu?” Kai says with a laugh, but anyone could swear Beomgyu has a collection already.

Yeonjun moves his foot a little in the following minutes as you lift your skirt up and start bobbing your head up and down. It's crazy how the thin fabric of your panties is the only sticky barrier between the two of you.

His liquid traces a hot path over your lower lip and down to your chin. He wants to burn the image of yourself fucking your mouth with his cock into his brain, he wants to look down there.

The feeling is too cruel.

So is this game.

“Yeonjun.”

So is Taehyun.

“It's you.”

“Fuck-” Yeonjun curses under his breath and immediately lowers his head to look at you, fuck the fact that he lost.

Rules.

His cock slips between your lips and slams into his stomach, and his eyebrows furrow with intense sensation. “Fuck, fuck...”

“You son of a bitch!” you hear Beomgyu laugh, talking something about his acting in the first place.

Yeonjun, not caring about anything, touches your chin with his index finger and follows the path of his liquid, bringing it back to your mouth. From below, you look into his eyes, open your mouth for his finger and he hisses as your tongue eagerly accepts it.

“Hey, hey...” But when Soobin grabs Yeonjun's wrist and stops him, he throws his head back. He swears some more. He's a little sweaty and there's a slight pinkness to his cheeks.

Then Soobin gently brushes your hair back as Yeonjun pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

The realization that you are about to make Yeonjun come, makes Kai lean over the table and look into your mouth... Under his dark eyes, Soobin asks you if you're going to stop, but no.

No, not yet...

Because Taehyun looked too hot when he hunted Yeonjun down and took his money.

Under the table, back in your half-dark world, the last thing you see is Taehyun bringing his beer to his lips.

The third time you agree to give head almost non-stop, like a warm sweet wind flowing from your body into the boys' bodies.

Something that will make each one of them want to take a personal care in you. The urge to keep you to themselves to let you know what a sweet slut you are.

The excitement that Yeonjun can give to your stomach just by touching your pussy reaches its highest level when you comes between Taehyun's legs.

He is full of surprises. He can make you feel both nervous and safe at the same time. The fact that he takes the game seriously from the start and is good at challenging whispers to you that you are moving on to perhaps the first person you will truly taste tonight.

When Taehyun doesn't even move his legs, as if he had already guessed that you were coming to him, a small smile forms on your lips that you don't know how it got there.

Your hands settle on Taehyun's thighs and slowly make a fist there, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him into your mouth.

“What is your favorite thing to do in foreplay?” Kai asks, looking into Beomgyu and Taehyun's eyes longer than anyone else. “I like to get a sloppy head.” leans back, giving his answer immediately after his question so he can get observant.

“Fingering.” You can hear how Yeonjun's voice changes after taking a blow job, sipping his drink like water.

“Fingering.” Taehyun repeats and one of his fingers crawls into your little fist. You open your mouth a little wider and move upwards from his tip, his thighs trembling for a second. He's relaxed, probably because only you can hear his breathing.

“Hand job?” Soobin pushes his glasses up his nose. “While kissing and stuff.” He looks like he's still mulling over the question. “Mutual touching is good too. I like eye contact.”

Taehyun's hardness goes further, brushing against your palate, using your head at a slow but intense pace. He sighs when you palm the part you can't take. You want him to trace lazy circles with his fingers on your pink cheeks as he whispers how good you feel.

Instead, your hands occasionally rub and resist holding each other.

“You can't say sixty-nine.” Kai speaks before Beomgyu has said anything and makes him laugh. You are impressed that Taehyun is not worried about the conversation.

Where the boys are ambitious, he is too relaxed.

And that must be his secret.

“Basically any position where he can eat the girl?” Yeonjun adds and Beomgyu gives one of those smiles where he bites his lower lip. “I can do it in any condition.” He says with a shrug. “I like boobs too.”

“Boobs, definitely.”

Soobin remembers that he can talk about how much he loves boobs and you start to jerk Taehyun's cock off into your mouth. His patience so far is really impressive but he wants to gently take your hand off his cock and wants to roll his hips into your mouth.

You stop the wet pace of moving your head by wrapping your lips around his tip and your hand starts working faster around his length.

Your tongue sways and swirls on his tip. The sharp breath he exhales must be quite hot. He bites the tip of his tongue and you see his hand tremble slightly as he rubs his palm against his pants.

The boob talk manages to keep the table occupied and you can feel Taehyun is close.

The excitement is almost dizzying.

You pull back to take a deep breath and his liquid drips a little on you and a little on the floor. When you take it in your mouth again, you go harder this time and now you let him drip into your mouth.

Taehyun slowly rests his elbows on the table, finally opening his mouth so as not to draw attention to himself before the chopping wave that is about to come over his stomach.

And the sound hits you first because you are closest to it.

It really hits you.

There's nothing wrong with his voice, nothing that you think is noticeable, and the thickness of his voice makes you press your knees together.

It's like he's telling you how well he could fuck your face if he wasn't in this game.

The hot breath escaping his lips after only half a minute doesn't matter anymore because Taehyun is the first one to cum in your mouth in the third round.

“Ah...” lays his head between his arms on the table, attracts all eyes.

“No.” Kai's eyes widen. “How-”

You swallow, but the hot liquid has already flowed past your chin and into the thin skin of your neck. Close your eyes and gasp with him as the taste of Taehyun remains on your tongue, numbing your whole body.

Everyone is baffled because no one thought there could be a winner in this game, but Yeonjun and Soobin certainly praise your little pink mouth as they profanely remark that it's a miracle Taehyun was able to keep quiet.

The arrogance of victory should have just been shining in his eyes, but Taehyun is quite gentle as he leans toward you. “Oh, pretty.” whispering as he finds your hands. Yeonjun watches as he presses his fist over his smirk.

“Pretty baby.” he takes you by the hands and sits you on his lap. Since he won, he can keep touching you, right? What a sweet prize.

There you are, sitting panting on one of Taehyun's thighs, too beautiful and wet.

And then there are the heads that rise eagerly to see you fall apart.

He's still breathing heavily from your intense moments and brushes his hair back a few times. His hand rests pleasantly on your waist.

The first $100 pushed in front of you tells you to turn your head to the right, Kai looks you in the eye the whole time he hands it over. Like if you ask for your wallet, he'll give it to you without a second thought. As if inviting you to sit between his legs for the last time.

Taehyun picks up two of the small hairpins which you left on the table in one of the more normal and innocent moments of the night.

“I wonder...” Yeonjun murmurs, drawing your attention to him, scratching his chin slowly. “What's your favorite position?”

His voice is deep, sounds a little sick with unfinished blowjob, but very sober.

And he takes your breath away by making everyone stop and look curiously into your eyes, as if they were waiting for him to ask this question. “I-”

Your cheeks are literally burning and your voice sounds worse than you expected.

When Taehyun's hands are in your hair, you squirm a little in his embrace. “I like... riding.”

They can't take your eyes off you, you often think that you are 'in danger.'

“Oh,” Beomgyu licks his lips as he leans a little on the table. “So, like some bounce, some praise, some grasping... Huh?”

The way he speaks is quite playful as he tilts his head left and right in sync with the words, and he's already accomplishing his goal, giving your lower body a new wave of warmth. You nod in agreement and he looks at your glowing mouth as his smile widens.

“Fuck, she's so sweet.” Yeonjun says, giggles.

They watch Taehyun's careful fingers comb through your soft hair and gently insert your hairpins.

Now your hair can no longer hide your face and there's some people who's happy about it.

You don't think anyone has noticed Kai's hazy eyes. All the intense eye contact you've been making with him all along is just a little secret between you two.

He wants to taste a little of this, but the possibilities have diminished.

Him or Beomgyu.

“Do you like loud or silent people in bed?”

And Beomgyu asks, looking into Kai's eyes when he can't feel you between his legs.

Your lower lip slips from Kai's vein, you start by wetting his cock, which is hard enough. He's already just said that he likes getting a sloppy head, and he believes that Beomgyu should keep his mouth shut a little while he takes just that.

“I guess it depends on time.” Soobin answers as thoughtfully as ever.

As the taste of Kai's precum covers your tongue, you open your mouth a little wider and place your hands on his inner thighs. The chair moves slightly, his thighs are too tense. He fidgets in his seat as if he wants to put you there after he cums in your mouth.

“Isn't silence a bit romantic?” Taehyun says, running a hand through slightly sweaty locks of his hair.

And Beomgyu shrugs. “Should they lie face down and be quiet?”

He draws attention to himself with his thick voice.

“Or close their pretty mouth and listen to you?”

He runs his eyes over everyone at the table as he tries a spicier way of asking about loud and silence.

You place your knees further between Kai's legs and the tip of his cock rests carefully against your throat. You keep sucking him like that to avoid making any gagging sounds. Kai starts to bounce his right knee. You are a little relieved to know that he is not usually noisy, but the low moan you just heard was absolutely heavenly.

Yeonjun combs his hair back. “Keep their pretty mouth open and listen to me?" answers and grins at the awkward look between Beomgyu and Kai.

“Okay, the awful dirty talkers are making themselves known.” Soobin grimaces, but you can hear in his voice that he's grinning too.

When you decide you've warmed him up enough, you slide Kai's head slightly towards your throat and his mouth opens. Despite the wolves around the table, he nonchalantly puts his hand on his thigh and you are a little nonchalant yourself as you hold his hand with need.

You try to swallow and when that increases the pressure around his cock for a second he squeezes your hand lightly. His hand is warm and sweaty, intertwining your fingers.

“Kai, what about you?”

You hear Beomgyu's voice.

It is deep. Almost insinuating.

You squeeze Kai's fingers nervously. It takes you a few seconds to realize that no one gives a fuck about the game anymore.

Kai doesn't hesitate to make wild eye contact with Beomgyu. When he lets go of your hand with everyone's eyes on him, your mouth stops in surprise.

"Loud."

He whispers sharply before pushing the table a little away.

A droplet from your mouth cools on your chin, your heart beats aggressively as if trapped in your chest.

Kai's fingers comb your hair back gently. First you look at his pink mouth and then at his eyes.

“You need to open your mouth more, pretty thing."

You don't know what time it is. You're not used to it being quiet here. Either one of the little bulbs of the led lamp is blinking or alcohol or...

Your knees, pressed hard together, relax at Beomgyu's touch. You're both kneeling in front of Kai and he strokes the back of your head, push your hair back for Beomgyu and pulls his hips back a little to let you breathe.

Beomgyu's warm mouth rests against the thin skin of your neck, you moan when he presses his tongue there. With Kai's tip resting on your palate, every sound you make sounds hotter than the last.

Beomgyu's one hand follows your thigh, remembering only that you haven't taken his cock in your mouth. “You don't like me?” asks quietly.

Something is wrong with his voice but you are already being manipulated. “I'm-”

“Ssh.” He grabs your chin and lifts it towards Kai and you wrap your lips around his cock.

Beomgyu leans into your neck again, the small smirk on his lips still there as his hand goes under your sticky panties. The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit as Kai starts to slowly roll his hips towards your mouth.

As soon as Beomgyu gets you to sit on his lap, he starts rolling your clit in a delicious rhythm.

“Ah-” your face rises up with a sweet moan.

You see three other shadows falling over you next to the man you gave a blowjob to and the one fingering you.

Hands in pockets, eyes dark.

It's hard to tell if you've fallen into a dream or a trap.

you were hot, stay with us 🎩!

©dr-solomon

[fairyhaos]

◈ over the hills and far away // boo seungkwan

seungkwan x gn!reader, 2.1k+ words

tags: requested by anon and @raevyng, established relationship, fluff, picnics, ducks, spring, cw for food mentions

notes: is that nursery rhyme reference in the title? why yes. yes it is. also this is pure 100% rambly fluff lol enjoy

summary: you and seungkwan go on a picnic date out to the park. that's it, thats the fic.

“did you know,” you say conversationally, swinging a basket by your side, “that ducks are partially nocturnal?”

seungkwan, walking side by side with you down the pavement, smiles and shakes his head. “no way. have you seen a duck before? they're the most non-nocturnal birds you'll ever see.”

you laugh, tugging seungkwan into your side by your intertwined hands. “well, they're not fully nocturnal. they're just often active at night also, ‘cause… hm, actually i don't know why. but i do know they like hunting and stuff at night because they have great night vision.”

a look of horror dawns over your boyfriend's face. “so i can still get chased by ducks even in the middle of the night?”

“just stay indoors at night, babe.”

“what?! so now the ducks are locking me inside my house?”

seungkwan wrinkles his nose in distaste, dramatically horrified by this revelation, before you laugh again and his face melts into a smile. he doesn't actually have anything against ducks, but he likes making you laugh. 

today, the two of you are out on a date. nothing special, but the weather is finally, finally warming up after what felt like the longest winter ever, and so you've decided to have a picnic date with your boyfriend in the park, under the blue sky and among the green grass. 

seungkwan's quite excited about this date, to be honest. he hates the cold months, so march is always like a godsend to him. and to top it all off, he's spending time with you, the literal love of his life. nothing can be better than that. 

“hey, don't swing the basket like that! be careful, you're going to ruin the apple pie i made,” seungkwan complains, just as the two of you arrive at the park. 

you look down at the basket, peering inside it worriedly. “it's fine,” you reassure. “also, what do you mean? we made this pie together.”

“you mean you bought the pastry and then sat there twiddling your thumbs whilst i did the actual baking?”

you beam brightly. “but i looked so pretty while you baked, didn't i?”

seungkwan rolls his eyes, fond. “i suppose.” he looks out at the park, surveying the green area. “where do you wanna sit, by the way?”

“oh!” your eyes light up, and you tug on your intertwined hands towards the willow trees framing the pond on the other side of the park. “come on. let's go over there.”

you make your way across the park, and once a spot has been found that you deem acceptable, seungkwan spreads out the picnic blanket he was carrying and then takes the basket from your hands, taking out all the food as you remove your shoes and kneel on the blanket. 

“be careful,” you echo his words from earlier, when seungkwan lifts the apple pie out of the weave basket. “you’re going to ruin the apple pie you made.”

seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and you giggle. 

“c'mon, kwan,” you say, shuffling forward, crossing your legs, “quick, get out the food. there's bread inside, and i wanna feed it to the ducks.”

at that moment, seungkwan fishes out the bag of bread, and your face lights up. you make a move to grab it from him, but he instantly draws back, holding up a hand to stop you.

“hey, hey, not yet,” he says, when you pout at him. “let’s eat first, hm? then you can feed the ducks as much as you want.” he gestures to the food he’s already taken out of the basket. “i worked so hard to prepare all of this, i don’t want it to just sit here sadly whilst you do something else.”

he looks genuinely very sad as he says this, corners of his mouth turned downwards at an adorable angle as his eyes melt with disappointment. you smile, endeared, happily settling down next to him again with a placating kiss on his cheek.

“okay, babe. let’s eat the food we made.”

“uh, actually, i made most of it.”

“nonsense. i had the very important role of sitting there and looking pretty.”

───────────── ‘🌿, 

if anyone asked you, you'd say that this outing, this activity right now—the sitting out in the park, eating sandwiches with your boyfriend underthe big willow tree—is actually part 2 of your date which started, like, a week ago. 

you've been patiently waiting (or, impatiently waiting, in seungkwan's opinion) for the weather to clear up so you can finally go out on that picnic date that you've been dying to have for ages. having a picnic with your boyfriend (a.k.a the most wonderful person on the planet) on a lovely pleasant day sounds like heaven, and you know that seungkwan feels the same way. 

(that's kind of why the two of you work so well together. you're kind of telepathically linked.) 

and so, when you'd checked the forecast a week ago and seen that today would be a delightfully sunny day, you'd jumped at the chance to finally begin preparing for the perfect park picnic date. in your opinion, there are very few things that are better than getting to sit and talk and eat with seungkwan as the spring breeze rustles the leaves on the trees and the sun shines merrily down on you. so for the past week, you've been very busily preparing for this date. 

for example, the spread of cheese and crackers you're currently feeding seungkwan? you cut them into flower shapes with him five whole days ago. 

“is it good?” you ask, as seungkwan chews thoughtfully through his mouthful, half of the cracker still in your hands.  

“not bad,” he says, slightly muffled, wiping the crumbs from his lips. “i liked the cranberry cheese more, though.”

your eyes light up, and you feed seungkwan the rest of the cracker. “right? i thought so too! let's buy more of the cranberry cheddar later.”

the two of you have been working on all this food for a week, together, and in your honest opinion, that time spent together counts as part 1 of your date. it's just… all quality time spent with seungkwan counts as a date, you think. you just love doing anything with him. 

currently, most of the food you've prepared is pretty much gone. both of you are pretty big eaters, and the pleasant weather has only increased your appetite. there's only the apple pie left. 

“alright,” seungkwan says, once the two of you have had time to fully prepare yourselves for the main event. he really did work hard on this pie, and he'll be damned if you don't get to appreciate it to its fullest. “i hope you're ready for the best thing you've ever had in your entire life.”

you laugh, adjusting yourself on the picnic blanket as seungkwan brandishes a serrated knife at the apple pie. it really is such a pretty creation, and you praise him for it now as he cuts you a slice. 

“you really worked so hard, i'm so proud of you,” you coo, smiling when his ears instantly turn red at the compliments. “this looks gorgeous, my love. i can't believe you did this.”

“well you better believe it, ‘cause i did,” seungkwan says, face red but his eyes shining. he places a slice onto your plate at the same time as he places a kiss onto the top of your hair. “and i hope it tastes as good as it looks, else i'm throwing myself into the pond.”

you laugh, picking up your place and inspecting the slice carefully. “have more faith in yourself, kwan. i'm sure this tastes amazing.”

with that, you lift your fork and take a bite of the pie, chewing very slowly as seungkwan watches you, expression pensive and anxious. 

your face freezes mid-bite, turning wide eyes to seungkwan and he freezes too, scared. you slowly resume chewing, and then after what feels like an eternity, you swallow and clear your throat. 

“oh my god. kwan, that's amazing.”

his face melts in relief so prominent that it's almost tangible, and you laugh. 

“you made me so worried there!” he complains, finally relaxed enough to finish cutting himself a slice. “i thought i did really badly or something.”

“of course not,” you say, still laughing as you continue eating your slice. “it's delicious. i love it so much.”

he smiles at you, your cheeks full of his pastry, your eyes crinkled with joy that he instilled in you. “and i love you so much.”

your face contorts at that, somewhere between cringing and cooing at his words. “baby, that's so cheesy!”

“i can't help it,” he says, smiling. “you bring out the sap in me.” and then seungkwan takes a bite of his own pie, and he does a double take in amazement. “oh my—wow. this really is amazing.”

he's looking at you in disbelief, and you can't help but beam back. 

“i told you. i love it so much.”

seungkwan's eyes crinkle, overjoyed. 

───────────── ‘🌿, 

“okay, so can i go feed the ducks now?”

after polishing off your second slice of apple pie, you're now more than ready to finally give the lovely ducks some of your attention now too. seungkwan looks up at your question from where he's tidying away the cutlery, and nods with a dramatic sigh. 

“i guess. i guess you can leave your boyfriend to go throw bread at some ducks, if that's what you really—”

“awesome! you're the best!”

you grab the bag of bread before seungkwan can even finish, shuffling over to the side of the picnic blanket to get your shoes. he rolls his eyes in faux exasperation at your excitement, before moving over to you also. 

“wait, y/n.”

you look up as he nears you, before he leans down, closer to your face, and the pad of his thumb swipes over the skin on the side of your mouth. he pulls away, looking terribly pleased with himself. 

“you had some apple sauce on your face,” he says, all sweet, as if your face isn't burning from that one simple gesture. 

“woah,” you say softly, dumbfounded. “that was so smooth.”

seungkwan laughs, incredibly delighted with your reaction. he leans in a presses a swift kiss to your cheek. “off you go,” he says brightly. “you can go feed your ducks now.”

you blink rapidly at him, looking like you're in a daze, before a slow smile spreads across your face and you reach over to peck him on the mouth. 

“if you're going to kiss me, do it right,” you say, smiling, before jumping up and running off to the pond. 

seungkwan watches you go, a smile on his face and his heart in your hands, so devastatingly fond that it makes his chest hurt. and then he turns back to continue packing away the picnic, pulse singing in his ears. 

you're the sweetest, loveliest person he's ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he's so lucky to love you. everything you do is just so—kind, so sweet, so full of affection and it has him melting. 

like this date, for example. you've been so excited to go out with him now the weather's finally turned, and he's had so much fun prepping for it with you. for any other couple, going to the park and having a picnic wouldn't be such a big deal, but it is for you: partially because it's something you love, but also because you know seungkwan will love it too. 

he loves how you pay attention to those kinds of details, how you light up his day by being so passionate and so kind. 

he feels so lucky to love you, because truly, he loves you so much. 

“ah!”

your panicked scream makes him look up, and he sees you whirling around to face him, an incredulous look on your face. 

“seungkwan! the duck just stole the bread right from my hands!”

you look so wronged, like the duck has committed an unspeakable crime, and seungkwan can only laugh, endeared. 

“clearly they don't appreciate you,” he calls. “unlike me. come back to me and don't pay attention to the ducks anymore.”

in an instant, your face brightens into a brilliant beam. 

“okay!’ you say, and come skipping back to the picnic blanket, situating yourself at seungkwan's side, resting your cheek against his shoulder, asking him about what else there is in the basket. 

and there, under the sun with your laughter warm in his ears, seungkwan feels perfectly content. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery @aaa-sia

[regressionschool]

JOBLESS & JUVENILE: A NEW FUTURE FOR THE UNEMPLOYED?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

For decades, governments have struggled with rising unemployment. Now, in partnership with Pampers Corporation, a revolutionary solution has emerged—one that provides financial security, housing, and a structured daily routine for those out of work for extended periods.

The "Retraining & Relaxation Program" (RRP) is a bold new initiative that reimagines what it means to be unemployed. Rather than forcing job-seekers to endure endless applications, stress, and uncertainty, RRP offers them something better: a fresh start, free of adult burdens. Enrolled participants receive free housing, nutritious meals, and a basic income—but in exchange, they must embrace the Pampers lifestyle.

For some, it’s a dream come true. For others, it’s a nightmare.

"I Never Want to Grow Up Again!" – A Happy Little Student

At Sunny Steps Learning Center, one of the program's many Retraining Facilities, I meet Steve, 25, who has been enrolled in RRP for four months. The moment I step into the playroom, he rushes up to greet me, his Pampers crinkling loudly beneath his onesie as he bounces on his heels.

“Hi-hi, Miss Emily!” he chirps, his voice light and playful. “Didja come to play too?”

Steve, once a struggling software developer, no longer concerns himself with résumés, bills, or job interviews. Instead, his days are filled with storytime, snack breaks, and supervised play. He eagerly shows off his favorite toys, his plump diaper sagging slightly but still holding strong—a testament to Pampers’ renowned absorbency.

"I used to be sooo stressed all the time," he tells me, plopping onto a soft mat. "Always worried 'bout money, 'bout findin’ work. But now? I just get to be me! No worries, no hard stuff! Just nap, snack, and play!"

I ask if he ever thinks about returning to adulthood. He looks at me like I’ve suggested something completely absurd.

"Nooo way! Big-boy life was way too hard! I like my diapers, I like my nap times, and I LOVE snackies! Who’d wanna give that up?"

It’s difficult to argue with the enthusiasm in his voice, especially when he kicks his feet happily, completely unconcerned as his caretaker comes over to check his Pampers. The program has given him everything he needs—and taken away everything he doesn’t.

A Different Perspective: "I Don't Belong Here!"

Not everyone shares Steve’s enthusiasm. Dana, 29, is in the program as well, but she’s far from thrilled about it. She shifts uncomfortably on the bench where we meet for our interview, the thick pull-ups beneath her skirt crinkling softly with every movement.

"This is humiliating," she huffs, crossing her arms. "I had a career. I just hit a rough patch! How does that mean I should be treated like a preschooler?"

Unlike Steve, Dana is still classified as a “transition student”, meaning she hasn’t yet fully regressed. She is in the pull-up phase of the program—technically given some independence, but still under heavy supervision. She is required to ask permission for bathroom breaks, follow a strict bedtime, and participate in “learning activities” designed for early childhood development.

"I try to use the toilet whenever I can," she insists, glaring at the playroom around us. "But they’re always watching. They say ‘oopsies happen’ and that it’s okay to have accidents, but I don’t want to have accidents! I’m not a baby!"

Before I can respond, Dana suddenly tenses. A blush creeps up her face, and she quickly looks down, her hands clutching the bench. Seconds later, she gasps softly—a nearly inaudible whimper—as a warm, wet patch spreads across the front of her pull-up.

A nearby caretaker notices immediately. "Oh, Dana, honey," she coos, kneeling beside her. "That’s why we wear our special trainers, remember? Let’s get you all dry, sweetheart."

Dana's face burns with shame as she’s gently led away by the caretaker, a visible waddle in her step from the bulky, swollen pull-up sagging between her thighs.

"See? This is what I mean!" she cries, her voice cracking. "They’re MAKING me like this!"

But is she truly being "made" into anything? Or is she simply proving that some people, no matter how much they protest, aren’t quite as ready for adult responsibilities as they believe?

A Program with Results

As more participants enter the Retraining & Relaxation Program, the statistics speak for themselves. Over 97% of enrollees never return to the workforce, choosing instead to remain in the program permanently.

Psychologists point to reduced stress, structured care, and positive reinforcement as the key factors behind its success. Pampers’ high-quality, ultra-absorbent protection ensures that comfort and security are never a concern, allowing participants to focus solely on their retraining.

Despite some criticism, it’s clear that the RRP is achieving what traditional welfare programs never could—not just financial stability, but true, lasting contentment.

“Some people just aren’t built for the pressures of adult life,” says Dr. Amelia Brooks, a behavioral specialist working with the program. “And that’s okay. With the right care, they can live much happier, healthier lives without unnecessary stress.”

Perhaps the only question left is this: Is unemployment truly the problem? Or is adulthood itself?

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because some people were never meant to grow up.)

[badathumanemotions]

Friction (Part 2)

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

MDNI MasterList Category: Fluff and Smut CW: Getting Together, Going On A Date, Smut, Dom/Sub Undertones, Fluff, Teasing, Oral Sex (m rec), Vaginal Sex, Squirting, Breeding Kink, Aftercare WC: 27,329 [Total WC: 52,733] Anonymous asked:

hi can you write a fic about the team is at a bar ( spencer and the reader are “enemies” ) and the readers ex shows up so she makes spencer act like her bf (they kiss 😛) and it results in them getting freaky because they realise their real feelings for each other

Part One Spencer and Reader have to figure out how to deal with the relentless teasing from the team. In the meantime Spencer takes Reader out on a date. (Not Proof Read)

You padded out of the bedroom, Spencer trailing behind you. The apartment was still and quiet, the only sound the soft creaking of the wooden floor beneath your feet. As you made your way into the living room, your eyes caught sight of the scattered remnants of last night—discarded clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.

You bent down, sifting through the pile in search of your phone, and Spencer did the same. The moment your fingers closed around the device, your stomach twisted at the sight of the screen lighting up—multiple missed calls and a slew of unread messages.

"Shit," you muttered, unlocking your phone.

"Oh no," Spencer said at the same time, his brows furrowing as he scrolled through his own notifications.

The texts were from the team.

To You: Emily: Where the hell did you go?? JJ: Are you okay? We lost you last night. Morgan: You better not be waking up in a jail cell. Garcia: I AM TRYING NOT TO PANIC BUT YOU ARE MISSING??!! Emily: Please tell me you just went home. JJ: Just let us know you're alive, okay? Morgan: You better not be passed out in some alley somewhere. Pick up your phone. Garcia: If you don’t answer, I’m hacking a satellite, I swear. And then I’m sending a search party. WITH DRONES.

To Spencer: Emily: Reid? Where’d you disappear to? JJ: Spence, you good? We haven’t seen you since last night. Morgan: Genius, if you got kidnapped, blink twice. Garcia: OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU MISSING TOO?! Emily: This is not like you. Answer your phone. JJ: Please just check in. Morgan: Seriously, Reid, don’t make me come looking. Garcia: WAIT. I JUST TRACKED YOUR PHONE. YOU'RE WITH HER?! ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER?!

You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. "Well… they noticed."

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "We should’ve expected this."

Your eyes flicked to each other’s phones, then back up. "Garcia tracked us. Of course she did."

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She probably already has a PowerPoint titled 'The Unbelievable Yet Completely Predictable Hookup of the Century.'"

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "God, what do we even say?"

You looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between you. You’d spent the whole night wrapped up in each other, lost in something you didn’t fully understand yet. But now, reality was creeping back in, and with it came the inevitable question—what now?

"Do we tell them?" Spencer asked, cautious.

You chewed on your lip. "I don’t know. I mean, we barely know what this is."

His expression softened. "Yeah. Maybe we keep it to ourselves, at least for now."

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "Let’s get some coffee first. We’ll figure it out."

Spencer exhaled, glancing at his phone again. "Garcia already knows. Which means we’re on borrowed time before the rest of them do."

You groaned. "She’s probably drafting the 'So You Two Finally Gave In' email as we speak."

"Or using her tech wizardry to figure out exactly when and where this would happen based on sheer determination and a questionable disregard for privacy," Spencer muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

You shook your head with a tired laugh. "We’re doomed."

He nudged your shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let’s get coffee before the interrogation starts."

As you made your way to the kitchen, the weight of the team’s inevitable questions loomed over you, but for now, you focused on the simple things—the smell of coffee brewing, the warmth of his presence beside you, the quiet promise of whatever this was becoming.

Spencer leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling his coffee mug in both hands. You sat across from him at the small dining table, stirring absentmindedly at your own cup. The air between you was thick with the weight of Garcia's discovery and what it meant for the rest of the team.

"So," he started, his voice hesitant, "what do we do?"

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your temple. "Garcia knows, which means everyone else will know soon. If she hasn't already started telling them."

Spencer groaned softly, setting his mug down. "She’s not exactly known for keeping secrets."

You gave him a pointed look. "Understatement of the year."

He huffed a small laugh but quickly sobered. "Do we try to control the narrative? Or just… let it happen?"

You took a sip of your coffee, considering. "If we try to get ahead of it, that means having to tell them. All of them. And that means… questions. Lots of them."

Spencer winced, likely imagining the interrogation that awaited the two of you. "Morgan is never going to let me live this down."

"Oh, absolutely not." You smirked, shaking your head. "And Emily and JJ will be smug about it for months."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know if I have the energy to deal with that right now."

You leaned back in your chair. "So, what? We just act like nothing happened? Hope they don’t bring it up?"

Spencer gave you a flat look. "You really think that’s an option?"

You sighed. "Not a chance."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the reality of the situation sinking in. You wanted to be with him—there was no question about that. But navigating this new relationship under the scrutiny of your team was another matter entirely.

"Maybe we just… confirm it if they ask," you finally said. "We don’t have to make a big announcement. Just—if it comes up, we don’t deny it."

Spencer nodded slowly, mulling it over. "That might be the easiest way. Low effort. Less chaos."

You snorted. "There’s going to be chaos no matter what."

He sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "True."

You reached across the table, letting your fingers brush against his. "We’ll handle it together."

Spencer turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours. "Together."

A comfortable silence settled between you, but it was short-lived as a notification lit up Spencer’s phone on the counter. He glanced at it and groaned. "Garcia just sent a group text. I refuse to read it."

Your phone buzzed a second later. You hesitated before picking it up, already dreading what you’d see.

Garcia: "GOOD MORNING, LOVE BIRDS. 😘 DON’T BOTHER DENYING IT. IT’S HAPPENING. YOU’RE HAPPENING. SO WHEN DO WE GET TO GUSH ABOUT THIS???"

You groaned, setting your phone face-down on the table. "She knows, she’s excited, and we are officially doomed."

Spencer ran a hand through his already-messy hair. "She’s going to be relentless."

"Oh, absolutely." You took another sip of coffee, trying to steel yourself. "And once Morgan finds out…"

Spencer’s head hit the counter with a dull thud. "This is going to be worse than I thought."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over to pat his arm. "At least it’s out there now. Maybe it’ll be easier once the dust settles."

He lifted his head slightly, looking at you with skepticism. "Or it’ll be weeks of teasing and speculation."

You shrugged. "Either way, we’re in it now. We may as well own it."

He exhaled slowly, nodding. "Alright. We answer questions if they ask, but no unnecessary details. We don’t need to give them more ammunition than they already have."

"Agreed." You squeezed his hand briefly before letting go, picking up your mug. "We’ll face the chaos together."

Spencer sat back, watching you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You realize Garcia probably already has a whole board of conspiracy theories about how long this has been going on."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course she does. But at least this way, she doesn’t have to guess anymore."

The two of you sat there, the weight of the inevitable hanging over you, but at least now, you weren’t facing it alone. You had each other. And somehow, that made it all a little easier.

The soft morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the quiet space. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with something unmistakably Spencer—clean, warm, familiar. It should have felt strange, waking up here, sharing this moment with him after everything that had transpired the night before. But it didn’t. It felt… natural. Easy, even. And that was the problem.

Spencer sat across from you, fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, his gaze flicking between you and the phone resting between you on the table. Garcia’s texts were still unanswered, her curiosity undoubtedly growing by the second, but neither of you seemed eager to address them. Not yet.

“I should probably get started on my day,” you finally said, though you made no move to stand.

Spencer exhaled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Me too.” He glanced at you, then down at his mug before adding, "At least we have a three-day weekend."

You blinked, the reminder settling in. Three full days before you had to step back into the BAU, back into the teasing and knowing glances you were sure to face. Three days where, if you wanted to, you could see where this thing with Spencer might go.

A beat of silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. This was the part where things were supposed to go back to normal, where you both stepped away and acted like nothing had changed. Except something had changed. Neither of you could pretend otherwise.

Still, you pushed yourself up from the chair, grabbing your bag. “I’ve got some errands to run.”

Spencer followed your lead, standing as well. “Right. I, uh… I’ve got some things to do too.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, but instead, he simply nodded, a hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You hesitated before stepping toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was considering reaching for you, but then he cleared his throat. “Wait.”

You paused, looking back at him. His expression was uncertain for only a moment before he straightened, his voice firmer when he spoke again. “I want to take you on a date. Tomorrow.”

Your breath caught slightly, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “A date?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A real one.” His lips quirked into a small, nervous smile. “No pretending. Just us.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you searched his face. “Okay… where are you taking me?”

His brows furrowed slightly, caught off guard by the question. “I—uh, I was thinking somewhere nice. A restaurant, maybe? Do you have a preference?”

You tilted your head, intrigued by his hesitation. “You didn’t plan this far ahead, did you?”

He exhaled a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was more focused on making sure you’d actually say yes first.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Well, yes, I’m saying yes. But I want details.”

Spencer straightened slightly, his confidence returning. “Alright. There’s this place I read about—small, quiet, great reviews. I think you’ll like it. And after…” His smile turned slightly mischievous. “That part’s a surprise.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “A surprise?”

He nodded. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

You considered it for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest at the idea of him putting thought into this. “Alright. I’ll trust you.”

His relief was evident, his smile growing. “Good. It’s a date, then.”

Before you could respond, he took a small step forward, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. The touch was fleeting, but it sent warmth up your spine. Then, without overthinking it, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips—quick, but deliberate, like he needed to do it before he lost his nerve. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours for a moment before he gave a small, almost shy smile. Then, with one last glance, he turned and left your place, leaving behind the lingering warmth of his touch and the quiet anticipation of what tomorrow would bring.

You stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting your skin like a much-needed reminder of reality. You had things to do, errands to run—picking out something to wear, making sure you looked your best for tomorrow night. And yet, as you walked away, your thoughts remained tangled in the warmth of his presence, the way he’d looked at you like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

As you moved through your day, checking off errands in preparation for tomorrow, you kept glancing at your phone. No messages from him yet. But every time the screen lit up, your heart stuttered just a little, anticipation curling in your stomach at the thought of your date.

You weren’t sure what came next. But for the first time in a long time, the uncertainty didn’t scare you. It only made you excited for what was to come.

The day passed in a blur of errands and distractions, but no amount of busywork could fully pull your mind from the lingering warmth of Spencer’s touch, the way he’d looked at you before he left. As night settled in, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, the quiet hum of the city outside doing little to settle the energy thrumming beneath your skin.

You turned onto your side, your phone resting on the nightstand—silent, but not forgotten. He hadn’t texted, and neither had you. And yet, the anticipation curled in your chest like an unspoken promise. Tomorrow.

A date.

Your lips curved slightly at the thought, warmth blooming within you. It wasn’t just the idea of the date itself—it was him. Spencer, who had kissed you goodbye like he already knew he’d be kissing you again.

With that thought lingering, you finally let your eyes slip closed, drifting off with the quiet certainty that when you woke, the day ahead would be something worth looking forward to.

The soft buzz of your phone pulled you from the edges of sleep, the early morning light casting a faint glow through your curtains. You groggily reached for your phone, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the screen came into focus. A single message awaited you, and the moment you saw the sender, your heart gave a traitorous little stutter.

Good morning, beautiful.

Warmth spread through your chest, a smile tugging at your lips before you could even think to stop it. Spencer. The simple message sent a ripple of excitement through you, the reality of the day settling in. Today was your date. A real one.

You stretched beneath the covers, savouring the lingering drowsiness as you let yourself replay the events of yesterday—the heat of his touch, the way his hands had traced over your skin, the way his lips had lingered against yours like he never wanted to stop. The way he’d looked at you, like he wasn’t quite ready to go. The way he’d said it wasn’t just pretending. That this was real.

Rolling onto your side, you typed out a reply.

Morning.

You hesitated a moment before adding, Excited for tonight.

It wasn’t an exaggeration. There was a pleasant sort of nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin, a feeling you hadn’t let yourself indulge in for a long time. You had the entire day ahead of you, and already, your thoughts were consumed with what was to come.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you moved through your morning routine with an unusual sense of purpose. As you sipped on your coffee, you glanced at your phone again, checking for a response. Nothing yet—but that was fine. You weren’t going to obsess over it.

Instead, you focused on the errands you had planned. If tonight was going to be special, you wanted to be prepared. You had an outfit to pick out, details to perfect. And if your mind wandered to Spencer more times than you cared to admit, well… that was just part of the anticipation.

As you started getting ready for the evening, your mind kept drifting back to Spencer’s words. He had told you dinner, but beyond that, he’d kept the rest of the night a mystery. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, brushing a final layer of mascara over your lashes, and wondered for the hundredth time what the surprise could be.

Spencer wasn’t the type to do something cliché or over-the-top, but he also had a way of making the simplest things feel special. A bookstore, maybe? A hidden café with live music? A museum exhibit he knew you’d love? The possibilities were endless, and the anticipation only made your excitement grow.

The knock at your door sent a jolt of anticipation through you. You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your outfit before making your way to the door. With a steadying breath, you pulled it open.

Spencer stood there, dressed in a fitted blazer and dark slacks, his hair neatly styled yet still carrying that slightly tousled look that suited him so well. In his hands, he held a small bouquet of flowers, the delicate arrangement carefully chosen.

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared. His gaze travelled over you slowly, as if he was committing every detail to memory, admiration flickering in his wide, awestruck eyes. His throat bobbed with a swallow, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a little rough around the edges.

"You look… incredible." There was something almost reverent in the way he said it, his eyes still lingering as if he couldn't quite believe you had dressed up like this—for him.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you found yourself smiling despite the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. Your eyes flicked to the flowers, and something tender unfurled in your heart. "Spencer, these are lovely. Thank you."

His mouth quirked in amusement, though his gaze still held that lingering admiration. "I thought you'd like them."

You accepted the bouquet, inhaling their light fragrance before setting them aside carefully. "You clean up well yourself, Dr. Reid."

His amusement deepened, but there was still that undercurrent of lingering awe in his expression. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, stepping outside as he offered his arm in a way that felt both old-fashioned and entirely Spencer. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you towards the night ahead.

Spencer led you to his car, and before you could reach for the handle, he swiftly stepped ahead, opening the door for you. The gentlemanly gesture sent a small thrill through you, and as you slid into the seat, you couldn't help but smile.

As he settled in beside you, you glanced over with a teasing smile. "So, did you research the perfect first-date flowers? Let me guess—there’s some historical significance to these?"

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. "I considered a few different options, but I ultimately chose these because they symbolize admiration and new beginnings. Seemed fitting."

You raised an eyebrow. "So you did research it."

He shot you a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Would you rather I just grabbed the first bouquet I saw?"

You hummed in thought. "No, I suppose not. But tell me, Dr. Reid, are you nervous?"

Spencer's fingers flexed subtly on the steering wheel. "Not at all. Are you?"

You tilted your head, considering. "Not in the least."

His smirk deepened. "Good. Then let's see if I can keep surprising you."

As the car pulled onto the road, you cast him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at your lips. "You behind the wheel is a rare sight. I was half-expecting to have to drive."

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh. "Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to drive. I just prefer other modes of transportation."

"Mmm, like bothering JJ or Morgan for rides?"

"Or utilizing public transit, which is far more efficient in most cases," he countered smoothly.

You bit back a grin. "Right. But tonight, you’re playing chauffeur. A very handsome, well-dressed chauffeur."

His fingers tapped idly against the wheel as he stole a glance at you. "If that’s the case, then I expect a generous tip."

You pretended to consider. "I suppose that depends on the quality of service."

His smirk deepened. "I’ll just have to make sure you're thoroughly impressed, then."

You shook your head, laughing softly as the city lights blurred past. The night was still young, and something told you Spencer was going to keep you on your toes every step of the way.

When you arrived at the restaurant, Spencer once again moved ahead to open your door for you, extending a hand to help you out. The warm touch of his fingers around yours sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and as you stepped onto the pavement, you glanced up at the softly lit entrance of the restaurant.

The atmosphere inside was intimate, the soft hum of conversation mingling with gentle music. As the host led you to your table, Spencer pulled out your chair for you, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your heart flutter.

You settled in, glancing around before turning to him with a curious smile. "You put a lot of thought into this place, didn't you?"

Spencer shrugged, though the satisfaction in his expression was unmistakable. "You once mentioned you appreciate places with a good atmosphere, and I thought their menu had a few things that might catch your interest."

You shook your head, amusement dancing in your gaze. "You really do remember everything, don’t you?"

He leaned forward slightly, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Especially when it comes to you."

Heat crept up your neck, and you picked up your menu in an attempt to disguise the effect his words had on you. "Well, let's see if your choice lives up to the hype."

Spencer chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as the evening unfolded, every detail adding another layer to the undeniable pull between you both.

After ordering, conversation flowed with an effortless ease, laced with teasing remarks and lingering glances. Spencer’s natural charm, when unguarded, was disarming, and you found yourself drawn into him more with every passing moment.

When the waiter placed your drinks on the table, Spencer raised his glass slightly, his hazel eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "To new beginnings."

You tapped your glass against his, the soft chime lingering in the air between you. "And to being thoroughly impressed."

He smirked, tilting his head as he studied you. "I get the feeling that’s not an easy feat."

You took a slow sip of your drink, meeting his gaze over the rim. "Keep trying, genius."

His eyes darkened slightly at the challenge, and he leaned in just enough that your knees brushed beneath the table. "Oh, I intend to."

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could formulate a response, the food arrived, breaking the moment—but not the tension.

The night was far from over, and if Spencer’s lingering gaze was anything to go by, he had no intention of letting you slip through his fingers so easily.

As your food arrived, Spencer continued to impress you—not just with the thoughtfulness of the restaurant choice but with the way he paid attention. He remembered small details, your preferences, and even the way you liked certain flavours combined. It was impossible not to be charmed by the way he made you feel completely seen.

Between bites, you challenged him with playful quips, and he met you head-on with his own clever retorts, the two of you locked in a battle of wit and flirtation. It was different now—lighter, without the sharp edges of past arguments. Now, it was all charged energy and lingering glances, and the way his knee brushed against yours under the table didn't feel like an accident.

And when he reached across the table, fingers lightly grazing yours as he stole a bite from your plate with a smirk, you knew—this wasn’t just a date. This was something deeper, something neither of you could deny anymore.

After dessert—because of course Spencer had insisted you try something he’d read glowing reviews about—the two of you lingered at the table, neither in a hurry to leave. The hum of conversation around you faded into the background as Spencer traced a finger along the rim of his glass, his gaze steady on you.

"I think this proves I know what I’m doing," he mused, tilting his head slightly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Because you picked a great restaurant? You get credit, but I’m not convinced just yet."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Not convinced?"

"Mhm. I’ll need further evidence before I declare this a success."

Spencer hummed, setting his glass down. "Then I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, won’t I?"

The weight of his words hung between you, something unspoken but understood. Your heartbeat quickened slightly as you held his gaze, the air thick with the kind of tension that neither of you wanted to break.

Eventually, Spencer signalled for the bill, and before you could protest, he was already placing his card down, offering you a look that dared you to argue. You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Fine. But only because I fully intend to make you earn it."

He chuckled, pocketing his receipt. "Noted. And what exactly am I earning?"

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to consider. "Oh, I don’t know… maybe a goodnight kiss. But only if you really impress me."

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, now I have even more incentive to make sure the night goes perfectly."

The night air was crisp as you stepped outside, the quiet hum of the city settling around you. Spencer hesitated for a moment before slipping his hand to the small of your back, guiding you toward the car. The touch was light, but it sent warmth curling through you.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked as he once again opened the car door for you.

You met his gaze, a slow smile tugging at your lips. "I did."

Spencer’s expression softened slightly before he cleared his throat, a flicker of something—relief?—crossing his face. "Good. Because the night’s not over yet."

You settled into your seat, curiosity sparking in your chest. "Oh?"

He rounded the car and slid in beside you, starting the engine with an easy confidence. "I have one more surprise for you."

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t question it. Instead, you let anticipation settle over you as the city lights blurred past once more.

Wherever he was taking you next, you had a feeling he was about to exceed expectations.

As the car rolled through the quiet streets, the city lights flickered against the windows, casting a soft glow over the interior. Spencer’s hand rested casually on the wheel, his eyes flicking to you every so often, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The air between you was charged, each second stretching out just a little longer, filled with a quiet anticipation neither of you quite acknowledged.

The car slowed as it turned onto a smaller street, and then, just ahead, the silhouette of the planetarium rose against the darkened sky. You couldn’t help the surprised gasp that slipped from your lips, your eyes widening as you took it in. It wasn’t like you’d ever been here before, but something about the way it stood against the night, so unassuming but regal, made your pulse quicken.

"You’re kidding," you murmured, half in disbelief.

Spencer didn’t answer immediately, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he guided the car into a parking spot. "Thought you might like it."

You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You really know how to surprise a girl."

He was already out of his seat before you had a chance to reach for the door handle.

A soft click, and the door swung open. Spencer stood there, offering his hand, the dim glow of the streetlights casting shadows over his features. His expression was unreadable at first, but then his lips quirked into something small, something knowing.

"I try," he said, his voice low.

You stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you followed him to the building. There was a quiet elegance to the way he moved, like he was completely at ease. It made you feel a little out of place, and yet, strangely at home all at once.

The planetarium loomed ahead, silent and waiting. But the moment you stepped inside, it became clear—this wasn’t an ordinary visit.

The space was empty. The hush of the planetarium settled over you like a veil, amplifying the quiet click of the theatre doors closing behind you. Spencer’s hand hovered just at the small of your back—not quite touching, but guiding, a barely-there reminder of how close he was. The air felt heavier, charged, as realization settled in.

He’d arranged this. A private showing.

Your gaze flicked to him, but Spencer only watched you, his expression unreadable at first—then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, that same knowing glint in his eyes.

Without a word, Spencer stepped ahead slightly and gestured toward one of the plush reclining seats in the centre of the theatre. His touch, light but deliberate, skimmed over the curve of your waist as he guided you toward it. You felt the warmth of his hand even through the fabric of your clothes, the barely-there pressure sending a quiet thrill up your spine.

With a quiet certainty, Spencer extended a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against yours before he guided you toward one of the plush reclining seats. "Here," he murmured, his voice low, rich. "Let me help you." His touch was gentle yet assured, the quiet insistence of a gentleman as he waited for you to settle. "Get comfortable."

You settled into the seat, and only once you were in place did Spencer take the one beside you. The moment stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Then, with a subtle movement, the lights dimmed further, and the vast dome overhead came to life with an endless sea of stars.

Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into something softer, something meant just for you. "Cassiopeia was placed in the heavens as punishment for her vanity. The gods ensured she would spend eternity upside down for daring to claim she was more beautiful than the Nereids." His fingers twitched slightly as he gestured upward, his other hand resting casually on the armrest between you—close, but not quite touching.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the way his features softened in the faint glow. He was in his element here, effortlessly charming in a way that sent warmth curling low in your stomach.

You should’ve been looking at the constellations. Instead, you found yourself watching him.

And he—he was looking at you.

Not just glancing—watching, as if he were committing every detail to memory. The glow of the stars reflected in his eyes, but it wasn’t the projection above that had him spellbound. His fingers twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach out, but he caught himself, curling his hand into a loose fist against his thigh.

Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and reverent.

"That’s Cygnus," he murmured, gesturing toward the delicate stretch of stars above. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it wrapped around you, steady and certain. "The swan. Some say it’s Orpheus, transformed after death, placed in the sky so he could sing forever."

His gaze flickered toward the constellation, but only briefly—almost like he had to remind himself to look away from you.

He led you through the stories slowly, each word carrying the weight of something ancient, something untouchable. But there was something else beneath his voice—a quiet disbelief, a reverence not for the myths themselves, but for the moment. For the fact that he was here, with you, in this quiet, suspended space where time didn’t seem to exist.

His hand brushed yours, the barest whisper of warmth. Not an accident. Not this time.

His voice softened, something unreadable crossing his features.

"Andromeda and Perseus."

You swallowed, pulse thrumming at your throat.

He didn’t look away this time.

"She was chained to the rocks, waiting to die," he murmured. "Punished for something she had no part in. But Perseus… he didn’t just save her. He freed her. He fought for her."

A slow breath, like he was steadying himself. His fingers traced lightly over the back of your hand, reverent.

"And they weren’t just a fleeting love story. They lived—together, side by side. A full life. A whole life."

The stars spun slowly overhead, but Spencer wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure if this was real. Like if he reached for you, he might wake up and find himself alone.

His thumb swept over your knuckles, a barely-there touch, and you felt the weight of it everywhere.

"They’re still up there," he whispered. "Not because they died… but because they lived."

You exhaled shakily, and his gaze flicked to your lips before he caught himself, looking away too quickly. But his fingers didn’t leave yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The stars above carried on, spinning silently, but everything else felt still.

You turned your gaze back to the constellations, feeling the weight of his attention linger. When you glanced at him again, you caught it—the wonderment in his eyes, the softness that wasn’t there before. He looked at you like you were part of the sky itself, like the stars had descended just to rest in your gaze. He smiled faintly, almost to himself.

"I never thought I'd be here like this with you," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "But I'm glad I am." His gaze swept over your face, lingering. "It’s funny… the stars are beautiful, but I think the way your eyes glow when you look at them is even more breathtaking."

Your breath caught, a slow, simmering warmth stirring beneath his words, and you found you couldn’t quite look away. There was a tenderness to the way he watched you, something fragile and breathtaking.

He continued to speak, his voice a soft, lulling cadence as he named constellations and traced their stories. You listened, letting the sound of his words settle over you like a hush, each name and myth feeling like a secret shared only with you. You didn’t catch every detail—some part of you too lost in the moment, in him—but it didn’t matter. His voice, the low murmur of it, was enough.

It felt like the kind of moment you’d tuck away and carry with you, a quiet kind of magic. Something romantic, though neither of you said it aloud. You wondered if he felt it too—the pull between you, as vast and inevitable as the stars overhead.

As you both stepped out of the planetarium, the night air hit you with a coolness that contrasted with the warmth you felt lingering from the show. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but none of them seemed to shine quite as brightly as the moment you just shared. It was like the world had softened, everything taking on a golden hue, a quiet, glowing magic you couldn’t quite explain.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but in that moment, you wanted him. You didn’t need words. Without thinking, you turned to face Spencer, the space between you feeling too wide for comfort.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, the weight of everything unsaid between you settling in the air. You took a step closer, your hand finding the curve of his jaw, gently pulling him down to meet you.

The kiss was immediate, natural, as if you’d been doing this for years instead of the few stolen moments you’d shared together. It was warm, urgent, full of the tension that had been simmering under the surface ever since the first touch. His lips were soft against yours, but it didn’t take long before they turned hungry, deepening as he pulled you in closer. The kiss felt almost desperate, like the world around you had faded, leaving only the two of you in a shared, fiery space.

Spencer’s hand slid from your waist, moving to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair and holding you steady. You gasped into the kiss as his other hand drifted lower, sliding slowly down the outside of your thigh. The heat of his palm against your bare skin was a shock to your senses, sending a shiver through you. Without thinking, your hand moved to his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your touch.

You deepened the kiss, pressing yourself against him, and his hand shifted lower still, settling on the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him. The contact sent a rush of heat through you, a delicious pressure that made you want more, need more.

He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his lips brushing against yours as he leaned his forehead against yours. His chest heaved, just as yours did, both of you still struggling to catch your breath.

“God, you’re killing me,” Spencer muttered, his voice rough and low, and you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or desire lacing his words.

You felt the same, your body still thrumming from the kiss, from the touch. You wanted to keep going, to let the moment drag on forever, but you couldn’t ignore the pull of the car and the inevitable drive back.

“Let’s get in the car,” he said, voice almost a command, but his fingers lingered on your skin as if reluctant to let go.

You nodded, but before you could turn to walk to the car, Spencer’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you back to him in one smooth motion. His lips crashed against yours again, even more demanding this time, the kiss melting all your restraint away. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer as you felt the intensity of the moment rise again. There was no slowing down, no pulling back now.

When he finally broke the kiss, you both stood there, breathless, for a beat longer than necessary. Spencer’s hand lingered at the small of your back, the heat from his touch igniting a fire deep inside you.

Without another word, he helped you into the car, the cool leather seat seeming impossibly colder after the heat between you two. He slid in beside you, the space between you still charged with that same electric tension.

As he drove, his fingers brushed over your knee absentmindedly, the touch light but deliberate. Your body hummed with the aftermath of the kiss, every inch of you still alive with the sensations he caused. The drive felt like it took forever, the quiet of the night outside only making the distance between you seem larger than it really was. Every so often, you could feel his gaze flicker to you, dark and intent.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of your heart. The air in the car was thick with the promise of something more, something neither of you had ever admitted out loud. And so, without a word, you let your legs fall open just a fraction more, the leather seat cool against your skin. Your skirt, a dark whisper of fabric, slid up your thighs, revealing the softness beneath.

Spencer’s eyes flickered downward, his gaze catching on the newly exposed flesh. His hand paused on your knee for a second before it began to trace upward, the slow, deliberate movement of a man who knew exactly what he was doing—what he wanted. The heat of his fingertips was like a brand against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt your breath catch as his hand slid up your thigh, the fabric of your skirt whispering against your skin as it slid higher.

The sensation was exquisite, sending shivers through your body. You bit your bottom lip to keep from gasping out loud, your eyes slipping closed for a moment. The sound of the car’s engine was a low thrum in the background, the only noise in the otherwise silent vehicle.

Spencer’s hand continued its ascent, his fingertips lightly brushing the fabric of your panties. The anticipation was a coil in your stomach, tightening with every inch his hand travelled. You felt yourself lean into the touch, your body craving more.

With a gentle pressure, he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the damp heat of your folds. You held your breath as he touched you, the first contact of his skin against yours making you shiver. His ring finger traced the length of your slit, the pad of it finding your clit and making you gasp. He took the sound as a cue to press down, his touch feather-light but firm enough to elicit a reaction.

Your hand found its way to his thigh, gripping tightly as he began to rub in slow, steady circles. The sensation was almost unbearable, a sweet agony that made you arch into his touch. You could feel his eyes on you, watching the play of emotions across your face as you struggled not to let the moan building in your chest escape.

With a sudden urgency, Spencer’s fingers slid inside you, filling you up in a way that made your eyes roll back. He groaned at the wetness that greeted him, his movements matching the rhythm of his thumb now on your clit. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep your voice down as the pleasure built, your body tightening with every stroke.

Your hips rocked against his hand, a silent plea for more. His touch was firm and sure, the pads of his fingers finding every spot that made you shiver and moan. It was like he’d studied you, knew every inch of your body, every secret that made you fall apart. You couldn’t believe this was happening—that you were here, with him, and that he was touching you like this.

The sound of your breathing filled the car, each gasp and whimper echoing off the windows, a stark contrast to the quiet night outside. Spencer’s eyes remained on the road, his focus unwavering despite the distraction of his hand between your legs. It was a testament to his control, a promise of what was to come.

His fingers danced inside you, curling and stroking with a skill that was both maddening and exhilarating. Every movement was calculated, designed to build the tension that coiled low in your belly. You felt yourself growing wetter, the slickness of your arousal making your skin stick to the cool leather of the seat. It was a delicious kind of discomfort, a reminder of the need building between your thighs.

You squirmed, the sensation of his touch growing more intense with each passing second. It didn’t matter that you were in a car, that the world was rushing by outside—all that existed was the heat of his hand, the pressure of his fingers. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the sounds that wanted to escape. But it was useless. You were too lost, too far gone.

Before you knew it, the car had come to a stop, and Spencer’s hand was withdrawing, the loss of contact leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You opened your eyes to find him watching you, his gaze dark and hungry. He didn’t say a word as he helped you adjust your clothing, his movements gentle but firm.

You groaned at the loss of stimulation, but the ache between your legs was a sweet reminder of what was to come. Your entire body was strung tight with anticipation, your breaths coming in short, shallow pants. You knew you were close to getting what you really wanted—what you both wanted.

Spencer simply said "patience," his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He gave you one last lingering look, a silent promise of more before getting out of the car. You watched him move with that same fluid grace you'd seen in the planetarium, the moonlight casting his features shadows. He was like a statue come to life, all muscles and angles, and your body responded to the sight of him, the ache between your legs growing.

When he opened your door and offered his hand to help you out, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in some kind of dream—a steamy, erotic fantasy where the intellectual banter turned into something far more primal and consuming. You took his hand, letting him guide you out of the car. His grip was firm, grounding, a contrast to the tremble in your own legs. The cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire he’d stoked within you.

Spencer didn’t say anything as he led you to your front door, his hand still holding on to yours. The moment the door was open, you didn’t bother with the lights. The moon was enough to guide you through the darkness, casting everything in a soft, seductive glow.

Without hesitation you boldly shimmied out of your dress, letting it pool at your feet. The chilly air kissed your skin as you stepped out of the fabric, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. You didn’t bother looking back—you knew Spencer was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. You felt his gaze like a physical touch, sending goosebumps skittering down your spine.

You sauntered away, your hips swaying with an unspoken challenge. The moon’s soft light traced your figure, casting a silver glow on your skin, making you look like a goddess of the night. Your bra and panties were the only barriers between you and his hungry eyes, and you knew it was driving him wild.

As you entered the bedroom, you felt his gaze on you like a physical caress. The room was bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon. You turned to face him, your heart racing as he followed you in, his eyes dark with desire. The anticipation was a thrum in the air, a palpable force that made your skin tingle.

And then, he strode over, closing the distance between you in a single purposeful step. His hand cupped the back of your neck, and before you could even catch your breath, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was gentle. His tongue slid against yours, a dance of passion and need that seemed to go on forever, the heat of his body enveloping you as if he could absorb you into himself.

The room was a blur of shadows and moonlight, but it was Spencer that was the brightest star in your universe. His touch was everywhere—his hands roaming over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his mouth a brand against yours that you felt in every fibre of your being. You melted into his embrace, letting the sensations wash over you like a warm wave, pulling you deeper into the moment.

He tugged at your bra, and it fell away, leaving your breasts exposed to the cool air. He paused, his eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you shiver, before he bent to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing until you moaned. His hands were everywhere—his fingers tracing the lines of your ribs, the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips. He seemed to be memorizing you, learning every inch of your body like it was a sacred text.

And you, you couldn’t get enough. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, down his back, feeling the taut muscles that shifted and flexed under your touch. You wanted to devour him, to feel him against you in every way possible. His own clothes came off with the same urgency.

With a growl, Spencer pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours. The mattress dipped under the weight of you both, the fabric cool and soft against your skin. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, nipping and kissing a trail that made you arch your back and gasp.

He slid your panties off, revealing your wetness to the air. His eyes flashed with hunger before his mouth was on you, his tongue tracing the edges of your folds, teasing your clit with feather-light flicks that had you writhing beneath him. You gripped the sheets, trying to hold on to something as the world spun away. His mouth felt like heaven, his touch like the answer to every unspoken prayer.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with lust. You could feel the vibration of his words against your sensitive flesh, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that was insatiable. You bucked against his face, your hips moving in a silent plea for more.

The bed rocked as he settled between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. His mouth was relentless, his tongue swirling and lapping, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. You could feel the orgasm building, a pressure that grew with every touch, every kiss. You were so close, so close to the precipice that you could almost taste it.

"I'm so close. If you stop this time," you breathed out, your voice low and filled with humour, "I'm going to kill you."

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with mirth as he took in your flushed cheeks and the desperation in your voice. He knew you weren’t being serious—not really—but the playful threat in your words only served to make him more determined. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your wet skin, and whispered, “Oh, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

With that, he went back to his task with renewed vigour, his tongue swirling and dipping, his lips sucking gently. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body bowing under the onslaught of pleasure. You gripped the sheets harder, your knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to push him away, to drag him closer, to do anything to make the feeling last forever.

And then, when the moment was right, Spencer slid his fingers into you, aiming straight for your G-spot. You gasped at the suddenness of it, your body jolting as he hit the spot with unerring precision. The sensation was like a spark that ignited a fuse, sending waves of pleasure shooting through you.

You could no longer hold back the whines and moans that had been building in your throat. They spilled out into the night, a symphony of need that seemed to resonate through the very air around you. His mouth and fingers worked in tandem, pushing you higher and higher until you felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces.

The climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. Your body tightened around his fingers, your muscles clenching as the orgasm washed over you. You could feel your juices coating his skin, and the thought only served to make the sensation more intense.

As the last spasms of pleasure receded, Spencer pulled back, his eyes shining with victory and something else—admiration, maybe? You couldn’t be sure. But the look on his face was one of pure reverence, as if you were some kind of goddess that had just allowed him a taste of heaven.

You watched him, panting and flushed, as he moved over you. His skin was slick with sweat, the moonlight playing across the planes of his chest, casting him in an ethereal glow. For a moment, he just hovered above you, his breaths heavy, his eyes locked on yours. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a soft rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth.

"You’re not just beautiful… you’re celestial. Like you were born from the night sky itself."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as Spencer’s eyes searched yours. His pupils were wide, dark pools that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe—and for a moment, you felt like you were drowning in them. The room spun around you, the only constant the steady beat of your heart and the heat of his gaze.

And then, he was moving again, his body sliding against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You felt the tip of his erection nudge against your entrance, and it was all you could do not to beg for more. But you didn’t have to—Spencer knew exactly what you needed. With one swift thrust, he filled you completely, the sensation of him inside you making your eyes roll back in your head.

He paused for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust, to breathe. You felt him, thick and hard, stretching you in a way that was both exquisite and overwhelming. You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing against the walls of your pussy, and the sensation was almost too much to handle. But you didn’t want it to stop—you never wanted it to stop.

You reached up and placed a hand on the back of his neck, guiding his mouth to yours in a silent plea for more. Spencer didn’t need any encouragement. His lips claimed yours with a fiery passion that left you gasping, his tongue delving deep as he began to move, his hips setting a rhythm that had you rising to meet him.

The sensation was like nothing you’d ever felt before—like your entire world had been reduced to the point where you were joined. The bed groaned in protest under the force of your movements, the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady, insistent beat that matched the pounding of your heart. You could feel yourself building again, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere, on your breasts, your hips, your ass—guiding you, urging you closer to that sweet oblivion that beckoned. His thrusts grew more demanding, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings that seemed to carry the weight of the universe.

You felt yourself begin to climb again, the sensation of him inside you more intense than ever. His strokes grew longer, his rhythm unrelenting, each movement bringing you closer to that precipice you’d been teetering on. You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity that crackled between your bodies. It was like you were made for this—for each other—like every moment of your life had led to this perfect storm of passion.

You watched as his cock slid in and out of you, the slickness of your desire making his skin glisten in the moonlight. The sight was almost too much, your eyes going wide as you took in every inch of him, his length, his girth, the way he filled you so completely. Your inner muscles clenched around him, a silent invitation for him to go deeper, to never stop.

Each stroke sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, making your toes curl and your back arch. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were here, with Spencer, feeling this connection that seemed to transcend the physical. His eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and focused, as if he was trying to see into the very depths of your soul.

The rhythm grew faster, the sounds of your skin slapping against his and the wet noises of your union filling the room. Spencer’s breathing grew ragged, his face a picture of pure concentration as he watched you climb towards your peak. His thumb found your clit again, playing with it in a way that had your eyes rolling back in your head, stars exploding behind your closed lids.

“Tell me how good I make you feel,” he demanded, his voice a gruff whisper. It was a command, but also a question, a need for you to put into words the symphony of sensations that played through your body with each stroke of his cock.

You obeyed, your voice a breathless pant as you whispered, “Good isn’t enough, Spencer. You make me feel alive. Like every nerve in my body is on fire, like I’m floating on air and drowning in pleasure all at once.” Each word was a confession, a revelation of how deeply he affected you.

He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before snapping open again, his gaze locked on yours as if he was afraid to miss a single second of this shared moment. His hips sped up, his strokes growing more insistent, more demanding. His thumb circled your clit, pressing harder, faster, and you felt your orgasm building once more, like a crescendo that you couldn’t hold back.

“Tell me,” he said again, his voice low and commanding, his eyes searching yours. “I want to hear it. I need to know how good it feels when I’m inside you, making you come apart around me.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, your body trembling with the effort of holding back the words. But you knew he needed to hear them, needed to know that he was the one who did this to you. So you spoke, your voice raw with passion.

"You feel so deep, so perfect, like you’re claiming every part of me. Like you own me." Your voice broke on a gasp as you clung to him, nails biting into his shoulders. "I don’t ever want you to stop. I don’t think I could survive it."

His response was a feral groan, his hips bucking harder, driving into you with an urgency that spoke of a hunger that could never truly be sated. Your breaths grew shorter, your body tightening around him like a vise. The pressure grew, the tension coiling like a spring about to snap.

And then, with a few desperate thrusts, you were there falling over the edge, screaming out his name as your orgasm crashed over you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before—a white-hot explosion that sent waves of pleasure through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

But Spencer wasn’t finished. His eyes burned with an intensity that seemed almost feral as he looked down at you, his hips still moving with a purpose that was unmistakable. You could feel his cock pulse inside you, feel his own release building with each stroke. And in that moment, all you wanted was for him to let go, for him to fill you up with everything he had to give.

In a pleasure-drunk haze, you whispered the words that had been dancing on the tip of your tongue. “Cum in me, Spencer. I need it. I need all of you, please… fill me up." Your voice was a needy whine, raw with desperation.

Hearing your plea, Spencer’s control snapped. He growled, the sound primal and possessive, and his hips began to piston into you, his strokes deep and powerful. You could feel his cock swell even more inside you, the pressure building until it was almost too much to bear.

And then, with a final roar of pleasure, he did as you asked—his seed spilling into you in hot, thick spurts that filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming, a rush of heat and fullness that seemed to go on forever. Your muscles clenched around him, milking every drop as if trying to hold onto him for as long as possible.

As your bodies stilled, Spencer collapsed onto you, his breaths coming in heaving gasps, his heart racing against your chest. You could feel his weight, the reassuring warmth of his body, the sticky sweat that melded your skin together. For a moment, you just lay there, panting and trembling, basking in the aftermath of what had just transpired.

Then, with a gentle smile, Spencer rolled off of you, taking care not to break the connection entirely. He pulled you into his arms, your legs tangling together, your breaths mingling as you both tried to find your bearings. The room was silent, save for the distant sound of a car passing by outside, the occasional creak of the bed, and the steady beat of your hearts.

You looked up at him, his face a canvas of pleasure and contentment. The moon had shifted slightly, casting a new pattern of shadows across his skin. You traced one with your finger, watching as it danced over the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. He leaned into your touch, a purr of satisfaction rumbling in his throat.

“That was…” he started, his voice gravelly with the aftermath of passion.

You smiled softly, finishing for him, "Incredible."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, his eyes glimmering as they met yours. "Yeah. That’s one word for it."

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable but intimate, filled with quiet understanding. You lay there, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. His hand drifted along your back, fingertips tracing your spine with a delicate touch.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead.

You nodded, a small hum of affirmation. "Better than okay."

His hand paused, cradling the back of your head as if he could hold you together with just his touch. "Good. I just… I want this to be good for you. For us."

"It is," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "It is."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, his lips warm against your skin. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "You should use the bathroom," he said gently, his concern evident. "Just to be safe."

You smiled at the thoughtfulness, brushing your fingers over his arm. "You're right. I'll be right back."

As you slipped out of bed, Spencer watched you go with a fondness that warmed the air between you. He rose as well, pulling on his boxers and heading into the kitchen. By the time you returned, he had two glasses of water waiting on the nightstand.

"Figured you'd be thirsty," he said, offering you one with a soft smile.

You accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip before setting it down. "You're too good to me."

He chuckled, climbing back into bed and pulling you close once more. "Just looking out for you."

You settled into his embrace, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Tonight was… amazing. Not just this, but the whole night. The date, the way you made me feel. It was easy with you. Natural."

Spencer’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your back. "I wanted it to be that way. I wanted you to feel… comfortable. Wanted. Because you are."

Your fingers found his, intertwining them. "You make me feel… like I don't have to try so hard. Like I'm enough."

He squeezed your hand, his voice a soft murmur against your hair. "You are. You always are."

There was a pause, a quiet stretch of time where neither of you moved. Then, without words, he pulled the blanket over the two of you, tucking it around your bodies. His arms stayed tight around you, and you nestled closer, finding solace in the solid line of his body.

The exhaustion crept in slowly, your limbs heavy, your thoughts hazy but content. Spencer’s fingers stroked through your hair, slow and soothing, lulling you toward sleep.

"Sleep," he whispered. "I've got you."

And you did, sinking into the warmth of him, letting the world fade away until there was nothing but the steady beat of his heart and the soft rhythm of his breath.

Morning light crept gently into the room, casting soft shadows across the bed. Spencer stirred first, eyes blinking open to the sight of you still sleeping beside him. Your features were relaxed, lips slightly parted, hair splayed across the pillow in soft waves. A quiet contentment settled over him. He wanted to keep this moment, to hold onto it, but even more than that, he wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Sweet.

Breakfast in bed.

Carefully, he slid out from under the blanket, moving with slow precision to avoid waking you. He paused by the doorway, taking one last look at you before stepping into the kitchen, determination settling in his chest. How hard could it be?

Turns out, harder than expected.

He started with coffee, thinking it safe. Only, the machine sputtered oddly, refusing to brew as smoothly as it should. He frowned, poking at it like that might encourage better performance. When the coffee finally dripped through, it was weaker than expected but passable. He’d just… add more sugar. That would fix it, right?

The eggs were next. Spencer cracked the first one with too much force, half of it splattering onto the counter. He muttered under his breath, cleaning it up quickly before trying again. The second egg cracked better, though some shell slipped into the bowl. He tried fishing it out with his fingers but only made it worse, the slippery bit of shell evading him like a taunt.

"Okay," he murmured, squinting in concentration. He reached for a spoon, finally prying the shell free with a triumphant huff. The small victory felt satisfying—until he realized he’d already let the pan heat too long. The butter burned in an angry sizzle, smoke curling up as if mocking him. He rushed to toss it, opening the window to wave the smoke out.

"Great start," he muttered.

The toast was another misadventure. He set it to medium, turned his back for half a second, and it came out more charred than crisp. He hesitated, then decided maybe if he just scraped off the blackened bits, it would be fine. Rustic. That sounded right. Rustic.

By the time he was done, the kitchen looked like a minor war zone. Eggshells littered the counter, the faint smell of smoke lingered, and the toast… well, it wasn’t black anymore, but it wasn’t exactly golden either. The coffee looked questionable, the eggs a little overcooked. Still, he plated it carefully, determined to follow through.

He placed everything on a tray, hesitating only a moment before grabbing a single flower from the vase on your table. A nice touch, he thought. Maybe it would distract from everything else.

When he returned to the bedroom, you were already stirring, eyes fluttering open as you turned towards him. Your gaze softened, sleep still lingering in your expression.

Spencer smiled, though it was tinged with nerves. "Good morning," he greeted, placing the tray gently on the nightstand. "I… thought I’d surprise you with breakfast."

You blinked at the tray, then back at him. Your lips twitched, though you held it back admirably.

"This is… such a sweet surprise," you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling at your waist. "You didn’t have to."

"I wanted to," he said quickly. "I thought… well, after last night, you deserved something nice. Even if I’m not exactly a chef." He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "And the coffee might be a little weak. The toast is, um, rustic. And the eggs are… edible?"

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and affectionate. "It’s perfect," you said, though your smile gave you away.

"You’re a terrible liar," Spencer chuckled, but his eyes were fond. "But I appreciate it."

You reached for the coffee first, taking a cautious sip. Your expression twitched, but you swallowed it without complaint. Then you picked up the toast, eyeing it as though it might crumble into dust with one wrong move.

"It’s definitely… crunchy," you said, and the laugh that followed was free and bright.

Spencer groaned but grinned, rubbing a hand down his face. "I swear, my brain is good for a lot of things. Cooking just isn’t one of them."

"You get points for effort," you teased, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers through his. "And honestly? The thought means more than perfect eggs."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "I’ll take you out for real breakfast later. Something with less… burnt bread."

"Deal." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "But this is still my favourite breakfast so far."

He tilted his head, catching your lips with his. Slow. Sweet. The kind of kiss that lingered, tasting of morning and promise. When you finally pulled back, Spencer’s eyes searched yours, like he was memorizing the moment.

"Next time, I'll just bring you coffee," he murmured, though his smile was playful.

"As long as you’re the one bringing it," you said, settling back into the pillows. "It’ll be perfect."

Spencer settled back against the pillows, his arm curling around you like it belonged there. His skin was warm, his body solid as you pressed close, letting the sheets drape loosely over you. His fingertips traced slow, lazy patterns along your spine, the kind of touch that wasn’t in a hurry to be anything but soft and steady.

You pressed your face into the curve of his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “You didn’t have to try so hard,” you said, voice low, lazy.

“I wanted to,” he murmured, his breath brushing over your hair. His fingers traced up, slow and thoughtful, until they skimmed along the back of your neck. “For you.”

The way he said it made warmth bloom low in your chest. You tilted your head, lifting your gaze to his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His eyes lingered on you—your mouth, your cheek, the soft curve of your shoulder. His hand slid up, fingertips brushing along your jaw, light but certain.

You leaned in, and his lips met yours like it was inevitable.

It started soft, slow, but it didn’t stay that way. His mouth opened against yours, his hand sliding into your hair, fingers tangling and tugging, angling your head the way he wanted. You sighed into him, your hand sliding along his side, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He kissed you deeper, slower, like he had nowhere else to be. Like there was nothing better than this. His hand traced down, fingertips brushing over your back, down to the curve of your waist. He pulled you closer until there wasn’t space for anything but the steady heat of him, his body solid, his breath quickening.

You shifted, your leg sliding over his, tangling close. His hands found your hips, fingers splaying, holding you there, keeping you pressed to him. His mouth never left yours, deep and wanting but never rushed. His tongue traced over yours, slow and certain, tasting, lingering like he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

Your hands roamed, exploring the lines of him, fingertips skating over his ribs, his shoulders, the soft dip of his spine. Every brush of skin made him press closer, his breath catching, his hands smoothing up your back, tracing along your sides. His touch was slow but certain, like he wanted to feel every inch of you.

The sheets tangled around you, warm and soft, but it was his hands, his mouth, his body that held you there. Time stretched out, long and slow, the kind of time that didn’t feel real. You kissed until your lips were sore, until you were breathless, caught between sighs and quiet laughter, until the line between one kiss and the next blurred into something endless.

Every shift, every brush of fingertips, every quiet hum felt easy. Unhurried. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head just right so his mouth could find yours again. And when his lips dragged lower, brushing along your jaw, down the curve of your throat, you sighed, arching into him.

He hummed, low and pleased, his mouth lingering against your skin, soft and warm. You curled closer, fingers tracing the slope of his back, slow and content.

It wasn’t about urgency. It wasn’t about needing anything more than this. It was about closeness, about the feel of his skin beneath your hands, his mouth on yours, the warmth of his breath, the steady comfort of his touch.

And you stayed like that, tangled up in each other, kissing and touching, letting the world outside fall away.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. You didn’t care.

Eventually, he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm and uneven, his eyes half-lidded, lazy. His thumb brushed along your cheek, slow and sweet.

“I could stay here forever,” he said, voice rough but soft.

You smiled, fingers tracing lightly along his shoulder. “Me too.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. But then your stomach growled—quiet but impossible to ignore and it made you both laugh, warm and breathless.

Spencer shifted back slightly, his hand smoothing down your side. “I still owe you breakfast,” he said, his tone wry. “Or… brunch, I guess, by now. I feel bad about earlier.”

You hummed, trailing your fingers down his arm. “You don’t have to make up for anything. I’m happy right here.”

“I know,” he said, brushing his fingers along your side, slow and thoughtful. “But I want to. I want to bring you something good.”

You gave him a lazy, teasing smile. “And if I said I’d rather keep you here?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Then I’d say I’ll be back fast. But you deserve a real meal, and I want to be the one to bring it to you.” His gaze softened. “Then we can crawl back under the covers and have a lazy day in bed.”

You exhaled, the idea settling in warm. “Alright,” you said. “But you better hurry.”

“I will.” He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips. “Promise.”

You watched him as he slid from the bed, the sheets falling away, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He stretched, slow and lazy, the muscles of his back flexing beneath skin as he reached for his clothes.

He dressed without hurry, his gaze flicking to you as he tugged his shirt over his head. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You smiled, sinking deeper beneath the blanket. “I won’t.”

And when he crossed the room, leaning in to press one last kiss to your forehead, it lingered soft and certain, like a promise.

“I won’t be long,” he said, his fingers brushing one last time along your arm.

You watched him go, the door clicking softly behind him, and the room felt quieter but still warm. Still full of him.

You stretched beneath the sheets, your body humming with the comfort of him, and let yourself sink into the warmth he’d left behind, knowing he’d return soon with food, with more of this. With more of him.

The café was quiet when Spencer stepped inside, the air rich with the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread. The warmth was a sharp contrast to the chill outside, but it wasn’t enough to thaw the haze that had settled over him since leaving your place.

He kept thinking about how you’d looked when he slipped out tangled in the sheets, hair mussed, skin still warm from his touch. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the weight of your body pressed to his. It lingered, soft and heady.

It didn’t feel real.

He kept thinking about last night, about the way you’d smiled over dinner, the quiet way you’d leaned into him at the planetarium like you belonged there, like you belonged with him. He’d memorized the way the soft glow of the stars lit your skin, how your eyes had caught the light when you looked at him. How you’d kissed him like you meant it. Like you wanted more.

He ordered quickly—pastries, something warm and sweet, and coffee that smelled rich and strong. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a gesture. Like something he could give you, small but thoughtful. He wanted to bring you something good. Something easy.

Walking back, he wondered if you were still curled up in bed, if you’d fallen asleep again. He liked the thought of that. Liked the idea of coming back to you warm and drowsy, your body soft beneath the sheets, your voice low with sleep.

He just liked coming back to you.

By the time he let himself back in, the apartment was quiet. He closed the door softly, toeing off his shoes, and carried the food inside. The bedroom door was ajar, and he caught a glimpse of you inside curled beneath the blankets, now wearing a tank top and panties, your hair falling loose over your shoulder. You were stretched out in the soft glow of morning, looking comfortable and warm, and for a second, Spencer just stood there. Watching.

It still didn’t feel real.

You looked up when he stepped in, your eyes soft with sleep, and gave him a smile that made something in his chest pull tight.

“Told you I’d be quick,” he said, keeping his voice low.

You stretched beneath the covers, slow and lazy. “You were.”

He set the bag down, unpacking the food as you pushed yourself up. The sheets slipped down your body, exposing more bare skin, and he tried not to stare. Tried.

“I got pastries,” he said, passing one to you. “And coffee. I thought—well, I hoped it would be good enough.”

You took it with a soft smile, fingers brushing his. “It’s perfect.”

Spencer sat beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. He watched you take a bite, the way your eyes fluttered shut at the taste, and smiled to himself.

It felt easy after that. You sat cross-legged on the bed, sharing food and quiet conversation, trading bites and soft laughs. Crumbs scattered across the sheets, but neither of you cared. His fingers brushed yours more than they needed to. He let them linger, tracing over your knuckles, your wrist, the curve of your thigh beneath the blanket.

And when you were both full, when the food was forgotten and the coffee cooled on the nightstand, you stayed close. Spencer stayed close.

The afternoon passed in quiet, easy conversation. You stayed in bed, letting the hours stretch long and unhurried. There was no rush, no need to be anywhere but here. Spencer stayed close, his leg pressed against yours beneath the blanket, his fingers brushing over your hand now and then-light, lingering, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Eventually, he shifted, leaning back against the headboard and stretching out his legs. His arm slid around your waist, fingers curling just enough to tug you gently toward him. You didn’t resist, letting him pull you in until you were settled between his legs, your back resting against his chest.

It felt natural, easy, the kind of closeness that didn’t need words. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb tracing slow, idle circles over the soft fabric of your tank top. You let your head tip back against his shoulder, and for a while, that was enough.

The conversation slowed, words giving way to the quiet comfort of being close. Spencer’s fingers drifted, tracing along your side, over your ribs, and back again. His touch wasn’t urgent, but there was a weight to it, a quiet intent that lingered beneath the surface.

Eventually, as the sky outside dimmed and the soft glow of evening settled in, Spencer's hand paused where it rested on your waist. His fingers flexed slightly, holding on like he didn't want to let go.

"I should…" His voice trailed off, low and reluctant. "I should probably head out soon."

You tilted your head, looking up at him. "You don't have to."

He hesitated, then sighed. "I do. We have work tomorrow. And as much as I want to stay, I don't think either of us will get much sleep if I do."

It wasn’t teasing, and it wasn’t light. It was truth, weighed down with the pull of wanting to stay anyway.

You nodded, though it wasn’t what you wanted either. "Yeah. You're right."

He was quiet for a moment, his hand smoothing over your side like he was memorizing the shape of you. "Tomorrow's going to be… interesting," he said, a dry note in his voice.

You gave a small laugh. "You mean the team is going to make our lives hell?"

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Exactly that."

You shifted, turning slightly to look at him better. "We'll get through it."

"We will," he agreed, but the words were softer. Like he needed to believe them as much as you did. "But we need to be careful. We can’t… We can’t let this affect work."

You nodded, serious now. "I know. No flirting. No… this," you said, gesturing between you both. "Not while we’re on the clock."

His jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Right. No slipping. No mistakes."

"And no giving them anything to gossip about," you added.

He chuckled under his breath, though it lacked humor. "We already gave them enough. Tomorrow, we keep it professional. No exceptions."

You nodded again, though a part of you ached at the thought. "We’ll figure it out."

His hand lingered at your side, fingers pressing in gently like he didn’t want to let go. "We will," he said, and there was something certain in the words. Not just about work but about everything. About you and him.

When he finally stood, you followed him, padding barefoot to the door. The apartment felt smaller as he gathered his things, quieter with the evening stretching between you. You lingered close as he shrugged on his jacket, and when his hand hovered at the door, you reached for him.

He turned, his expression soft and a little sad, and you lifted onto your toes, brushing your lips to his. Slow, lingering, a kiss that said all the things you couldn’t tomorrow. The kind that made him hum low in his chest, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, fingers sliding into your hair.

You pulled back first, but only by a breath. "Goodnight," you said, your voice quieter now.

His thumb traced along your jaw. "Goodnight."

He hesitated, but then he stepped back, opening the door and slipping out with one last look. One that lingered like his touch, warm and slow, even after the door clicked shut.

You stood there for a moment, fingers pressed to your lips, holding onto the feel of him. Knowing tomorrow would be different. Knowing you'd have to act like this didn’t happen.

But it did. And you'd both figure it out. Together.

The night stretched quiet after Spencer left, but his absence lingered. You moved through the motions of evening—tidying up, brushing your teeth, slipping into bed—but it all felt a little too still. A little too empty.

Your phone buzzed just as you settled under the covers.

Spencer: Sweet dreams. I’ll be thinking about you.

A smile tugged at your lips as you typed back.

You: You better not be thinking about me tomorrow. We have to be professional, remember?

The reply came quickly.

Spencer: Right. Completely professional. No thinking about you at all.

You could almost hear the sarcasm in it. Almost see the way he’d be smiling, soft and teasing.

You: Good luck with that.

A beat passed, and then,

Spencer: Goodnight.

You: Goodnight, Spencer.

You set the phone down, but it took a while for sleep to come. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, fingers brushing over the empty space beside you. It felt like something unfinished. Like something waiting.

But eventually, sleep pulled you under.

Sleep didn’t last long enough.

You moved through the morning on autopilot—shower, coffee, dressing for the day. Routine helped, steady and familiar, but there was a thread of tension underneath it all. A sense of anticipation you couldn’t shake.

You paused by the mirror, studying yourself. Trying to find that steady, composed version that wouldn’t give anything away. That could walk into work and pretend nothing had changed.

Professional. Unshakable.

You adjusted your clothes and took one last look.

This was fine. You could do this.

The drive in passed in a blur, but when the building came into view, your stomach tightened. It was easy to imagine the teasing looks, the knowing glances, the way the team would pounce at the first slip.

In the elevator, you caught your reflection in the metal doors. You smoothed your hands down your sides, pressed your shoulders back. Tried to look like nothing had changed. Like you weren’t holding onto the ghost of Spencer’s touch.

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open, and you took a breath.

Steady. Calm. Professional.

You stepped out, heels clicking against the floor, and walked toward the office.

The bullpen was already humming with quiet activity when you stepped off the elevator. Garcia was perched on Derek's desk, legs crossed, a look of pure mischief lighting up her face. She wasn’t even pretending to look busy, eyes fixed on the elevator like she had been waiting just for you.

Her grin was immediate and sharp. "Well, well. Look who decided to show up."

You kept your expression neutral, though it was difficult with the way her gaze swept over you like she was analyzing every inch.

"Morning, Garcia."

She slid off the desk with slow grace. "Morning? Oh, I bet it is." Her voice dripped with implication. "Good weekend?"

Before you could answer, the  second elevator chimed, and Spencer stepped out. He caught sight of the group and hesitated just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Garcia's grin turned predatory.

"Speak of the devil," she said sweetly.

You watched as Spencer’s eyes flicked over the bullpen, taking in the scene, taking in you. There was a tightness to his jaw, the faintest blush colouring his cheeks, but he kept his stride steady as he crossed to his desk.

Garcia’s grin widened as she gave Spencer a slow once-over. She tilted her head, voice sweet but laced with mischief.

“You’re walking a little funny this morning, Doctor Reid.”

The words hung in the air. There was a beat of silence, just long enough for the implication to land.

Spencer froze, the colour rising sharply to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure how to respond.

Without a word, he hurried to his desk.

Garcia just smiled, looking far too pleased with herself.

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, that explains a lot."

Emily smirked, her gaze flicking between you and Spencer. "Guess all that arguing was just foreplay, huh?"

JJ, walking in with a coffee in hand, raised her brows as she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Did I miss something, or is this just Monday morning chaos?"

Morgan chuckled. "You missed the revelation of the century."

You set your bag down, refusing to let your smile slip. You didn’t plan to deny anything, but that didn’t mean you were about to serve up details either.

Garcia tilted her head, her grin unrelenting. "Come on, you’re not really gonna act like I didn’t catch you two, are you? Phones don’t just spend the night together by accident."

Morgan crossed his arms, looking smug. "Makes sense now. All that tension? All those arguments? Classic case of unresolved chemistry."

JJ grinned, her tone teasing. "Yeah, we just didn’t realize how unresolved it really was."

Emily laughed. "You know, I always thought it was going to end with one of them throwing a punch. Turns out it ended… differently."

That earned a round of laughter, and Spencer, though he kept his head down, wasn’t fooling anyone. His ears were burning red.

Garcia beamed. "Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you worked it out. This place was almost getting boring without the two of you bickering like an old married couple."

"Turns out they just needed to get it out of their system," Morgan added, grinning.

Emily shook her head with a laugh. "Or maybe they just found a better way to argue."

The laughter that followed was easy, though under it, you could feel the curiosity lingering. Questions were brewing, but before anyone could push further, Hotch's office door opened. The sound was enough to pull everyone's attention back to their desks, a momentary reprieve.

But you knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The morning passed in steady rhythm, but every so often, you felt it—Spencer’s gaze. Quick, flickering glances from across the bullpen. At first, you thought nothing of it. Habit, maybe. Or the lingering awkwardness after the weekend.

But then you caught it again. His eyes weren’t on your face.

You crossed to the filing cabinet, crouching to sift through the lower drawer. Papers shuffled under your fingers as you searched, but the weight of his gaze pressed against you, lingering. Curious. You straightened, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see Spencer quickly look away, his focus snapping back to his desk with suspicious intensity.

Strange.

You brushed it off and returned to your desk. But when you bent again—this time to reach for a file on the lower shelf—you caught it once more. A fleeting glance, sharp and quick, his jaw tightening as his eyes darted away.

You frowned slightly, puzzled. What was he looking at?

It wasn’t until you sat back and caught the way his gaze dropped—just for a second—that it clicked.

Ah.

You bit back a smile.

Leaning forward, you reached for your coffee, letting your blouse shift just enough, casual and effortless. You didn’t look at him, not yet, but you felt the shift in the air, that slight tension when someone’s trying not to stare.

And when you glanced up, there it was. His eyes, caught mid-glance, guilt flashing before he dragged them back to his desk.

Still, his blush gave him away.

You said nothing. Just smiled to yourself and turned back to your work, already thinking of how you’d make him squirm later.

Suddenly Garcia strolled into the bullpen, her heels clicking softly as she made her way to your desk. She perched on the edge, her voice low and laced with mischief. “So,” she started, eyes bright, “have a fun weekend?”

You looked up, keeping your tone light. “Relaxing. You?”

Garcia hummed, leaning in slightly. “Oh, quiet. Except for when I noticed two certain phones spending the night together. That definitely kept things interesting.”

You lifted an eyebrow, teasing. “Must’ve been a wild night for the phones.”

Emily, not even pretending to be focused on work, grinned. "Maybe the phones are dating now. Saved us all a lot of time waiting for them to catch up."

Laughter rippled through the bullpen, and you fought to keep your smile in check.

Garcia’s grin only widened as she turned back to you, her voice low and conspiratorial. “So… is it serious, or just a one-time thing for the phones?”

You took a slow sip of your coffee. “Guess you'll have to keep tracking to find out.”

Garcia chuckled, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, don’t tempt me.”

Garcia didn’t waste time. As soon as she slipped off your desk, she strolled toward Spencer’s, her steps light and casual. She leaned in just slightly, keeping her voice low but sweet.

"So," she said, eyes sparkling with mischief, "was it just a fun little weekend, or should I be picking out engagement gifts?"

Spencer glanced up, his expression calm but guarded. "That’s a little fast, don’t you think?"

Garcia smiled, undeterred. "Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes things just… click. Fast and hard."

He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "I’d say it’s more complicated than that."

Garcia tilted her head, her grin widening. "Complicated is just code for interesting. And I love interesting."

Spencer gave a faint, knowing smile but said nothing more.

She lingered for a second longer, clearly waiting for something—anything—but when Spencer simply returned to his file, she straightened with a soft, playful sigh. "Fine, be mysterious. But don’t think I’m done yet."

And with that, she walked off, not quite satiated.

The teasing air didn’t go away. It hummed beneath every glance, every smirk that lingered a second too long. Every time you crossed the bullpen, there was an expectant pause, like the team was waiting for something to slip.

Morgan, leaning back in his chair, caught your eye as you passed with a file. His grin was slow, sharp. “Careful, sweetness. Don’t throw your back out carrying that—though I guess you’ve already had a good workout this weekend.”

You didn’t miss a step, just shot him a look over your shoulder. “I can handle it.”

But when you glanced at Spencer, his gaze wasn’t on the file. His eyes dipped lower, lingering for a beat too long. His jaw flexed, and he shifted in his seat, flipping a page in the file like it could cover the moment.

Emily caught it too, biting back a grin. She met your gaze and gave an exaggerated wink.

You kept walking, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck.

But Spencer wasn’t doing as well. His gaze flicked up quickly, catching yours before darting away, his fingers drumming a little too fast against the desk.

Later, in the file room, you were too focused on the folder in your hands to hear the door open. Too focused to notice the soft click of it shutting.

You didn’t hear him until you felt him—until his body pressed against your back, warm and solid. His hands landed on the shelves on either side of you, caging you in.

You froze, breath hitching as the heat of him curled around you.

Then his mouth was at your ear, his breath warm, his voice low enough to be dangerous. “Why today?" The words dragged slow and rough. "Why wear something so damn tempting?”

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs. You didn’t turn. Couldn’t. "Didn’t realize it was a problem."

Spencer’s laugh was quiet, low, curling at the edges. His nose skimmed the line of your jaw, a touch so light it left your skin burning. "It is," he said, the words nothing but a whisper. "Because I can’t think about anything else."

You felt his hand drift up, fingers brushing against your side, tracing the curve of your waist, so soft it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingertips skimmed the edge of your blouse, lingering just beneath the fabric’s hem.

Your breath stuttered, caught somewhere between a gasp and a challenge. "Maybe I wanted you distracted."

That earned a sharp inhale, but his laugh came dark and quiet. "Careful," he murmured. "You’re going to get exactly what you’re asking for."

Then, in one smooth motion, he turned you. His hands slid to your waist, firm and sure, and your back met the shelves with a quiet thud.

You barely had time to react before his body pressed close, his hand bracing beside your head. His other hand drifted along your hip, teasing, slow, fingers tracing the shape of you.

And then he was leaning in, his lips brushing close to yours—not touching, but close enough to feel the heat. Close enough to taste the possibility.

Your breath caught, chest rising to meet his. He stayed there, hovering, letting the anticipation crackle between you.

When you tried to close the gap, just a little, his hand slid up to your jaw, holding you still. His thumb traced your cheek, soft and maddening.

"Not yet," he whispered, his lips barely ghosting yours. His eyes were dark, heavy with want. "You don’t get to have it that easy."

The words sent heat spiralling low, sharp and hot.

You swallowed hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. "You’re cruel," you breathed.

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Only when you deserve it."

And then his hand was gone, trailing down your side like a promise as he stepped back. The air felt colder without him, and your legs barely held steady beneath you.

But Spencer wasn’t unaffected. His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than before. He hesitated for half a second—like he might take it back, close the distance—but the sound of footsteps outside snapped the tension.

He turned, slipping from the room without a word.

And it wasn’t hard to notice the way his pants fit tighter than when he’d come in.

You stayed against the shelves, trying to catch your breath. Your skin still burned where he’d touched you. Your lips still tingled from the ghost of what almost was.

The afternoon stretched, slow and deliberate, each hour marked by lingering glances and barely-there touches. The teasing still hadn’t let up. Emily’s knowing looks, Morgan’s smirks, and JJ’s subtle glances over her coffee mug all pressed against the edges of your focus, reminding you of the tension that simmered beneath the surface.

Spencer tried to keep his attention on paperwork, but every time you shifted in your seat or reached for a file, his eyes flicked toward you. Quick, but not quick enough. And when you caught him, he'd glance away, his jaw tight and the tips of his ears faintly flushed.

You weren’t doing much better. Every brush of his hand when passing a folder, every moment his gaze dipped lower than it should, sparked a quiet heat beneath your skin. The tension built in the space between you—heavy and electric.

Morgan chuckled low, catching Spencer’s lingering stare. “If that’s how you look at her here, I can’t imagine how you look at her when it’s just the two of you.”

Emily didn’t miss a beat. “Bet they don’t argue nearly as much when it’s just them and locked doors.”

Morgan grinned. “Nah, I bet they argue more. Just… with less clothing.”

JJ glanced up, her smile sly. “Well, as long as they showed up to work in one piece, I guess they figured it out.”

Laughter rippled through the bullpen, and you fought to keep your face neutral, though heat prickled at the back of your neck. You didn’t dare glance at Spencer.

But you didn’t have to. His hand twitched around his pen, his shoulders stiff. He flipped a page, eyes down, like the paper could shield him. The flush along his cheeks was unmistakable, and he shifted slightly in his seat, jaw tight.

Emily leaned back, still grinning. “Come on, Reid, you’re the genius. What’s the probability of you making it through today without getting caught staring again?”

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t look up. “Low,” he admitted quietly.

The bullpen broke into another round of laughter, and you pressed your lips together to hide your smile. You weren’t sure if it was crueller to leave him hanging or to come to his rescue—but either way, it was definitely fun.

By the time the day edged toward its close, it felt like every second was strung tight, pulled taut with what neither of you said out loud. The office felt too small, the distance between desks too wide.

You stepped out of the break room and nearly collided with him in the hall. His shoulder brushed yours, his hand steadying you with a touch low on your back—too brief, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“Your place?” he murmured, his voice low, words skimming warm against your ear.

You didn’t turn, just glanced at him sideways, lips curving. “After work.”

He smiled, slow and sure. “I’ll bring dinner.”

And then he was gone, leaving you there with a heartbeat that wouldn’t slow and a promise hanging in the air. The rest of the day stretched endlessly, every tick of the clock a reminder of how close, and yet how far, the evening was.

When the day finally wound down, you gathered your things, pulse thrumming. Spencer wasn’t far behind, though neither of you said a word. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Morgan’s voice broke the quiet hum. “Don’t stay up too late, lovebirds. Gotta be sharp for work tomorrow.”

Spencer paused, his hand hovering over his satchel, gaze flicking up to meet yours before dropping again.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be sure to send him home before curfew.”

That earned a ripple of laughter, light but sharp enough to make Spencer’s ears tint pink. He ducked his head, focusing a little too hard on his bag.

You exchanged no more words, but as you moved toward the elevator, you felt his stare, steady and warm. A glance back caught it—his eyes lingered, heavy with something unspoken.

The doors slid open, and you stepped inside. Just before they closed, Spencer caught your gaze again. A subtle tilt of his head. A silent promise.

When you finally got home, the weight of the day lingered in your bones. You kicked off your shoes, rolling your shoulders as you took in the quiet of your apartment. The teasing at work had been relentless, the stolen glances with Spencer torturous, and the slow crawl of time utterly unforgiving. Now, the waiting was finally over.

You had just settled onto the couch when a knock at the door sent a thrill through you. When you pulled it open, Spencer was standing there, slightly out of breath, brown paper bags in his hands, his messenger bag still slung over his shoulder. His tie was loose, and a few strands of hair had fallen over his forehead.

“Delivery,” he said, holding up the bags.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the door frame. “You’ve never been a delivery guy in your life.”

Spencer stepped closer, eyes twinkling. “I brought food. That counts.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped aside to let him in. He made a beeline for the coffee table, setting down the food before shrugging off his bag. You followed, grabbing plates while he started unpacking the containers.

“You better not have picked something weird,” you teased, eyeing the bags suspiciously.

Spencer scoffed. “I have excellent taste.”

“You have questionable taste.”

“Only in women,” he quipped, earning a playful glare.

You settled on the couch with Spencer, the plates of Chinese food steaming between you. You talked about your workday, the teasing still fresh in your mind. Each shared story was met with laughter and the occasional eye roll, but there was a comfort in the banter that went deeper than the surface. It was easy, this back-and-forth, the way you could poke at each other’s buttons without fear of retribution.

“Speaking of, I think we may have permanently lost our credibility as professionals today.”

You snorted. “We had credibility to begin with?”

Spencer gave you a pointed look. “I did.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, if you’re so reputable, you should’ve been able to keep a straight face when Emily caught you staring at my cleavage.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with one hand. “That was humiliating.”

“You turned red,” you teased, nudging his knee with yours.

“I panicked! There was no good way to recover from that!”

“You could’ve denied it.”

Spencer shot you a dry look. “And no one would’ve believed me. Besides, after that, there was Derek.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh god, yeah. He looked so smug when he caught you adjusting your tie like it would somehow erase the fact that you got caught drooling.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” Spencer muttered.

“Mmm,” you hummed, dragging out the sound. “That’s not what I heard.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Do you enjoy my suffering?”

You grinned. “A little.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head as he picked at his food. “At least I wasn’t the only one suffering. You had Garcia and JJ tag-teaming you all day.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “It was relentless. Garcia kept looking at me like she was proud—like I finally made a respectable life decision by dating you.”

Spencer smirked. “Well, I am an excellent choice.”

You shot him a look. “You’re a choice.”

His smirk widened. “A choice you chose.”

You huffed, nudging his knee with your foot. “Don’t get cocky. And JJ wasn’t any better—every time I looked at her, she was just smiling at me. Like this soft, knowing little smile. And when I asked what she was grinning about, she just shrugged and said, ‘Oh, nothing.’”

Spencer chuckled. “That’s worse than outright teasing.”

“I know!” You threw your hands up. “And then she had the audacity to say, ‘You two make sense.’”

Spencer tilted his head. “That’s kind of sweet.”

You pointed a fork at him. “It was smug and you know it.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t argue with you.”

“You never argue with me,” you shot back sarcastically, eyes twinkling.

The sarcasm goes right over his head. “Now that’s not true.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fair point. You argue with me about everything.”

His lips twitched. “Not everything.”

You arched a brow. “Okay, name one thing we haven’t argued about.”

Spencer opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed. “Give me a minute.”

You smirked. “Exactly.”

You nudged Spencer’s knee with your foot, smirking as you picked at your food. “You remember the sticky note war?”

Spencer groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’m reminding you.”

It had started with a single correction—Spencer, unable to resist his need for precision, had scribbled an annotation onto one of your reports. You retaliated by leaving a sticky note on his desk that read, Clarification: You’re insufferable.

The next morning, you arrived to find a meticulously written response stuck to your monitor: Insubstantial claim. Please provide evidence.

And so it escalated.

Every day brought new additions. You scrawled sarcastic commentary on his files; he responded with passive-aggressive footnotes. You left him a sticky note with a simple No one likes a know-it-all. He countered with a full printout of a psychological study on passive-aggressive behaviour, highlighted and annotated just for you.

You declared war.

One evening, after everyone had left, you gathered every sticky note in the office and wallpapered Spencer’s desk. His chair, his drawers, his keyboard—everything was covered in a sea of bright squares, you wrote on as many as you could. Some were snarky 'You brought this upon yourself', some were outright taunts 'Can’t clarify your way out of this one, genius', and some were just ridiculous 'Fun fact: You're annoying'.

When Spencer walked in the next morning, he stopped in the doorway, staring in stunned silence.

You had never seen him so speechless.

Even now, as you sat together on your couch, Spencer was still shaking his head at the memory. “Do you know how long it took me to get rid of all of them?”

You grinned. “You should’ve surrendered.”

Spencer huffed. “I don’t surrender.”

“And yet, you never retaliated.”

Spencer took a slow bite of his food, eyes narrowing. “Because I knew I couldn’t win. You’re ruthless.”

You held up a finger. “Strategic.”

“Unhinged.”

You shrugged, smug. “Admit it. I won.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. “You may have won that battle.”

You smirked. “And the war.”

He gave you a look but didn’t argue. That was admission enough.

Spencer scooped up a bite of rice, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you nearly buried me alive in paperwork.”

You snorted. “You act like I did it on purpose.”

Spencer levelled you with a look. “You stacked those files like a reckless maniac. I barely touched one, and the whole thing came down like an avalanche.”

You smirked around a bite of food. “Maybe you should’ve had faster reflexes.”

He scoffed. “I was ambushed.”

You could still picture it perfectly. Spencer had wandered over to your desk, reaching for a file you’d worked on. But the moment he slid it free from the pile, the precariously stacked tower of paperwork had given way, cascading down on top of him in a flurry of folders and sticky notes.

You had turned just in time to see him flail, letting out a startled yelp as he was buried under the mess.

It had taken you a full thirty seconds to stop laughing before you actually helped him.

“I thought I was going to die under there,” Spencer grumbled, stabbing at his food.

You grinned. “And what a tragic way to go. Drowned in documentation.”

Spencer huffed. “And then, after all that, you had the audacity to lecture me on why my filing system is inferior.”

You shrugged. “It is.”

Spencer set his plate down, turning fully toward you. “No. It is efficient, logical, and, most importantly, does not result in near-death experiences.”

You pointed at him with your chopsticks. “My system works for me.”

“If by ‘works,’ you mean you have to dig through mountains of papers every time you need something, then sure.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s organized chaos.”

“It’s a safety hazard.”

You grinned. “And yet, you still went digging through my stuff.”

Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Never again.”

Spencer tapped his fingers against his plate, eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, I still haven’t forgiven you for the pen-clicking war.”

You smirked. “Because you lost?”

His scoff was immediate. “I did not lose.”

“Oh, you definitely lost.”

It had started with the smallest complaint. Spencer had been sitting across from you in the bullpen, diligently working on something, when he suddenly exhaled sharply.

“Can you stop that?”

You looked up, feigning innocence. “Stop what?”

“The pen.” He gestured vaguely at your hand, where you had been clicking your pen absentmindedly against your notepad.

You paused—then clicked it one more time, just to test him.

Spencer’s jaw tightened. “That.”

A slow smirk stretched across your lips. “Oh, this?” Click.

“Yes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s annoying,” he said flatly.

That had been the moment you decided to make it your mission to annoy him as much as possible.

You clicked the pen relentlessly, varying the rhythm to keep him guessing. Sometimes, you’d click it twice, pause, then click it again just when he thought it was over. Other times, you’d hold it near his ear and click it absentmindedly while reading.

Spencer had lasted exactly twenty-three minutes before he retaliated.

He started talking—rambling, really—about anything and everything. The mating habits of deep-sea squid, the complete history of the Dewey Decimal System, the statistical probability of tripping while carrying a full cup of coffee.

The worst part? He was staring directly at you the entire time, waiting for your patience to crack.

It became a game.

You clicked the pen during every pause in his speech. He started filling those pauses with increasingly useless facts.

By lunchtime, Emily had thrown a crumpled napkin at both of you and declared she was going to start charging for babysitting.

Spencer sighed, shaking his head at the memory. “You never fight fair.”

You grinned. “Oh, I fight smart.”

Spencer gave you a look. “You fight dirty.”

“And yet,” you said, biting into your food, “you still lost.”

Spencer muttered something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched. Even in defeat, he couldn’t help but be entertained.

Spencer pointed his fork at you, expression serious. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the peanut butter and jelly incident.”

You smirked. “Oh, you mean the time you were wrong?”

He scoffed. “I was not wrong.”

“You were so wrong.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “You threw a sandwich at me.”

“You deserved it.”

It had started in the break room, a simple, innocent lunch break. You were at the counter, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, carefully spreading peanut butter on one slice and jelly on the other. Spencer had wandered in, probably to refill his coffee, when he happened to glance at what you were doing.

And then he spoke the words that sealed his fate.

“You know, you’re making that incorrectly.”

You froze mid-spread, turning your head ever so slightly. “Excuse me?”

Spencer stepped closer, peering at your sandwich with an air of intellectual superiority. “You’re supposed to spread the peanut butter on one slice, then put the jelly on top of it, on the same slice, before putting the other piece of bread on top.”

You gaped at him. “That’s—Spencer, that’s insane.”

“It’s practical,” he argued. “If you put the jelly on a separate slice, it soaks into the bread too quickly and makes it soggy. The peanut butter acts as a protective barrier.”

You narrowed your eyes. “First of all, if you eat it immediately, the bread doesn’t have time to get soggy. Second of all, spreading jelly on top of peanut butter is just wrong—it doesn’t spread properly, and it gets all mixed up. You’re ruining the integrity of the sandwich.”

Spencer made a face. “You’re overcomplicating a simple process.”

You huffed. “And you’re making a mess. If you put the jelly on top of peanut butter, it slides around when you try to spread it! You end up with uneven distribution, which completely defeats the point of making a sandwich in the first place.”

Spencer crossed his arms. “I think you’re just bad at spreading.”

You inhaled sharply. “Take that back.”

“No.”

So you did what any reasonable person would do. You grabbed the top slice of your sandwich, fully loaded with jelly, and threw it at his chest.

The break room went silent.

Spencer stared at you, then slowly looked down at the smear of jelly now adorning his vest.

You sipped your drink to hide your grin. “Oops.”

Even now, sitting beside you, Spencer shook his head. “You know, most people would’ve just verbally disagreed.”

You grinned, nudging his knee. “And most people wouldn’t have deserved to get assaulted with a PB&J.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Spencer glanced down at his feet, then back at you, a slow smirk curling at his lips. “I assume you’ve finally accepted that matching socks are inherently unlucky.”

You scoffed, setting down your chopsticks. “No, I’ve just given up arguing with someone who’s clearly delusional.”

Spencer hummed, clearly amused. “That’s not what you said the day you tried to force me to wear a matching pair.”

You groaned. “Because you were about to testify in court, Spencer! You were literally representing the entire BAU, and I thought maybe—just maybe—you could act like a normal person for one day.”

Spencer shrugged. “And I still gave flawless testimony. The jury didn’t convict based on my socks.”

“You don’t know that!”

The argument had started that morning at the office. You had stepped into the conference room where Spencer was reviewing his notes for court. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, and his slacks had ridden up just enough to reveal an egregious sight—one sock was navy with tiny books on it, and the other was bright green with planets.

You had stopped in your tracks, horrified. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Spencer barely glanced up. “Good morning to you, too.”

You pointed accusingly. “You are about to testify in a murder trial looking like a child whose parents didn’t do their laundry.”

Spencer blinked at you. “That’s dramatic.”

“No, this is dramatic—” You dug into your bag and pulled out the emergency pair of black dress socks you kept for specifically this reason. “Put these on.”

Spencer finally looked up, lips twitching. “You carry emergency socks?”

“I carry emergency Spencer socks because I knew you’d pull something like this.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I appreciate the effort, but I can’t wear matching socks.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You can, you just won’t. What is your issue with matching socks?”

Spencer lifted a single finger, as if about to explain quantum mechanics. “The last time I wore matching socks, I had the worst day of my life.”

You folded your arms. “Oh, really?”

Spencer leaned back against the couch, his lips twitching in amusement. “It was years ago. Back when I was still new at the BAU, and I thought I’d try being… conventional.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”

He sighed. “Matching socks. Crisp, freshly pressed shirt. Everything put together like a normal, functioning adult.”

You snorted. “Bold choice.”

Spencer pointed at you. “A disastrous one.”

You gestured for him to continue, already intrigued.

“That morning, I got to the office early. I figured, you know, new day, fresh start, maybe I’d have a productive morning. I sat down at my desk, opened a file, and immediately knocked over my full cup of coffee. All over my case notes. Ruined. Just black ink bleeding into a giant, useless mess.”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Spencer gave you a dry look. “Then, while I was trying to salvage what I could, Hotch called me in for an urgent briefing. I grabbed the wrong file—completely irrelevant information—walked in, sat down, and didn’t realize my mistake until I opened it in front of the whole team.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Spencer shook his head. “Hotch just gave me that look—you know, the one that makes you feel like you’re six years old and getting scolded by a school principal.”

You grinned. “I know the one.”

Spencer exhaled. “So, after making a fool of myself in front of the team, I went back to my desk, only to find that my chair had mysteriously vanished.”

You frowned. “Someone took your chair?”

“No, it was still there—I just didn’t notice because I wasn’t paying attention. So I went to sit down and… missed. Completely. Ended up on the floor.”

That was it. You burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Derek nearly passed out from how hard he was laughing. I was humiliated.”

You wiped at your eyes. “Okay, but that was just one day.”

Spencer lifted a finger. “That was before I left the office for the day.”

Your laughter slowed. “There’s more?”

“Oh, there’s more. I got caught in a sudden downpour without an umbrella, missed my bus, and when I finally got home, I realized I’d left my apartment keys in my desk drawer at work.”

You winced. “Oof.”

“Had to take a cab all the way back to the office just to get them. By the time I made it home, I was drenched, exhausted, and swore that I would never wear matching socks again.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous.”

Spencer smirked. “And yet, I haven’t had a day that bad since.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not proof of anything.”

“It’s proof enough for me.”

Spencer stretched an arm along the back of the couch, fingers idly brushing against your shoulder. His other hand rested on his knee, occasionally toying with the fabric of his sleeve. The room was quiet now, the remains of dinner pushed to the side, your plates stacked neatly on the coffee table.

He shifted slightly, tilting his head toward you. “Come here.”

You raised a brow. “I am here.”

“Closer.”

There was something in the way he said it—soft, certain—that sent a pleasant hum through you. You hesitated only for a second before giving in, leaning into his space. His arm slipped down around you, pulling you snug against his chest. He exhaled in satisfaction, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm as you settled against him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content in the warmth of each other’s presence. Then Spencer sighed, his voice laced with amusement. “You know, for all the teasing today, no one brought up the pen incident.”

You tilted your head to look up at him. “The pen incident?”

Spencer smirked. “The day you nearly had a full-blown meltdown in the bullpen.”

Your eyes narrowed as the memory clicked into place. “Oh. You mean the day you stole from me?”

Spencer scoffed, feigning innocence. “Stole is a strong word.”

“No, it’s the exact word.” You poked his side for emphasis. “That was my favourite pen, Spencer.”

“Which I borrowed,” he corrected.

“You didn’t borrow it! Borrowing implies permission. You swiped it off my desk when I wasn’t looking.”

Spencer shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “I needed a pen.”

You huffed. “I needed that pen for three days.”

It had started as a minor annoyance—an everyday item that had mysteriously vanished. At first, you assumed you had misplaced it. You sifted through the papers on your desk, checked beneath your keyboard, even dug through your bag just in case. But the pen—the one pen you actually liked writing with—was nowhere to be found.

By the end of the first day, frustration had set in.

By the second, it was personal.

By the third, you were on the verge of losing your mind.

It was your pen. The only pen you liked writing with. It fit perfectly in your grip, the ink flowed just right, and unlike every other pen in the bullpen, it never smudged or skipped. Losing it wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was a betrayal.

Desperation turned into suspicion.

You turned to Emily first. “Hey, did you take my pen?”

Emily barely looked up from her file. “Nope.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

She gave you a dry look. “Yes, I’m sure. Why would I steal your pen?”

That was a fair question, but it didn’t stop you from asking Gideon and JJ the same thing.

When you got to Derek, he smirked. “You’ve been talking about this pen for three days. If I had it, trust me, you’d already know.”

And he was right—because when you finally found it, the betrayal was so immediate, so visceral, that you could feel the blood leave your face.

Across the room, Spencer sat at his desk, absently tapping the end of a very familiar-looking pen against his notebook.

Your eye twitched.

You stormed over, stopping just short of his desk. “Where did you get that?”

Spencer barely glanced up. “Hmm?”

“That pen, Spencer.” You pointed at it accusingly. “That’s my pen.”

Spencer frowned slightly and turned it over in his hand, as if just now noticing. “Oh. Huh.”

“Huh?” you repeated, incredulous. “Huh?! That’s all you have to say?”

He blinked up at you. “Well, in my defense, I needed a pen.”

“You—” You inhaled sharply, trying very hard not to strangle him in the middle of the office. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Spencer shrugged. “You were busy.”

“Oh my god.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “And when, exactly, were you planning on returning it?”

He tilted his head, thinking. “Soon?”

You gaped at him. “Soon?! Spencer, it’s been three days!”

Spencer winced. “Oh. That’s… longer than I thought.”

You snatched the pen from his hand with a dramatic flourish. “Unbelievable.”

Spencer smirked. “You could just let it go.”

You pointed the pen at him like a weapon. “I will never let this go.”

And you hadn’t.

Even now, curled up against him on the couch, you could still feel the sheer betrayal of that moment. Spencer, of course, was entirely unbothered.

He smirked, fingers still trailing idly along your arm. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

You huffed. “You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges.”

Spencer chuckled. “Oh, please. If I took another one, we’d be right back where we started.”

You gasped, scandalized. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Spencer just sipped his drink, looking far too smug.

So you made a move to sit up, feigning exasperation. “That’s it, I’m leaving.”

Before you could so much as shift away, Spencer’s arms tightened around you, pulling you firmly against him.

“Nice try,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair.

You huffed a laugh, letting yourself relax back into him. “Unbelievable.”

“Completely believable,” he corrected.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Spencer only hummed, his hold on you unwavering. You could feel the faint vibration of his laughter against your back, warm and steady. He knew exactly what he was doing. As much as you wanted to keep up your righteous indignation… you let him win this one.

With a mischievous spark in your eye, you turned in his arms. He blinked in surprise, his smirk fading into something softer, something hopeful. You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his, and suddenly the air around you was charged with a different kind of tension.

You straddled his hips, deepening the kiss, feeling the heat between you grow as his hands found your waist. His fingers flexed, holding you closer, like he was afraid you’d pull away again. But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now.

Your hands fisted into his hair gently tugging, pulling him closer, as if you could somehow merge into one being. Spencer’s mouth moved with yours, exploring, claiming, until you both had to break away for air.

One hand skimmed down his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. It was like a metronome, keeping time with the rhythm of your own. Your thumb traced the line of his collarbone, feeling the heat of his skin, and then lower, the soft fabric of his shirt giving way to the firmness of his chest. His breath hitched when you reached the first button, and his eyes darkened, watching you intently.

Your hand found the hem of his shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. You felt the warmth of his skin as you slid your hand under the fabric, feeling the ridge of muscle, the smoothness of his stomach. His belt buckle was cold against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. You traced the leather, then the button of his slacks, teasing him gently, watching his reaction.

Spencer’s eyes fell closed, his breath shallow as your hand played over his body. You could feel his restraint, the effort it took for him to not take over, to let you set the pace. But when your fingers hovered over the zipper of his pants, he groaned, a low, needy sound that sent a thrill through you.

With deliberate slowness, you unbuckled his belt, watching his stomach muscles tighten in anticipation. The leather slid through the loops with a whisper. Then, with the same teasing grace, you pulled down the zipper. His pants parted, revealing his boxers, and the thick outline of his arousal pressing against the fabric.

Spencer’s breath was coming in short, ragged bursts. His eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils dilated with desire. You reached into his pants, feeling the heat of him, and he trembled at your touch. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every move.

With a gentle tug, you pulled his slacks down enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. His half-hard cock strained against the fabric, begging for release. The sight of him, so vulnerable and eager, had you biting back a groan. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin as you kissed him.

His hips arched slightly as you traced the outline of his cock with your fingertips. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping his lips. The fabric was thin, almost translucent, and you could feel the heat of him, the firmness growing as your touch grew bolder.

You tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock. It bobbed between you, half-hard and flushed with need. Spencer’s hand shot out, gripping the edge of the couch, knuckles white as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over the tip. He was exquisite, the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability.

With a wicked smile, you hovered just out of reach, watching his eyes follow your every move. Then, with a deliberate slowness that had him groaning, you let a bead of saliva pool on your tongue, dropping it onto his cock like a warm, wet kiss. The saliva trickled down, painting a glistening path that made his length pulse with anticipation.

As Spencer’s eyes grew darker, you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, feeling the velvety skin and the pulse of his desire. He hissed in a breath, his body jerking slightly as you began to stroke him. Your movements were gentle, exploratory, learning the rhythm that made him shiver with pleasure.

You watched his face, the way his mouth fell open and his eyes grew heavy-lidded. His chest was rising and falling rapidly now, the muscles tensing and releasing with each shallow breath. You could feel his cock thicken in your grip, growing harder as you stroked, your thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just beneath the head. His hips rolled into your touch, seeking more.

With a gentle squeeze, you quickened the pace, your hand moving in a firm, steady rhythm that had Spencer’s eyes sliding shut. His head fell back, a soft groan escaping him. His hand found your thigh, his fingertips digging in as you continued to pleasure him. The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, the slick noise of skin on skin, the rustle of fabric as his hips tried to meet your hand.

You leaned in, kissing along his jawline, feeling the stubble scrape against your lips. Spencer’s hand tightened on your thigh, his body tense as he tried to hold back. But you knew him—knew the way his breathing grew erratic, knew the tension in his muscles that signalled his impending release.

With your other hand, you reached down, cupping his balls gently. They were warm, heavy with need, and Spencer’s entire body jerked at the contact. His eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with yours as you began to massage them in time with your strokes. His hips bucked, pushing his cock further into your hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

You could feel the tension coiling in him, tightening with every pass of your thumb, every squeeze of your fingers. You knew you had him right there, just on the edge, ready to fall. Spencer’s breath grew ragged, his chest heaving as he fought for control.

And then, just as you felt the first tremor of his release, you pulled your hand away.

Spencer’s eyes shot open, his body tensing in protest. He stared at you, his pupils wide, his cock still hard and glistening with your saliva. For a moment, he was frozen, his breath stuttering in his chest.

You watched him, your expression one of sweet innocence, a stark contrast to the wickedness of your action. You hadn’t moved away entirely, but your hand was now hovering over his cock, teasing him with the promise of touch but delivering nothing.

Spencer’s eyes snapped to yours, confusion and desperation warring in their depths. “What—what are you doing?” he managed to rasp out.

You smirked. “That’s for stealing my pen, Dr. Reid.”

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening into fists against the cushions. His voice was low, dangerously controlled. “You really want to play this game?”

You smiled. “I already won.”

The sound he made—half growl, half strained laugh—told you exactly how much trouble you were in.

But you didn’t care. You took hold of him again, your thumb pressing against the slit of his cock, smearing the precum that had gathered there. Spencer’s eyes squeezed shut, his body bowing off the couch.

You leaned in, your mouth hovering just above his. “Say it, Spencer. Say I win.”

Spencer’s eyes snapped open, his pupils dilated with lust. He didn’t speak, but his grip on the couch tightened, his hips rolling up into your touch, begging for release.

With a smug smile, you leaned in closer, whispering, “Say it, Spencer.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mix of desire and frustration. He was so close, and you revelled in the power of holding him there, teetering on the brink.

“You win,” Spencer finally gritted out, his voice a low rumble.

Your grin widened, and you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his mouth. “Say it like you mean it.”

“You win, okay?” Spencer’s voice was a desperate whine. “Just—please, don’t stop.”

With a wicked chuckle, you leaned down, blowing softly on his heated flesh. Your breath sent a shiver down his spine, making his cock pulse in your hand. Spencer’s eyes rolled back, his body trembling with need.

“Please, your mouth…” he whined out, the desperation in his voice music to your ears.

With a smug smile, you leaned in, finally granting his wish. You swiped your tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling him twitch in your grip. Spencer’s eyes flew open, his gaze locking onto yours as you took him in your mouth.

The sound that escaped him was raw, primal—a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sent a jolt straight to your core. You felt your own arousal spike, the warm wetness between your thighs growing as you tasted him.

You took him in deep, letting your tongue swirl around the head of his cock before pulling back, teasing the slit with the tip of your tongue. Spencer’s hand found the back of your head, his grip tight but not demanding, urging you to take him deeper. You complied, his cock filling your mouth as you took him to the back of your throat, the muscles there tightening around him.

He groaned, his hips thrusting up slightly, and you had to fight the urge to gag. You pulled back, taking a deep breath, and then took him again, swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft before flicking it against his balls. Spencer’s entire body tensed, his hand in your hair tightening as he tried to control himself.

You could feel the pressure building in him, the way his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. You quickened your pace, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, stroking him faster, harder. Spencer’s eyes were squeezed shut now, his teeth clenched, his body straining for release.

And then, with a sudden, fierce determination, you increased the suction, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him in deep, the head of his cock touching the back of your throat. He groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his hips jerking upward as if trying to bury himself even deeper.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he whispered, the words barely coherent.

You took Spencer’s praise as the ultimate victory in this playful battle of wills. His hand in your hair grew more insistent, his hips jerking as you worked him closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of your tongue was met with a strangled sound of pleasure that sent a thrill through your body.

Suddenly, Spencer’s breath grew ragged, his hips stuttering upward, and you knew he was there. You sucked harder, feeling his cock pulse against your tongue. And then, with a strangled groan, he came, hot and thick in your mouth. You swallowed, savouring the taste of him, feeling his body shudder beneath you.

Spencer’s hand in your hair tightened almost painfully, but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. You continued to suck, drawing out his orgasms, milking him until he was boneless and panting. His body jerked with each swipe of your tongue, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his release.

He was panting, his chest heaving, once he had enough you sat back, licking your lips. The smug satisfaction in your gaze was unmistakeable. Spencer’s eyes remained shut, his expression one of pure bliss, as he tried to catch his breath.

But before he could recover, you decided to up the ante. With a sultry smile, you stood up, peeling your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. His eyes snapped open, watching in surprise as you revealed your bra, the swell of your breasts above the fabric.

"When you're done here," you purred, "meet me in the bedroom."

You sauntered away, leaving Spencer stunned and still half-dressed on the couch. His eyes followed your swaying hips until you disappeared around the corner. He took a moment to compose himself, his heart racing, and then with a deep breath, he stood and followed.

The moment he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes widened. There you were, naked and kneeling in the centre of the bed, the soft glow of the lamplight casting shadows across your bare skin. The sight of you was like a punch to the gut—beautiful, tempting, and utterly irresistible.

Spencer’s cock twitched with renewed interest. You beckoned to him with a crooked finger, your eyes dark with desire. “I want you inside me, Spencer. Now.”

Without a word, he shed his clothes. You watched as his shirt and pants fell to the floor, revealing his naked form, his chest heaving with excitement. You bit your bottom lip as he climbed onto the bed, his body moving with a grace that belied his usual clumsiness.

Spencer’s hands found yours, pulling you towards the edge of the mattress. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours as he positioned himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he reached between your thighs, feeling the slick heat that awaited him. His thumb found your clit, and you moaned into his mouth, your hips arching to meet his touch.

He broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours as he dipped his fingers into your wetness. You watched as he pulled them away, glistening with your arousal, and brought them to his lips. The sight of him tasting you was intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savouring the flavour, and when they opened again, you could see the hunger in them—for you.

Spencer pushed you back, his hands firm but gentle as he dragged your hips to the edge of the bed. Your legs parted wider, inviting him in, and he didn’t disappoint. He hovered over you, his cock standing proudly, the head nudging at your entrance as he kissed his way down your neck. His touch was feather-light, teasing, as if he was afraid to break the delicate spell that had been cast over you both.

He stopped at your breasts, his eyes darkening with desire as he cupped them in his palms. His thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples, drawing gasps from you. He squeezed, gently at first, feeling the weight of them in his hands, the way your body responded to his touch.

Your back arched, pushing your chest up to meet his, silently begging for more. Spencer didn’t disappoint. He rolled your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the pressure increasing until you were panting, your eyes fluttering shut. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you crave his mouth on your skin.

He lowered his head, his hot breath washing over your sensitive peaks, making them pebble even more. He licked at one, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core. The cold air followed, making you gasp as your nipples tightened even further. Spencer chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

With a smirk, he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. The combination of heat and cold was exquisite, making you squirm beneath him. He took his time, savouring each taste, each reaction. His tongue swirled, his teeth grazed, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every flick of his tongue.

Once he had his fill, Spencer took hold of his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy lips in a delicious tease. The sensation was maddening, and you reached for his hips, trying to pull him closer, needing him inside you.

He could tease you, try to turn the tables and get revenge for earlier, but the truth was, you had wrecked him. And Spencer Reid was man enough to admit defeat. It didn’t help that he was also desperate to sink into you.

With a groan, he positioned the tip of his cock at your slick entrance. Your eyes went wide, anticipation building as you felt the blunt pressure of him pushing in. And then, without warning, he grabbed your legs, lifting them up and over his shoulders. The move was swift and decisive, leaving you open to him, exposed and ready.

He thrust into you, the head of his cock parting your folds and filling you in one smooth stroke. Your body took a moment to adjust to the sudden fullness, the shock of his entry sending a bolt of pleasure through you. You gasped, your nails digging into the comforter as he pushed deeper, filling you completely.

Spencer held still, his eyes locked on yours as you both felt the connection. He was so thick, so hard, and the way he stretched you felt like he was claiming you. He began to move, setting a slow, torturous pace that had you biting your lip to keep from screaming out. Each time he pushed into you, it was like a wave crashing over your senses, filling you up with pleasure until you thought you’d drown.

With every thrust, he put all his weight behind it, pushing deep and retreating almost to the tip before plunging back in again. His eyes never left yours, watching as you felt each inch of him, your body stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You could see the fascination in his gaze as he watched himself disappear into your warmth, his cock disappearing into your body as if it were made for him. And maybe it was—the way your walls clamped down around him, the way your hips rolled to meet each of his thrusts, it certainly felt like it.

Spencer groaned, unable to tear his gaze from the place where your bodies met. The sight was almost too much—the way your pussy swallowed him whole, the way your juices coated his shaft. His hand moved to your hip, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

Your breasts jiggled erratically with each pounding thrust, the nipples hard and sensitive from his earlier attention. The erotic sight was more than Spencer could handle—his eyes were glued to the bounce, watching as your body reacted to his every move.

With a roar that was part passion and part animalistic need, Spencer bent you in half. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your body arched, giving him the most intimate access to your depths. The new angle allowed him to drive harder and deeper, his cock plunging into you without mercy.

Your whines grew louder, your voice hoarse from the pleasure that was bordering on pain. The friction was intense, and the way he filled you up was almost too much. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling in your stomach, tightening your muscles around him.

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. You could feel every vein, every throb of his cock, and it was driving you wild.

Spencer’s pace was relentless, his hips moving like a piston, driving in and out of you with a ferocity that was almost frightening. But you were lost in the sensation, unable to think, unable to do anything but take what he was giving you. You were at his mercy, your body his to do with as he desires.

The orgasm that was building inside of you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was as if every nerve ending in your body was alight with pleasure, each thrust of Spencer’s cock sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. It was intense, almost painful in its intensity, and you could feel it coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap.

You gasped out the words, “I’m close, Spencer. So close,” your voice breathless and desperate. His eyes snapped to yours, his own gaze filled with a fierce determination to push you over the edge. He picked up the pace, his strokes growing faster, harder.

And then, as if reading your thoughts, his hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. The pressure was just right, the rhythm in sync with his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure skyrocketing as he stroked you, increasing the intensity by tenfold. Your body tightened around him, your muscles clenching and releasing in an erratic dance that had him groaning in response.

You were so close, so very close. The orgasm was building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to consume you. You could feel it, the impending release, the wave about to crash down on you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your breath coming in shallow pants, and when Spencer’s thumb slid against your clit with just the right amount of force, you almost yelled out.

The sensation was like a bolt of lightning, striking you at your very core. Your body arched off the bed, back bowing as much as it could as the orgasm hit. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire, pleasure coursing through your veins like molten lava. Your pussy clenched around his cock, squeezing him in a vice-like grip as you felt a rush of liquid spill out of you.

You had never felt anything like this before—the intensity of your climax was so powerful that it was almost painful. Your muscles clenched and released in rapid succession, each spasm sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, watching as you gushed around him, your juices coating his thighs.

He was still moving, still driving into you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and thrilling. But now there was something else in his gaze—something primal, something that told you he needed more. He needed to hear you beg for it, needed to hear the acknowledgement that he was the one making you come apart like this.

"Say it," he growled. "Tell me how much you need me to cum inside you."

You didn’t need to think, didn’t need to hesitate. The truth was there, pulsing through your body with every beat of your heart. "I need it, Spencer," you gasped out. "Please, cum inside me."

Spencer’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating with lust. His thumb worked your clit harder, his cock plunging into you with a new urgency that had your toes curling. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice low and gruff.

"I need you to cum deep inside me," you moaned, the words slipping out with ease. "Make me yours, Spencer."

With a feral snarl, he gave into the demand, slamming into you one last time, so deep it was as if he was trying to reach your soul. His cock pulsed, thick and hard, as he filled you with his hot cum, the sensation sending you spiralling over the edge once more. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him for every drop as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your shared orgasm.

Spencer stayed inside you for a moment longer, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of release. His breath was hot and uneven against your neck, his fingers gripping your waist as though letting go might break whatever fragile, beautiful thing had settled between you in the aftermath.

Your body was spent, trembling beneath him, every muscle wrung out and aching in a way that promised to linger. Your legs were still slack over his shoulders, your hips sore from being bent in half for so long. But none of it compared to the deep, satiated warmth flooding your body.

Spencer pressed his lips to your temple, a whisper of something sweet and unintelligible before he finally—reluctantly—pulled out of you. You winced at the loss, a small sound of discomfort slipping past your lips.

He caught it immediately. “Are you okay?” His voice was still thick and heavy with exhaustion, but the concern beneath it was unmistakable.

You nodded, but when you moved to shift your legs, a sharp twinge shot through your hips, making you suck in a breath. “Just sore,” you admitted, your voice raspy.

Spencer’s hands were on you in an instant, his touch impossibly gentle as he smoothed his palms over your thighs, easing them back down. His fingers traced light circles over your skin, coaxing the tension from your aching muscles.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips twitching slightly, though his voice remained tender. “I guess that’s what happens when you let me fold you in half.”

You huffed out a tired laugh, swatting weakly at his chest. He caught your hand before you could pull away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss to your palm before setting it back down.

Despite the teasing, his eyes stayed warm, scanning your face with quiet attentiveness. He could read you better than anyone, and right now, his expression told you he wasn’t going to let you brush off the soreness.

Without another word, he slid an arm beneath your shoulders and another under your knees. His movements were careful, deliberate, as he lifted you effortlessly, shifting you further up the bed so you weren’t half-hanging off anymore. He took his time settling you against the pillows, smoothing a hand down your side before pressing another soft kiss to your temple.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before slipping into the bathroom.

A moment later, the low rush of water filled the quiet.

You barely had time to miss him before he returned, his hands warm as they found your waist, coaxing you onto your stomach with gentle ease.

“A warm bath will help,” he told you, his voice soft, already kneading slow, careful circles into your hips. “The heat increases circulation. It’ll help relax your muscles and reduce soreness.”

You hummed in agreement, your body already melting beneath his touch as his thumbs pressed into the tender spots, working out the tension.

Spencer had always been meticulous in everything he did, and this was no exception. His fingers traced the path of each ache, pressing into the tight muscles with an almost surgical precision. He started at your hips, kneading slow and firm before moving down to your upper thighs, his palms smoothing over the lingering soreness from how tightly you had been held open for him.

Then, as if sensing the exact moment the bath had reached the perfect level, Spencer shifted, pressing one last kiss to your spine before slipping off the bed. A second later, the sound of running water ceased.

He returned just as quickly, his hands finding yours as he helped you sit up. The movement sent another twinge through your sore hips, but he was there, steadying you, keeping you upright with infinite patience.

"Think you can walk?" His voice was soft, but there was an undertone of quiet amusement, like he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I—"

The moment you shifted your weight, your legs wobbled, refusing to cooperate after everything they had been through. Spencer caught you instantly, his grip firm but gentle.

You sighed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. "Okay. Maybe not gracefully."

Spencer chuckled, tightening his hold around your waist. "I’ve got you," he murmured.

And he did.

With slow, careful steps, he guided you toward the bathroom, letting you lean into him as much as you needed. The warmth of the steam wrapped around you as soon as you stepped inside, the faint scent of soap lingering in the air.

The bath was full, the surface shimmering with a light layer of bubbles. The water looked inviting, and your sore muscles practically ached at the sight of it.

Spencer helped you ease down, his hands steadying you until you were fully settled in the warmth. The heat licked up your skin, the contrast making you shudder as the tension in your body slowly began to unwind.

Spencer lingered for a moment, watching you with something quiet and unreadable in his expression. Then, with a final brush of his fingers along your skin, he murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and stood.

You barely registered him leaving, too lost in the warmth of the water, the way it cradled your sore body. You let yourself sink deeper, the tension melting away with each passing second.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, eyes closed, mind drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. The water lapped gently at your skin, its warmth working into every sore muscle, and for a moment, you let yourself exist in it, weightless and pliant.

Then the sound of quiet footsteps pulled you back.

You blinked your eyes open just in time to see Spencer step back into the bathroom. Your gaze flickered over him, tracing the lines of his lean body, the familiar angles of his hips, the gentle curve of his stomach. He was already a little flushed from the heat of the steam, and when he caught your eyes on him, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Miss me?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it, something warm.

You hummed, tilting your head back against the edge of the tub. “Depends. What did you bring me?”

Instead of answering, he stepped into the bath behind you, lowering himself into the water with a quiet sigh. His legs bracketed yours, his chest pressing to your back as he pulled you effortlessly against him. The warmth of his body only added to the heat of the water, sinking into your skin, wrapping around you like something safe and steady.

“Does this count?” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

You exhaled, your body already melting into his. “It’s a good start.”

Spencer hummed in amusement, his arms looping around your waist, his fingers skimming lightly over your stomach. His touch was absentminded at first, just the slow, lazy drag of his fingertips over damp skin. But then his hands wandered lower, tracing over the sore muscles in your thighs, his touch becoming more deliberate.

“Hurts?” he asked, his voice low against your ear.

You nodded, sighing as he pressed his thumbs into the knots along the inside of your thighs. His touch was gentle but firm, working out the lingering ache with slow, methodical pressure.

“I was a little rough with you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You smiled, reaching down to place your hand over his. “I liked it.”

Spencer let out a soft breath—half a laugh, half something else entirely. His lips brushed the back of your ear, his nose nudging against damp skin as he murmured, “I noticed.”

Heat curled in your stomach, but it was different this time—softer, lazier. You were both too spent to turn this into anything more, too content to do anything but sit there, tangled together in the warmth.

For a while, you just existed like that, the quiet hum of the water surrounding you, Spencer’s hands smoothing over your skin, his breath a steady presence against your shoulder. It felt intimate in a way that went beyond the physical, something unspoken settling between you, something you weren’t quite ready to name.

Then Spencer shifted slightly, reaching for a washcloth.

He soaked it in the water before lathering it with soap, then smoothed it over your shoulder, working slowly, unhurriedly. He worked down your arms, to your wrists, then across your collarbone, taking his time as if there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. When he reached your thighs, he was just as careful, his hands skimming over the lingering soreness with a tenderness that sent warmth curling deep in your chest. And when his fingers slipped between your legs, it wasn’t sexual—it was soft, a quiet act of care that made your breath catch in an entirely different way.

Spencer pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay?"

You nodded, sinking deeper into him. “Yeah.”

Spencer pressed a kiss to your temple before setting the cloth aside. Then, finally, he reached for his own, making quick work of cleaning himself before shifting behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist again.

“We should get out before you fall asleep in here,” he murmured.

You made a small, sleepy sound of protest, earning another quiet chuckle from him.

Still, you let him help you sit forward.

Spencer stood first, stepping out and grabbing a towel before turning back to you. His hands were steady at your waist as he guided you up, wrapping the towel securely around you before grabbing another for himself.

He took his time drying you off, his movements careful and slow. There was something so grounding about it—the way he ran the soft fabric over your skin, the way he made sure you were completely warm before leading you back into the bedroom.

The warmth of the bedroom welcomed you as Spencer led you inside, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the freshly made bed. Your steps slowed slightly as you took in the small changes—clean sheets, fresh bottles of water waiting on the nightstand, the quiet thoughtfulness in every detail.

You hadn’t even noticed him doing all of this, yet somehow, he had.

A quiet sort of surprise settled in your chest, spreading through you in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the bath. Spencer didn’t say anything about it, didn’t draw attention to the care he had taken. He just guided you forward, steady as ever, as if making sure you were comfortable was second nature to him.

Wordlessly, he reached for one of the water bottles, twisting off the cap before pressing it into your hands. “Drink it slowly,” he murmured.

You nodded, lifting it to your lips and taking a few small sips before setting it aside. When you turned back to him, he was already moving toward the dresser, pulling out a soft tank top and a pair of underwear.

His gaze flicked to yours as he held them out. “Unless you’d rather sleep naked.”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Would that be a problem?”

Spencer’s lips twitched, but he only hummed in response, waiting patiently as you stepped into the clothes. His fingers brushed against your skin here and there, never lingering too long, just small, fleeting touches as he helped ease the fabric into place.

Spencer grabbed his discarded boxers from the floor, shaking them out before stepping back into them. Once they were settled low on his hips, he turned his attention back to you, his fingers brushing over your wrist in a silent check. His gaze traced over your face, searching for any lingering discomfort. Satisfied, he gave your hand a small squeeze before stepping over to the bed.

He pulled back the covers, motioning for you to slip in first before following after you. As soon as he was beneath the blankets, he reached for you instinctively, guiding you closer until your body was pressed to his. One arm curled around your waist, his fingers grazing over the hem of your tank top in absent patterns.

There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, lingering warmth between you, something deeper than exhaustion and far softer than lust.

Spencer’s fingers traced lazy patterns against your side, his touch featherlight, barely there. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the quiet hum of his breathing—it was everything, a rhythm you had never imagined would feel so natural.

You sighed, shifting just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft in the dim light, golden and half-lidded with exhaustion, but still watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. Like he was trying to memorize you, afraid to blink in case this moment somehow disappeared.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at your lips. "I can’t believe we’re here."

Spencer’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering over his face. "In bed? Or…?"

You huffed, swatting lightly at his chest, but this time, he didn’t catch your hand. He let you get away with it, probably because neither of you had the energy for anything more than this lazy teasing. Probably because it was different now, softer somehow, the sharp edges of whatever had existed between you dulled by something warmer, something neither of you had been ready to name before now.

"You know what I mean." Your voice was quiet, not accusing—just full of wonder, of something tender and deep-seated.

Spencer exhaled, his hand stilling on your waist. "Yeah," he murmured, voice low. "I know."

A silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full—full of everything that had led to this moment, full of every argument, every stubborn, exasperated glare, every sarcastic remark. Full of every moment you had spent challenging each other, pushing, pulling, refusing to give an inch—until one day, the fire had shifted from something destructive to something entirely different, something that burned just as intensely but no longer threatened to consume you whole.

Spencer’s fingers moved again, tracing slow, thoughtful circles into your side. "I used to think we’d end up tearing each other apart one day. Like two forces that couldn’t exist in the same space without colliding, without breaking something in the process."

You laughed, the sound muffled against his skin. "So did the team."

"Probably still do," he mused, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But I think we surprised them."

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "We surprised ourselves."

Spencer didn’t argue. He just looked at you, something unspoken shifting in his expression, something too vast to put into words. He swallowed, as if trying to find something to say, but for once, he had nothing. No facts, no statistics, no carefully crafted words—just you, just this.

You reached up, smoothing a hand over his cheek, feeling the faint roughness of stubble beneath your palm. "I’m glad," you whispered. "That we’re here. That it’s you."

Spencer’s fingers curled slightly, gripping you just a little tighter, as if to ground himself in the moment. His voice was quieter when he spoke. "Me too. More than you know."

You exhaled, letting your eyes flutter shut, the weight of sleep pulling at your limbs. But before you could drift off completely, you felt Spencer shift, pressing his lips to your forehead, soft and lingering. His breath was warm, his presence steady, unwavering.

"Get some sleep," he murmured against your skin. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because you were safe. Because you were where you belonged.

Because you were his, and he was yours.

And for the first time in a long, long time, everything felt exactly as it should be. No more resisting, no more second-guessing. For so long, friction had kept you apart, pushing and pulling, igniting sparks that threatened to burn everything down. But now, it was different. Now, it was warmth, steady and sure, something to lean into instead of fight against.

Everything else faded—the past, the doubts, the stubborn refusal to see what had always been there. All that remained was the warmth of him beside you, the steady cadence of his breath, and the quiet truth that you had finally stopped resisting what was meant to be.

Part One