#and that’s something I’ve never had before

[verstappenverse]

Not Over Yet

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: In the heat of a painful argument, you declare that your relationship with Max is over, leaving him desperate to hold on.

1.3k words / Masterlist

The deafening silence of the Monaco apartment was suffocating. The echoes of the fight still rang in the air long after the words had been spoken. Max sat on the edge of the couch, his fingers gripping the fabric so hard his knuckles were white. You stood across the room arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as if trying to hold everything together.

“We’re over, Max.” The words hung heavy in the room, each one feeling like a stone dropped into a deep well.

He looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “What?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

You turned away from him, unable to face the hurt in his eyes. The hurt that mirrored your own. “I said, we’re done. I can’t—” You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I can’t keep doing this.”

The argument had started hours ago—something small, something insignificant that had spiralled out of control like it always did these days. The never-ending travel, the constant pressure. You knew what you were signing up for when you fell for him, but lately, it felt like everything else in your life had taken a backseat. There were always missed dinners, cancelled plans, and nights where you felt like the third wheel to his love affair with the track.

Max’s eyes hardened for a moment, his pride kicking in as he stood up and paced the length of the living room. “You think I don’t give enough to this relationship?” He snapped, his voice rising. “I work my ass off every day, trying to make sure we have everything. I’m always thinking of you, even when I’m on the track. I—”

“It’s not about the money or the success, Max!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “It’s about us. About how I feel like I’m always second to everything else in your life. Like I’m not as important.”

Max stopped in his tracks, his back to you as he exhaled sharply. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm his emotions. “That’s not fair,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the tears threatening to spill over. “What’s not fair is me feeling alone when you’re standing right next to me.”

He turned to face you, the anger in his eyes replaced with something softer. But it was too late. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. The weight of your decision pressed down on your chest, and you took a deep breath before you spoke again.

“We’re over,” you whispered. The finality in your voice made it feel real. “We have to be.”

Max’s face went pale. He took a step toward you, but stopped himself his hands twitching at his sides. He looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time in weeks. “You…you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You choked on the words as soon as they left your lips. You didn’t mean it. Not really. But you couldn’t keep living in the shadows, couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest the fear of losing you clawing at his throat. He had faced impossible races, gut-wrenching crashes, the pressure of the world’s expectations—but nothing compared to the panic that gripped him now. The thought of losing you of truly being without you, was something he couldn’t handle.

He shook his head slowly, refusing to accept what you were saying. “No. No, we’re not over.”

You blinked back the tears, confused by the certainty in his voice. “Max, you can’t just—”

“I’m not letting you go,” he interrupted, his voice firm but low, almost pleading. “I know I’ve been…distracted. I know I haven’t been there the way I should. But you don’t get to decide we’re done. You can’t just give up on us. Not like this.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The apartment felt too small, too full of emotions that neither of you could control.

You felt your defences crumbling, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. But the hurt was still too raw. “It’s not that simple, Max.”

Max closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hands coming up to gently cup your face, forcing you to look at him. His touch was warm grounding you in a way only he could.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice softer now, desperate. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I love you. You. You’re not second to anything. You never were. I’m an idiot for making you feel that way, but please…please don’t give up on us.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to let the walls you had built around your heart crumble. But the fear was still there—the fear that things wouldn’t change, that this would be your life forever, always wondering if you were enough.

Max’s thumb gently brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. It was rare to see Max like this, so raw, so open.

You closed your eyes trying to steady your breathing, trying to find the words to say. “Max, I just… I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

He pulled you closer his forehead resting against yours as he took a deep, shaky breath. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything.”

His words were sincere, and you could feel the desperation in his voice. It wasn’t like Max to beg, to be so vulnerable, and it only made your resolve weaken further.

“I don’t want us to be over,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m always competing for your attention either.”

Max pulled back slightly, his hands still gently holding your face as he looked into your eyes. “You’re not competing. I love what I do, but I love you so much more. There’s no competition.”

It was the first time he had ever said it so clearly, so bluntly and it took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I forgot about what really matters. You. Us. I swear to you, I’ll do better. I’ll make time for us.”

His sincerity was undeniable, and for the first time in a long time you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could change. Maybe you could find a way to make it work.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I don’t want to lose you either Max.”

Relief washed over his face and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go. “You won’t. I promise you won’t.”

For a long moment you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms the weight of the fight slowly lifting as you both began to breathe a little easier. The future was still uncertain, and there would be more challenges ahead, but for now you were both willing to try.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the two of you were on the same team.

Max pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “We’re not over,” he said softly, as if he needed to hear it out loud.

You nodded, resting your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “We’re not over.”

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[rafecameroninterlude]

congrats on 5k you deserve it! can i request a 🍪 for bitchykook!reader w/ the song ‘agora hills’ by doja cat?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬

pairing: cocky!rafe x bitchy!kook!reader

summary: ❝kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off, i wanna show you off. i wanna brag about it.❞ — you and rafe make your relationship official by showing up to a party together.

warnings: excessive pda, suggestive language, making out, dry humping, drinking, i feel like voyeurism should be a warning because everyone is feeling things watching the two of you lolll, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: i’ve had this song stuck in my head foreverrrr!! thank you for this req <333 i could also imagine ‘agora hills’ playing while they’re making out with eachother lol. feel free to participate in this poll if you’d like 🤍

rafe knew he was the luckiest man on the island when you accepted his girlfriend proposal. you never gave anyone the time of day, always shutting down any advances guys tried to make on you. you were nearly impossible to obtain, but the kook king himself loved a challenge. rafe wasn’t the first persistent man to come your way, but he was the first, and only one, who was able to handle you and your personality. you were mean to him and instead of cowering away, he was mean back, prompting you to keep running your mouth so he could ‘use it for something worth losing your breath for.’

you pushed him, and he pushed harder. he wasn’t intimidated by you, and you loved it. while you two decided to keep your relationship under wraps, both of you came to the mutual decision to go public. especially since you and rafe still had people who expressed the utmost interest in both of you. ‘swear, i’m gonna knock his teeth in when i see him.’ rafe would be cursing under his breath every time you told him about a guy who tried hitting on you. ‘seems like it’s time to make our relationship known, don’t you think?’ you had agreed, already thinking about what outfit you should wear for the night.

a few hours later, and rafe was guiding you through the crowd at topper’s house, all eyes falling on you two. you could feel the glares from the girls who thought they had a chance with your boyfriend burning against your skin. you basked in the feeling of crushing their egos, your piercing eyes meeting theirs as rafe pulled you closer to him. he was so tall and so handsome, butterflies fluttered in your tummy at the sight of him. rafe took your hand, fixing himself behind you as you two approached his friends, presenting you like a gold medal as topper and kelce got all of their friends to cheer for you and rafe.

“that’s what the fuck i’m talking about, ‘cameron!” topper gave up his seat on the couch, motioning for you and rafe to sit down as he poured everyone a round of shots. rafe felt his chest bloom with pride when all of his friends ogled you as if they couldn’t believe you were really sitting here in his lap. “looks like you did the impossible.” kelce whispered in rafe’s ear while flashing you a smile. handing you a shot, all of rafe’s friends wished you two the best before all of you downed the burning liquor. soon, one shot turned into four, and before you knew it, you and rafe were very tipsy and handsy.

instead of being seated in his lap, you were now straddling him, your dress riding up your thighs as he basically sucked your face off. you couldn’t help but move your hips against his, his hands coming down to rest on the globes of your ass as you pressed kisses along his neckline. it wasn’t long before rafe’s friends, and practically the whole party knew the color of your underwear, a drunken ‘oops!’ leaving your lips when you turned around and saw everyone looking at you with dark eyes. while girls wanted to be you, the guys wished they were rafe who had a girl as beautiful as you grinding on their lap.

“they’re all looking at us..” you giggled against rafe’s lips. “i don’t care, let them watch,” he took his bottom lip between his teeth, “just wanna show you off.” rafe blinked slowly, bringing his mouth to your neck where he nipped softly at your flesh. you moaned, hands finding the erection in his pants. “fuck.” he hissed when you palmed his length, his cock twitching in his pants when he saw the way you were looking at him. “aye, ‘top,” rafe nudged his friend, “s’your room free?” topper glanced between the two of you, watching the way your fingers trailed underneath your boyfriend’s shirt.

“it’s all yours, bro.” he nodded upstairs. pausing their conversations, the group of guys watched as rafe helped you up from his lap. “there’s condoms in the bathroom.” topper cleared his throat, in which you turned to face him. “we don’t use those!” you waved him off with a giggle, a smug grin taking over rafe’s features. now everyone knew he was was fucking you raw every chance he got. placing his hand on the small of your back, rafe guided you upstairs, both of you still trying to makeout on the way up there. kelce cursed under his breath when rafe landed a harsh smack on your ass, a wicked smile gracing your lips.

“i just know those two have the craziest sex.”

[calisturniolo]

CLOTHING HAUL

summary. . . while you were away visiting family in florida chris sent you a video of him showing the clothes you had ordered.

pairing. . . chris sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings. . . cuteness

you had left chris two weeks ago to go visit your family in florida for a month, and before you left you made a clothing order and while you were on your trip chris sent you a video of him giving you a ‘haul’ of the clothes you bought.

you were laying in your bed, ready to put a show on and go to sleep when you felt your phone vibrate with a bunch of snapchat notifications. when you turned your screen around and saw chris’ name show up you were instantly confused, you and chris never used snapchat to communicate.

chris had sent you some kind of video, considering the amount of notifications you just got from him. he wasn’t one to spam so you were curious as to what he had sent you. pressing his name and opening up the messages, your screen was suddenly filled with the familiar sight of your handsome boyfriend holding up a big bag of the clothes you had ordered online before you left for florida.

a smile instantly came over your face as you realised what he was going to do. his voice began to fill your ears, pretending to be you.

he began speaking in a much higher pitched voice then usual, trying to act like you as he picked up the first piece of clothing from the bag. you couldn’t help but giggle, he was so cute no matter what he did.

“hey guys, today i’ve got a clothes haul. so let’s get started” he said, with a high pitched funny voice.

but as soon as he started talking again but his voice was normal but still pretending it was his haul.

he held up the first top he found in the bag, examining in his hands as he held it up close to the camera. “let’s start with...this adorable top...” he spoke, pretending to act as if it was his own order. but you knew chris well enough to know he knew nothing about girls clothes nor would he ever wear a top like that.

“the adorable top…that looks like it will be see through when i put it on my body — amazing, i love when that happens” he says sarcastically, holding up the strapless white tube top.

he grabbed another one out from the bag, he held it up in his hands with a confused look on his face, “and... what the fuck is this?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the camera with a cocky grin. he held up a black backless halter top, “and of course this is for when i’m going to an orgy” he jokes as he notices how revealing the top is.

he continued to look through the bag of clothes, each one getting more revealing than the last. he pulled out a black mini skirt, he held it up in front of his face, looking at it with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“and this little skirt is obviously for when i’m feeling frisky” he joked, slightly wiggling his eyebrows with a pout at the camera.

he delved back into the bag, pulling out the next item. he pulled out a packet of thongs, he looked at them with a cheeky smile forming on his face as he held them up for the camera, “and, of course, we can’t forget these. the fucking bit of string that goes up my ass, but at least they have little cute bows on the front.” he chuckled, shaking the packet in his hand.

the bag was beginning to become empty, only two items left. he pulled out a bikini, a thong bikini with a triangle top. he held up the tiny little dark blue bikini, looking at it with a mix of shock and awe, “wow, this is… something else.” he chuckled, holding it up next to his body to compare how small it was to him.

“chat should i model it for yall?” he says with a cheeky giggle, he looks down at the bikini before looking back up at the phone that was propped up videoing him. he smirked before pulling on the bottoms over his shorts, and attempts to put on the top, but gets confused when all the tying comes into play.

he struggled trying to figure out how to tie the top on, his hands getting tangled in the strings as he tried to figure it out. he grumbled under his breath as he struggled, mumbling curses and profanities as he tried to pull the string to tie in a bow around his chest.

“finally” he says as he got it tied, very messily, around his body. he struck a pose, mocking you, “hi my names y/n and this is my new bikini, what do you all think? do i look sexy?” he mocks your voice before breaking character and laughing.

“okay i gotta get this shit off, im embarrassing myself so bad right now” he laughed as he fumbled with the strings and sliding the bottoms off his body. he was about to throw them back in the bag before he saw he had slightly stretched the bikini, “oh shit…sorry baby, i’ll get you a new one.” he said before throwing the bikini in a bag.

he looked at the bag where he had just thrown the bikini, guilt suddenly washing over his face. he knew how excited you were to get that bikini, and he hated the thought of having ruined it for you.

“damn, i can’t believe i stretched it out. i’ll have to get you another one for when you get back.” he muttered to the camera, scratching the back of his neck embarrassedly.

“back to the haul” he says dismissing the bikini before reaching in and taking out the last item, a dress. he held the dress up and looking at it confused due to all the strings and whatnot, “all i see is black lace and a bunch of strings. i’m not even gonna pretend i know what this is supposed to look like but no doubt you’ll look amazing in it.” he smiles before placing all your items back in the bag with a smirk.

“and that concludes my haul, i hope you all loved it. comment and like for more.” he says mocking your voice again, before pressing the end button on the video and pressing send to you.

as you finished watching the video, your face broke out into a wide smile. chris was always so goofy and adorable, and the way he was trying to pretend to be you was just too much. you couldn’t help but giggle at how silly he looked trying to wear the bikini and not knowing what to do with the dress, once your giggles died down you typed out a reply to chris’ videos.

dude are you fr 😭😭😭😭???? i literally just got that and you already stretched it.

but i’ll let it slide since it made me laugh and you’re cute. also that was the best haul i’ve ever watched.

bro really said “for going to an orgy” sooooooo dramatic

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Can you pretty please write something like the Nanami college au again?? It was so funnn <33 love your work!

Shibari Master

Tags: dom!nanami x fem!reader, college au, nsfw, mdni, bdsm relationship, fluff, mutual pining, slight angst, happy ending don't worry.

Synopsis: Nanami is the stoic, silent, strong type. He excels in each class he’s put in. He’s never one to cause trouble, but… there have been whispers around the university. “I hear he likes to tie girls up for fun…” “My friend says he’s a freak in bed and left marks all over her.” “Someone told me he has ropes in his dorm.” It seems like Kento has a secret.

An: You guys really seem to love the college au Nanami 😭 I don’t mind. I actually really love writing him. This isn't necessarily a sequel or part two, but I hope this is something that you were hoping for. This is another long one. Strap in.

You were the type of person who really kept to themselves while in college. So many people told you that you would meet some lifelong friends and studying in university, but you didn’t really see the point. Everyone went their separate ways after college. There was no point in befriending anyone in there.

Well, Shoko’s the exception. She’s like a sickness that you just can’t fully get rid of. No matter how closed off you were, she just continued to tease and banter with you. You two often found yourselves sitting next to each other in class or in the dining hall.

Sure, you two had fun being absolute haters together. “Oh my god, yn. Look at what he’s wearing.” Shoko would whisper into your ear, referring to the guy in the hentai face hoodie that no man who gets pussy wears.

Shoko had friends. She was close with all sorts of people: the athletes, the quiet ones, anime nerds, trouble makers, everyone. She didn’t discriminate, which means she had a lot of gossip on everyone.

You were sat next to her in the dining hall as you leisurely munched on an apple. She was yapping about some people in drama club that got caught fucking in the auditorium, “a total orgy” was how she described it.

Your mind was elsewhere though. While you weren’t keen on making friends, you weren’t immune to crushes though. A man like Nanami was right up your alley. He was quiet, respectful, the hottest man you’ve ever seen and smart.

“Girl.” Shoko nudges your arm and furrows her eyebrows at you when you’re not giving her all your attention. “You are not ogling over Kento fucking Nanami right now, are you?” Goddamn her sense of social cues. You could get nothing over her.

“And if I am?” You ask, taking another bite from your apple before turning to face her with an almost challenging look.

“My little yn is finally coming out of her shell.” Shoko grinned up at you. She could never resist picking on you a little bit. “No, but seriously, I’ve heard some crazy things about him.”

“Like what?” You immediately ask with a puzzled expression. What kind of crazy things would Nanami get up to? He seems so strait laced. It’s hard to imagine him doing anything ‘crazy’.

“I heard he likes to tie up girls for fun.”

Oh shit.

Now, as a person who had unrestricted internet access as a kid and a recovering tumblr user, you knew what BDSM was. In fact, you were pretty well acquainted with the concept. Even as it was now more widely accepted after the movie Fifty Shades of Grey (which in your opinion, missed the mark on portraying a healthy BDSM relationship), BDSM still felt a little taboo. It was like a forbidden fruit to you, one that you thought about often.

“So? A man has a kink. Be so for real right now.” You respond as you glance back over at Nanami.

“No babes, it’s not just a kink. Like… I’ve heard that he didn’t touch them like that..”

“Oh…” You almost want to fucking pout upon hearing that.

“Oh yn, you freak.” Shoko laughs as she pokes your cheek. “You totally want him to tie you up.”

“I mean…” You give her a look which makes her laugh even harder.

“Stop.” She says while still laughing. “I heard it something called like shibari…”

*** *** ***

That night instead of researching for your upcoming term paper, you spent all night on the Shibari Reddit and reading up on different forums.

It was nearly three in the morning. Your fingers are scrolling on some sort of shibari blog, and you can’t help but feel almost jealous of these people. It was like an art and BDSM activity all in one. You wanted to do that.

You wanted Nanami to do that to you.

Your eyes are nearly half-lidded when you come across another blog. It was so late. You knew you should probably get some rest, but one more blog couldn’t hurt.

The knots were beautiful and intricate on the model’s skin. There was one photo where large veiny hands were cupping her cheeks as she was tied up. Damn. The master had nice hands.

You learned quickly that the ones who were being tied were called models, and the one who were doing the tying were called masters.

The next photo on the blog was even more erotic than the last. Another model tied up in pretty pink rope, and a tie was being held around her neck.

You’ve seen that tie before. It was unmistakable.

The only man who wears a yellow and black tie like that was Kento Nanami.

Heart pounding, you check the caption:

Knots done by KN

This was too much to be a coincidence, right?

You keep scrolling until you come across a text post instead of a picture.

Looking for models in the Kyoto area. College shibari master looking to teach.

Holy fuck. This had to be fate, right? You felt your stomach swirling with butterflies as you hovered over the message button. What are the odds that this isn’t Nanami?

Yn: Hi.. I saw where you were looking for models to teach.. I was wondering if I could get some info on that.. Sorry to bother you so late!!

Gods. You sounded like an absolute dork. You wanted to delete the message, but it was likely that the master already received it. What had you done?

*** *** ***

You could barely sleep last night, plagued with dreams of ropes and Nanami using his tie on your wrists or neck. You were lucky that you didn’t have a morning class today.

Drowsily sitting up, you reluctantly checked your phone. It was nearly noon since you had stayed up so late. Scrolling through your notifications, your heart nearly stopped when you saw a message from that blog last night.

KN: No need to apologize. Yes, I am looking to teach a new model. What kind of information would you like?

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.

Yn: Thanks for getting back to me!! I was kinda wondering if you charge anything for a session..?

KN: No, I don’t charge anything. I go through a pretty extensive recruiting process with my models though.

Yn: What might that include..?

KN: First, I like to get to know them on a deeper level than just first name basis. I want to know what kind of understanding they have about shibari.

KN: Then, I request that the model provides me with some kind of proof that they’re in the right medical condition for shibari. It is a demanding art that does include some physical aspects. I want to know what your body can handle.

KN: After that, I try out practice knots on the model, making sure they’re absolutely comfortable every step of the way. I think of this as a trial run.

KN: Granted all goes well, I then draft up a beneficial agreement between the both of us.

Oh. This was so much more than you could’ve bargained for. You didn’t even expect for him to respond back, but he was talking about an agreement??

If this was Nanami, then you could feel yourself falling even more hopelessly for him. If this wasn’t Nanami, you were definitely reluctant to move forward.

Yn: An agreement..?

KN: Don’t let that word discourage you. I’m a man of rules and principles, that’s all. We’ll talk more if we get there.

If.

That word felt like a bee sting right in the gut. As delusional as it may sound, it felt like he was already discounting you without completely being rude.

You didn’t even know what you were thinking when you messaged this person on the internet. You weren’t even sure it was Nanami. The idea of shibari was appealing, tempting even, but you really didn’t want to just experience it with any type of person.

A message on your phone grabs your attention.

KN: May I take you out to coffee sometime, yn?

This was probably wrong, but it felt right. Something was pulling you to keep texting him.

Yn: I don’t normally meet strangers from the internet so quickly.

KN: Oh? We’re strangers? I would’ve at least considered us to be acquaintances.

Your eyes widen as you stare down at your phone. This might actually be Kento Nanami messaging you, and he offered to take you out to coffee. You were now aware of how hard your heart was pounding in your chest.

Yn: Is this Kento Nanami..?

KN: It is. Was it not obvious?

Yn: It definitely was. I think I was just nervous and didn’t want to get my hopes up.

KN: Get your hopes up? You were hoping for it to be me?

Yn: Is it weird if I was..?

KN: I would consider it to be cute rather than weird.

KN: About that coffee..?

*** *** ***

A pile of discarded clothes lay on your bed as you were trying on another outfit while Shoko watched you. You had hated everything you have tried on so far.

“What’s so great about Nanami anyways?” Shoko asks as she opens up your window and lights up a cigarette. You’ve begged her to stop smoking, but she adamantly refuses, stating “at least I’ll die happy”.

“He’s just… kind of mysterious, is he not?” You ask as you’re looking at yourself in a full length mirror. You were to meet him in about thirty minutes at a local coffee shop near the campus.

Your body is being hugged by mocha brown shirt and a brown plaid pleated skirt.

“Jesus, yn. Is he getting to know you or your ass?” Shoko jokes as she grins up at you with her cigarette tucked between her lips.

“Both if I’m lucky.” You wink at your friend who rolls her eyes playfully at you.

“And you’re one hundred percent sure you’re not into girls? What does Nanami have that I don’t?” Shoko’s no stranger to flirting with you. It was just her personality type. Though, if you were into girls, Shoko would definitely be your type.

“I’m sorry. When did you grow a dick?”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t suck my strap?” She playfully pouts and gives you a look that almost makes your heart skip a beat.

“For you, Sho? I just might.” You continue to banter with her as you grab your purse.

“You better go before I steal Nanami’s woman.” She looks away from you as she snuffs her cigarette against the outside brick.

“I’m not his woman.” You retort as you head towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, I better be your maid of honor. I wanna wear a tux though.”

You laugh at your friend’s boldness and decide to hurry down to the coffee shop, not wanting to keep Nanami waiting. He seems like the type of guy to value punctuality.

As you arrive to the local shop, you marvel at how nice the shop looks. The walls are painted with a soft eggshell white, and it has accents of dark oak wood and black decorations. It’s decorated high and low with botanical plants

Nanami was sitting in the corner of the shop in a more private area of the shop. He seemed to already be sipping on a coffee of sorts. You feel your heart start to pound at the sight of him. He was wearing a black button-up shirt that hugged his muscular arms so deliciously thanks to his harness that he was also wearing. His beige slacks also fit his frame nicely. You might dare say, Nanami has a nice ass.

His hazel eyes lifted up from a book he was reading, and his lips so subtly quirked up into a smile as soon as he caught a glance of you. He stood up from his seat and pulled your chair out for you like the gentleman he was.

“You look lovely.” His deep voice made your head spin for a moment. Sure, you had heard him during class, but he sounded much more relaxed and less robotic.

“As do you.” You respond before realizing your blunder. “I mean, you look handsome-“ The words quickly fall from your mouth.

“Oh? I'm not lovely?" He asks, an edge a playfulness in his tone. You didn't know he had the capabilities for that.

"I- No- I meant. You are?"

"Relax. I don't bite." He takes a small sip from his coffee before lazily looking back up at you. "Unless you ask me to."

Heat floods your face, and you immediately cross your legs together, trying not to show your obvious likeness to that idea. "Good to know." You finally manage to say after a moment.

He gives you a kind, warm smile in response. "Do you want to order a coffee? Then, we can get to know each other more?" He asks in a reassuring tone. His presence is nerve racking, but he also provides almost a sense of comfort. He has things under control, and you just have to follow along.

"Sure." You agree, and he walks with you up to the counter to order a drink.

"Can I get a vanilla latte please?" You ask, and the barista types in your order before rambling off your total. You reach into your purse to retrieve your credit card, but Nanami subtly nudges you while handing the barista his card.

"I could've gotten that..." You quietly state, feeling guilty that he paid for you. Nanami shakes his head with a small scoff of amusement.

"I invited you out, yn. I wouldn't expect for someone to pay for something that I invited them out to." Nanami assures you before the barista hands you your latte. You make the mental note to get him back at a later date.

The both of you settle back in at your table.

"So, how did you find my blog?" He asks with a small, curious smile on his face.

"Well..." You start off, but your voice trails off. Not fancying the idea of telling him that you and Shoko had gossiped about him, you decide to bend the truth just a bit. "I've always been intrigued by the idea of BDSM, and I just kinda fell down a rabbit hole of shibari, which led me to your page."

"Oh really? What intrigued you the most about BDSM?" He cocks an eyebrow up at you, his smile never fading.

"Trust, mostly." You respond sheepishly.

Nanami couldn't have came up with a better answer himself. He shifted his position a bit, and he leaned into the table ever so slightly. "Trust... Is that what excites you?"

You feel your heart flutter in your chest as you gaze into his hazel eyes. "Yeah... being able to follow in someone's lead because I trust they're sense of judgment. That's what excites me."

"A woman after my own heart." He jokes kindly as he leans back into his seat. "So, no experiences with BDSM or shibari though? Just intrigue?"

"Yeah... just intrigue." You agree as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What all do you know about shibari?"

"Hm, I know the roles of master and model... I know there are different color ropes. It seems like a very emotional act..." He nods at what you're saying.

"It can be very emotional for both the model and the master. It's a huge test of vulnerability, trust, submission, and leadership. You know, Yn, if I ever have the honor of tying you, I will be holding your life in my hands."

You feel the heat rush to your face and between your legs from his words. There was something about giving him that level of control over you that drove you mad on the inside. You almost wanted to tell him that you wanted to skip to the trial run, but you knew that his process was what was best.

"I.. I know that... The honor...?" You softly question, causing for him to gently laugh.

"Yes, the honor. Never ever let a dom or master make you feel like your submission is anything less than a privilege. You don't owe me or anyone any part of you."

Jesus Christ. How was this man even real?

"Uh.. Noted... So, how did you find shibari..?" You hate how spacey you get when you're feeling nervous, but you don't want to fuck up and say the wrong thing.

"I always took pride in photography, so when I found photos of shibari, I knew that was something I wanted to capture. The leadership role was not always something I've been good at." He explains as he gaze drifts down towards his coffee. You're silently grateful that the coffee shop isn't too busy. They're also playing soft lo-fi tunes that drown out yours and Nanami's conversation.

"How long have you been a master?" You curiously ask, feeling a small pit in your stomach as you remember he has had other models.

"Well, I've been tying knots on people since I turned eighteen, but I'd say I really became a master at it when I turned twenty-one. That's also when I really started to take it more seriously. I use to just tie up whoever volunteered just so I could learn the knots on an actual human body. That got me into some shitty situations, so once I gained enough experience, I decided to do this little recruitment process."

"Is this just a hobby or..?"

"I see it as a lifestyle, one that I don't bother hiding."

"Then, what are you in Uni for?" You ask as you tilt your head to the side a bit, feeling confused as to why he was in college if he seemed to only have a passion in something he was already a master at.

He gives you another amused laugh. "Business." He replies.

"Why would you be in the business major?"

"I run my own business, darling. The pictures of shibari I take aren't free, with the exception of the ones I post to my blog to market it. I also photograph other things as well."

"Ohh..." You drawl as you feel a bit embarrassed for not considering that aspect. "So... how many models do you have...?" You reluctantly ask, unable to squash the growing pit in your stomach.

A small smile curls on Nanami's face as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. He seems to completely think through his response before he opens his mouth.

"I wouldn't necessarily say I have any models of my own." He answers, but that really only fills you with more questions instead of reassurance.

"So... that means...?" You ask, not daring to look up from your coffee mug. It was foolish to want a sense of monogamy from him at this early of a stage. You knew it was, but you still couldn't get behind the idea of him having multiple models.

"It means that..." The door to the cafe jingles, and Nanami's face immediately shifts to a more serious one. It's an expression that you're use to because it's the one he uses around campus. He looks unamused and almost annoyed.

"Nanamiiin!!!" A white-haired male drawled as he approached your table. You recognized him as another student from uni.

"Gojo." Kento greets in a flat tone as he eyes the male. Gojo seems to not take any offense to Nanami's tone, and he plops down on the bench seat right next to him.

"Are you on a date, Nanami?" Gojo teases as he eyes you then looks back at the blonde with a grin.

"What are you doing here, Gojo? You don't even like coffee." He says, completely ignoring the other's question.

"This cafe has a really good hot chocolate, you know. Also, am I not allowed to run into my best friend while he's in public with a pretty girl?" Gojo cuts his bright blue eyes towards you, beckoning for you to speak up.

"Oh, are you two friends?" You ask, unable to bear Gojo's omniscient stare.

"The closest." Gojo replies before draping his arm around Nanami's shoulder. Your date rolls his eyes and shrugs Gojo's arm off of him.

"Too close in my opinion." Nanami grumbles lowly.

"So cruel, Nanamin." Gojo pouts over at his friend who doesn't budge in the slightest. "Are you at least going to introduce me to your date?"

"No, leave."

"Nanamiiiin~!"

"My name's Yn." You interject their little spat as you hold out your hand towards Gojo's.

"Yn, what a pretty name for an even prettier girl." He says as he takes your hand and brings your palm up to his lips.

Before either of you could react, a strong hand grabs onto Gojo's wrist, preventing him from kissing your hand. "If you intend on keeping your hand and your dignity, I'd leave now."

Your eyes slightly widen as you watch the covert struggle between the two men. You can’t help but be hyper aware of your heart pounding in your chest. Was he being territorial… over you?

Satrou looks back over at Nanami with a smug grin before he releases your hand. He then drags Nanami’s hand up to his mouth and presses a small, polite kiss to his hand as if to piss the blonde off more. “You should bring her to the pool party next weekend, Nanamin.” He suggests with a grin.

Satoru then stands from his seat. “It was nice meeting you, yn. I hope to see you again soon.” He then promptly leaves the cafe - without even buying a hot chocolate.

Nanami takes a few moments to repress his anger back down. He takes a deep breath before speaking up. “I’m so sorry about him. He doesn’t understand boundaries at all. He didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, did he?”

“No, no, it’s alright! I’m okay.” You assure him with a reassuring smile.

He nods and returns a relieved smile before checking his watch and softly sighing. “I have to go… I would like to see you again.”

You can’t help the smile that creeps up on your face as you nod your head. “I’d like that too..”

“Do you have a free day before next weekend?” He asks before drinking the rest of his coffee. You had only just now noticed that he was drinking straight black coffee.

“Oh, uh, Wednesday afternoons are free.” You respond, feeling a flutter in your chest from the promise of seeing him again.

“Wednesday afternoon it is. How do you feel about coming to my dorm?”

His dorm? The one that’s rumored that he keeps ropes in? You can already feel your excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Your.. uh.. roommate will be there?” You ask, silently kicking yourself for how you stumbled over your words.

“Hm? No, no, I don’t have a roommate.” He assures with a small smile. “I paid the extra money. Considered it to be an investment towards my lifestyle since practicing shibari would be hard to do with a roommate.”

The new information only makes you feel more nervous and excited. For one, it was an extra thousand dollars to be roomed alone. That was no small “investment”. For two, this meant you were going to be alone with him in his room - with ropes.

“Oh.. uh, yeah, I’m okay with that.” You finally respond after a moment.

“Perfect.” He stands from his seat and looks down at you again. You have to crane your neck upward to look at his face. It’s your first time seeing him up close like this. He was tall, and his muscles and veins made you want to salivate all over the table. “See you then.” He mumbles before affectionately patting your head and leaving the cafe.

*** *** ***

The wait until Wednesday dragged on and on. You were so antsy to finally see Nanami again. You had filled your time gushing to a very skeptical Shoko and stalking his blog. He hadn’t posted anything new yet, which you decided to be a good thing. Maybe he didn’t really have any other models?

You politely knocked on his dorm door, triple checking that you went to the right one. He had texted you which one was his this morning.

The door open a moment later, and you were greeted to the sight of a cozy looking Nanami. He wasn’t in his normal attire - just a t-shirt that fit him way too tightly and a pair of grey sweatpants. Slut.

“Hi.” You greeted awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“Hello.” He let out a puff of air in amusement to your candidness. “Come in.” He says as he moves out of your way. “Make yourself at home, please. I figured we could watch a movie today unless you wanted to do something else.”

Yeah, Nanami - do you. You silently thought to yourself.

“A movie sounds good.” You casually reply as you stroll into his dorm room. It was the average size of a dorm room, but since he didn’t have a roommate, it felt a lot larger. He had a couch where the other bed would go.

Taking in more detail, it was incredibly clean yet cozy. Your eyes drifted around his plain looking room. You don’t really know what you expected, but you assumed there would be some sort of hint to shibari.

That’s when your eyes find a coat hanger, but it wasn’t hanging up coats. Bundles of differently colored ropes hung from the hooks. He had every color of the rainbow and even some multi-colored ropes as well.

Biting your lip slightly, you wondered how the ropes would feel against your skin - if they’d be soft or rough. Would he be gentle or rough?

“I see you found my collection.” His voice slightly startles you, causing for you to flinch. A small chuckle of amusement escapes him from your skittish behavior.

“Oh- uh, yeah, sorry..” You apologize, not wanting for him to think you’re weird.

“Don’t be. I assumed you’d be curious. Want to touch one?” He offers as his hand slowly finds the small of your back, and he casually guides you over to the coat hanger in the corner of the room.

“I’m allowed?” You sheepishly ask.

“I wouldn’t have offered if you weren’t.” He calmly laughs as his hand grazes across a white rope. “This is called jute rope. It’s made for comfort and aesthetics.”

You nod your head and carefully reach out to brush your hand against the rope as if it was made of glass. The rope really was silky smooth. You almost wish your clothes were made out of the same material.

“I didn’t expect it to be so soft.” You muse quietly, allowing your hand to continue petting the rope.

“It’s made with comfort of models in mind. It won’t leave any rope burns or anything like that on their skin.” He explains, and his hand moves to a different rope. “This one on the other hand is hemp rope. It’s rougher, so it can sit more snugly against the skin. It’s great for tight knots and suspension.”

You follow his lead, carefully touching the next black hemp rope. It was rougher than the jute rope. “Suspension?” You quietly ask.

“That’s for experienced models and masters. It’s a whole different breed of shibari - one that requires a huge foundation of trust and understanding of each other’s bodies.” Nanami explains as he watches your facial expressions.

“Oh.. have you ever suspended someone before..?” You can’t help your curiosity when it comes to his experience level.

“Once, but it was sheerly for practice.” He calmly answers before moving his hand over to the soft pink rope next to it. You immediately recognize that rope from the pictures on his blog. “This one is made of cotton. It’s extremely soft and lightweight, great for beginners models.”

You reluctantly reach out and barely touch the pink one. It was incredibly soft, but you can’t help but think about the lucky girl posing in his pictures and how pretty she looked in his hands.

“You recognize this one, don’t you?” He asks, immediately noticing your withdrawal.

“Yeah.” You respond as you look away from him and the ropes. You knew you were being dramatic, but some part of you couldn’t help it.

It’s obvious to you that the girls he’s tied up in the past spread those rumors about him, telling everyone what he likes to do in his free time. You painted a narrative in your head that all the other girls he’s tied up in the past aren’t really into shibari. They probably just wanted to get in his pants. Okay, maybe that was an unfair assumption.

“Hey.” Nanami speaks up, and his hand gently cups your cheek, making you look up at him. “We can pick out your own rope, okay? I want you to be comfortable, and if using ropes that have been on other models makes you uncomfortable, I’ll buy a whole set just for you.”

It’s a heartfelt gesture - proving that he has your best interest in mind. It didn’t completely put an end to your bitter jealousy, but it helped.

“I don’t want you to spend that kind of money just because of my downfall.”

"Downfall-? No, darling, it's not a downfall, and please, there is nothing else in the world I'd rather buy than new shibari ropes. As soon as you can provide a doctor's note to me, I'd love to take you and pick out ropes for you together." Nanami's hand stays firm on your cheek, not allowing for you to look away from him. His voice sounds raw - he's being serious.

Something about him planning for the future makes you relax a bit. He's planning this stuff already as if you're spot in his lifestyle is already guaranteed.

Swallowing harshly, you slowly nod your head. "If it's something you'd like to do as well, I think it would help me feel a bit more comfortable."

"It is. I want this to be as fun for you as it will be for me." His voice drops an octave lower as his eyes rest upon you, practically drinking in the sight of you. Slowly dipping his head towards your ear and neck, he whispers, "You're going to look so pretty tied up. I'm excited to see what color you'll pick."

Oh.

You immediately press your thighs together, trying to subtly hide your arousal from his words. Gods, you were so easy. He didn't even have to do much to get you all worked up.

The two of you lounge on his couch, watching a movie that he has playing on his laptop. He has his arm comfortably placed around the back of the couch. Since you were watching on a laptop, you had to sit rather close to him.

The lingering scent of his cologne in the air made you feel feral, and you could feel his body heat radiating from his body. The movie was just a blur at this point as you were silently wishing he'd just wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you closer.

You sneakily catch a glimpse of his face, and you notice his eyes are closed. His breathing is even and deep. He fell asleep next to you.

What an absolute cutie.

Carefully, you reach out to the coffee table and pause the movie. With no more background noise, you can hear the soft and subtle snores escaping from his mouth.

Deciding that it would be too weird for you to stay in his space while he's unconscious, you carefully try to stand. but two strong arms loop around your waist and pull you back down - right into his lap.

"Stay." He murmurs quietly. His voice was still breathy from sleep. "Please?"

You gaze up at him, and his eyes were still closed. He had his face nuzzled into your hair while holding onto you like you were a damn teddy bear. Refusal wasn't an option. Even in his sleep, Nanami was stronger than you.

"I'll stay." You whisper back to him, knowing good and well that he was fast asleep. Getting cozy in his lap, you allowed your eyes to slip close as well.

*** *** ***

He apologized profusely to you for falling asleep once you two woke up from your cozy nap. You reassured him that it was okay. You were grateful that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep next to you, and it seemed like you both needed that nap.

In order to make it up to you, Nanami invited you to that pool party that Satoru mentioned at the cafe. If you had the guts to meet Satoru and still stick around, you may as well meet the rest of his friends.

Now it's Friday, the day before the pool party. You hadn't really heard from Nanami since he invited you, but he was active on his blog. That sick feeling clouded in your stomach upon seeing another model tied up in the white rope you were just touching on Wednesday.

Jealousy's a bitch.

Deciding that you really couldn't be upset, you weren't even technically one of his models. It was also very possible that Nanami was posting older pictures that he had taken before you had even messaged him.

You couldn't stand to sit on the sidelines for much longer. If you wanted to become one of his models, you needed to go down to the clinic and get a physical to prove to Nanami that you were in good health.

Surprisingly, it was easy to lie to the nurse and say that you need a physical to join the volleyball team. She didn't suspect a thing as she had you sit down on one of the cots and fill out a clipboard.

Since this was a university clinic, privacy was not it's strong suit. You could clearly see anyone who walked in through the doors, just as they could see you.

Answering all of the questions on the clipboard with 'no', you perk your head up as your hear voices speaking to the nurse.

Your heart fell into your stomach immediately as you take in the sight of Nanami guiding a girl into the clinic. What were the odds?

Feeling your heart pounding in your chest, you try to calm yourself. This could be just a funny coincidence.

"What seems to be going on today?" The nurse asks while looking between the girl and Nanami.

"She just needs to be checked out is all." Nanami's calm voice felt like a bullet. He was here, helping another girl get a physical, so she could be a model too.

All while he had been practically radio silent to you for the past couple of days.

Glancing over, his eyes caught yours. A smile immediately curled on his lips until he saw you crumpling up your paper from your clipboard.

"Nevermind. I'm good." You tell the nurse and Nanami as you chunk the piece of paper into the trash.

"Hey wait- yn-" Nanami tries as he tries to reach out to you, but you were already gone.

It's funny how he was suddenly flooding your phone.

KN: Yn, please, allow me to explain.

KN: I know you're upset with me. Let's just talk this out.

KN: Tell me what to do to make it better.

KN: Yn, please.

KN: Please. I'm sorry. It wasn't how it appeared.

The messages went on for the rest of the day. You ignored each one of them. You had placed him on some fucking pedestal just because he seemed quiet and 'not like other guys'. BLEH. He was exactly like other guys. He could just tie boy scout knots and say pretty assuring words. This is exactly the reason why you didn't care to make friends. Something will always come around and burst your bubble.

You finally gained enough courage to tell Shoko what happened the next day. She promptly came over to try to console you.

"Baby, he could've actually had an explanation." She oddly advocates for Nanami, even though you distinctly remember her asking what was so good about him when you first brought him up.

"No, he just wanted a way in, so he could lie and make me feel better." You say, telling yourself that fact as much as you were telling her.

"Are you still going to go to that pool party? I'll be there." She says as she rubs your hair gently, allowing the strands to flow through her fingers. "You can at least show him what he's missing."

The thought of going out anywhere sounded like torture and seeing him sounded even worse, but the thought of getting your mind off him did sound appealing. Plus, you did have a really cute bathing suit...

"You'll be there..?" You ask timidly.

"Of course." She assures you with a smile.

*** *** ***

Walking into the huge frat house, your arm is linked with Shoko's. She was wearing a pretty black one-piece bathing suit that she's wearing a black lace shawl to cover her body.

You were wearing a lilac bikini with a bathing skirt that tied around your hips.

It was dark out, but the back patio of the house was lit up by a cozy fire and string lights that wrapped around in trees and around the patio area. The massive underground pool was also lit up by pool lights that were underwater.

It wasn't necessarily crowded per say since it was so massive, but there were probably twenty or so people hanging around the pool and outdoor bar.

"Shokoooo!" A familiar white-haired guy shouted from inside the pool. The he was leaned back, so the water lapped at his chest and abs. He raised up a beer. "aaanndd... Nanami's girl. You made it."

Your face involuntarily grimaced from being referred to as 'Nanami's girl'. Had you not seen pictures of his new models and him taking that girl to get a physical, you probably would've blushed from the nickname.

"She's my girl tonight. Thank you." Shoko bantered with a small grin, and she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Speaking of Nanami, you didn't see him anywhere. Did he decide not to come?

A tall brunette male with long hair and gauges stood beside Gojo in the pool, and he leaned over to whisper in his ear. Satoru's face shifted, and he nodded. "That's right." He said a bit too loudly before the brunette shushed him.

"Come on. Let's get in." Shoko urges you as she slips off her shawl and gets an over exaggerated whistle from Satoru. You then hear a "ow!". It was clear the brunette had elbowed him.

You really don't feel ready to be alone, so you follow her lead and slip the sheer lilac skirt that covered your hips, and you throw it on one of the nearby patio chairs.

Stepping into the water, it becomes clear to you that the pool is heated.

"How does the school even afford this?" You quietly mutter.

"The school?" The brunette laughs. "The school didn't afford this."

"This isn't a frat house..?" You quietly ask as you step deeper and deeper into the water.

"The Gojo-frat house." Satoru replies with a cheeky grin.

"It's called daddy's money." The brunette adds with his own grin.

"It's called Gojo money, Suguru." The white-haired male jabs the other in the side.

The patio door slides open behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see Nanami walking out with another tall brunette male, but this one had shorter hair. He also had tired eyes and a stoic face.

Your heart aches a bit as you share a glance with Nanami. He was wearing swimming trunks and a grey t-shirt that covered his chest. He looked at you with a hopeful glance, as he obviously looked like he wanted to say something.

"Hiromi, haven't seen you here in a while." Suguru comments as he takes a drink from a red solo cup.

"Yeah, law school is pretty unforgiving. I don't recommend." Hiromi says with a small smile as he sits down on the concrete next to the pool. He allows his legs to dangle inside the pool next to you. "I'm sorry. I don't recognize you from around." He says as his gaze falls upon you.

"Oh, uhm, I'm Yn. I don't normally come to these things." You awkwardly greet yourself as you look up at him. Maybe he'd be a good distraction.

"I'm Hiromi Higuruma. It's nice to meet you." He smiles as he sticks out his hand. You graciously take it, and he gives your hand a small squeeze.

Your eyes meet and for a moment. You're almost able to forget about Nanami. That is, until you see the blonde strip off his shirt out of your peripheral vision. You give him the satisfaction of glancing over at him.

Fuck him and his entirely too nice body.

He looked like an Olympian. His shoulders were nice and broad. His chest and abs were perfectly defined too. He slimmed up a bit towards the waist area, and his swim trunks were ever so slightly giving you a peek at his v-line.

"Show off." Hiromi laughs as Nanami sits on the other end of the pool. He then props his hands up on the concrete and allows his entire body to slip into the water.

You're almost completely mesmerized by him, until Hiromi speaks up.

"So, you don't come around these things too much?" He asks as he looks down at you while your lower half is submerged in water.

"No, I don't. I don't really enjoy the party scene." You reply sheepishly as you look back up at Hiromi.

"Me neither." He laughs leaning down towards you slightly. "I don't know why they continue to invite me to these things."

You share a small laugh with him, but a cold chill makes your body shiver. You can feel a pair of eyes boring holes into you. Risking a glance over in Nanami's direction, you see him staring straight into Higuruma's very soul.

Was he actually jealous?

"Do you want a tour?" Hiromi asks as he seems to not even notice Nanami's death glare.

"Uhhh..." You drawl as you glance back over at Shoko. She was currently chatting up a pretty girl at the other end of the pool. A small exhale of amusement leaves your nose. So much for being her girl tonight. "Sure. I'd like that." You respond to Hiromi. He carefully takes your hand and helps you out of the pool.

You two explore the massive frat house, and Hiromi tells you that he use to go to your school and live in the frat house with Satoru, Suguru, and a few other names you don't recognize. However, he left once he was accepted into law school.

"You know... no one would notice if we were gone for just a little while." Hiromi murmurs into your ear as he crowds you against a wall. "I could show you my old bedroom. I doubt Gojo had the decency to even fix it up after I left."

"Oh, I..."

"Hiromi." A deep voice calls from the other side of the hallway, startling you from responding. You glance over and see Nanami with a towel thrown over his bare shoulder.

"Kento." Hiromi responds with a half-smirk. "Have you met Yn?"

"Very much so. Satoru's calling for you outside." Nanami responds flatly as he stares Hiromi down. "I think it'd be wise of you to go see what he wants."

Hiromi lets out a slight sigh, and he moves back away from you and the wall. "Fine." He responds before brushing his hand against your cheek and walking away.

Left alone with Nanami, you have no where to go and hide. You can't avoid his questions anymore.

Stalking forward slowly, you feel your heart start to race with each step.

"You've been ignoring my texts..."

"I have." You respond dryly as you keep your eyes away from him.

The sound of his footsteps hitting the ground draw closer.

"That girl at the clinic wasn't my model. I don't have any models." His voice was lower than normal, hanging onto each word.

"The pictures on the blog? You going silent for a while?" You ask as you take a step back from him.

"I run a business of selling pictures of models practicing shibari as pieces of artwork. It's all completely consensual, usually girls come to me looking to make some money since I give them forty-five percent of all the money earned from the pictures. They're not my models though. I rarely ever see the same girls twice considering the amount of money I pay them." He explains as his footsteps gradually grow closer.

You take another step back, trying to comprehend what he was saying, and your back presses against the wall. Dead end.

"The girl at the clinic?"

"She passed out in front of me completely by sheer coincidence. I was just doing her a favor and not leaving her unconscious in the middle of a college campus."

He takes another step towards you until you can feel his body heat radiating from him. You're eye-level with his pectoral muscles as you can't bring yourself to look him in the eye right now.

"Yn." He says your name in such a demanding tone. You slowly drag your eyes upward and give him a guilty look. Your jealousy had gotten the better of you, and it almost cost you Nanami. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as he carefully reaches up and cups your cheek. "I've wanted it to be you ever since I first saw you around campus."

"Wanted what to be me..?" You softly whisper as his giant hand encompasses your cheek and jaw. His thumb drags gentle circles on your skin, massaging your face.

"My model. My muse. Please, forgive me for not being immediately forthcoming as to what I do for a living. I'll stop it immediately if you ask me too. I'll do whatever you want.. just please.."

Your hands reach up and gather his jaw before you can even think twice, and you pull him downward to you. He immediately gets the memo and dips his head down, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

You respond immediately with a small whimper as he presses your back against the wall. The sounds of lips smacking together filled the hallway completely as Nanami drinks down every little noise you make.

His hands are gently groping at your thighs, massaging the soft, pillowy flesh beneath his fingers, and he lets out a quiet groan. Your hands trail upwards to his blonde hair, and your rake your fingers through his undercut.

Your bodies are pressed together, barely hidden by the fabric that was your bathing suits. Nanami trails his kisses down your jaw and neck, gently sucking and nipping at the skin. His hands firmly hold onto your thighs, and he lifts your feet off the ground, holding you up against the wall.

“I can’t get enough of you.” His voice mumbles between kisses.

“Nanami…” You softly gasp as he sucks a love bite into the crook of your neck.

“I thought I was going to kill him.” He goes on as he gently bites and kisses down your shoulder. You immediately know he’s talking about Hiromi.

“I couldn’t stand the way he looked at you.” Another bite. “I want to be the only one who looks at you like that.” Bite.

You’re pitifully trying to grind your hips up against Nanami’s growing bulge, desperate for friction. “Say you’re mine, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You feel your heart flutter at his offer. Nanami’s dirty secret wasn’t that he’s a shibari master. He would tell that to anyone proudly. His dirty secret is he’s as jealous and territorial as you.

“I’m yours.” Your voice is breathy as you lean your head back against the wall. “I’m yours. Please, Nanami.”

Oh, that whiny tone will be the death of him.

“That’s what I thought.” He lowly rumbled into your ear before he started to move his hips, practically dry humping you in the hallway. Anyone could walk in and see you two.

You were too enthralled by the feeling of his tip bumping and rubbing against your core. You could feel every outline thanks to both of you being in swimwear.

“Fuck.” He quietly growls as his hands start to move your body as well, practically using you as a toy for pleasure.

He leans over towards your shoulder, and he catches the tie of your bikini string between his teeth. All while he’s grinding against you, he unties one of your bikini strings using only his teeth.

The wet fabric immediately slides down, allowing him a peak at your breasts. He lifts you up a bit higher so he can kiss around your chest. Unfortunately for him, your top is still blocking what he’s aiming for.

“Take it off.” He demanded lowly, getting impatient.

Your hands immediately reach behind your back, and you pull a string that immediately frees your chest. Your top ends up on the ground.

“Good girl.” He rewards as he leans his head down and kisses all around the soft flesh of your breast. His tongue darts out, gently lapping at your nipple, causing you to shiver. A smile curls onto his lips. He loves your reactions.

“Nanami~” You impatiently whine again.

“So needy.” He clicks his tongue. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“Please.. no I-“ You fumble over your words, feeling to shy that you want him to fuck you into next week.

“Use your words. Tell me.” He’s unrelenting.

“I want.. want you to fuckmeplease.” You quickly say, mushing all your words together.

“You can do better than that, dear. Try again.” It’s no wonder he’s a fucking dom.

“Please fuck me.” You finally whine out.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you, right here?” He asks as he adjusts his arms. He cradles the back of your thighs with one arm as his other is busy pushing down his swimming trunks just enough.

“Yes.. please..”

“Right where any of our friends could come and see us?” He questions once more as he hooks his fingers into your bikini bottoms, and he pulls them to the side.

“Yes..” You whine as you glance down. Your skin runs cold as you see his length.

“So impatient.” He muses as he gently starts to rub the small bundle of nerves in tight circles, causing your body to shake lightly in anticipation. Your legs hook around his waist, and your arms stay around his shoulders.

“Hope you can be quiet, darling.” He taunts as he aligns himself with your hot wet entrance. He hums as he pushes in at a torturously slow pace. It feels like he’s splitting you in half, quite literally impaling you with his cock as he lowers you down onto it.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel each inch of him push into you. Harsh jagged pants and small moans escape from you involuntarily.

“Or don’t. I wouldn’t mind them knowing how good I can make you feel.”

“F-fuck too big.. ngh~ I.. I can’t.”

“Shh. You can take it.” He hums as he presses soft kisses to your neck. “You’re my— hah.. good girl, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes!” You stifle a cry as your body hopelessly clings to him. He’s only halfway in, and you’re already so delirious.

“So warm and… ngh tight for me, hm?” He praises as he continues shoving himself inside of you. His self control is slowly withering away as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Therree we go..” He purrs as he’s finally buried himself to the hilt. “Biiig stretch.”

“Sh-shut.. up.” You whimper out of embarrassment as you lean your head down into his shoulder.

“What did you just say?”

“N-noth-“

His hips pull back and snap inward forcefully, causing your back to thump against the wall. “Ah!”

“Say it again.” He demands.

“Shut up..” Your voice is barely a whisper, and Nanami laughs at you. He laughs.

“Oh darling.” He murmurs into your ear quietly. “I’d suggest you check your tone before you speak to me like that again.” He rams his cock into you once more, causing a small whisper-cry to fall from your mouth. “Or else everyone in this goddamn house will find out how much you love being fucked by me.” His hips start to move at a brutal pacing. Your back is flat against the wall as you’re physically knocked back with each thrust.

“I-I… ah~ … ‘m sorry.”

“I know you are.” He murmurs quietly into your ear. “Ngh.. fuck’s sake.. takin’ me so well.” He praises as his hands are dragging you in sync up and down his cock, impaling you harder.

Your walls squeeze around him so deliciously, and your pretty sounds falling from your mouth. Nanami doesn’t feel in control for the first time. Sure, he’s the dominant one in this situation, but his hips are moving completely on their own accord, rutting into you fervently. His cock can’t get enough of your warm spongy walls wrapping around him.

Glancing down, he can see a ring of white and clear slick gathering at the base of his cock. “Such a mess.” He mumbles as starts rolling his hips faster into you.

His thick tip gently kissed your cervix with each roll of the hips. Your body was trembling in his arms. “Na..fuck.. nanami~” You moan as your nails are digging into his shoulder blades, giving him scratched as trophies.

“That’s right, darling. Say my name.”

“Nanami~”

“Louder. Want .. mnnph.. want our friends to hear you.” His hips are rocking back and forth deliciously, rutting you into the wall like an untamed animal. His body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and his normally kept blonde hair was messily falling onto his forehead.

“Nanami!” You shout, obeying his demand.

“Good fucking girl.” He growls as he bounces your body up and down along his length.

“Sh-shit.. Nanami, I wanna… ah~ wan’ to cum please.” You ask for permission as soon as you feel the coiling heat in your stomach. Your body is so close.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me feel you.” He pants as he feels his orgasm nearing as well.

“Oh, fuck-“ You whimper as your body spasms on him. Your walls clenching around him impossibly tighter.

“Thaaat’s it.” He purrs as he pumps himself in and out of you gently, fucking you through your orgasm. “That’s a good girl, finishing on my cock like that. So pretty when you cum.”

Your poor fucked out cunt is so sensitive as he’s continually forcing his cock in and out between your soaked folds. Grunts and growls escape his mouth as his pacing is slower but purposeful.

“You ready for my- mmnph~ cum, baby? Where you want it, huh?” He asks as his legs are starting to tremble with each thrust. It’s taking every last inch of self control he has not to finish right then.

“I-inside.. please, don’t pull out.” You whine as your legs tighten around him more.

“Want it inside your pretty cunt? You wanna be filled with my cum? You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes, please.. fuck~ please, Nanami.”

“Come here.” A deep growl rumbles from his throat as he pushes into you as deep as your pussy will allow, and his cock twitches with each rope of cum his blows into you. You’re able to count at least six. “Ohhh~ fuck-!” He curses as his entire body stays tense for a few more moments.

Deep breaths fill the silence.

Your body is gently trembling in his arms as you’re both coming down from your highs. He presses a small kiss to your cheek. “Do you think you can stand..?”

“N-no..” You reply sheepishly.

“Okay darling, I’m gonna sit you down on the floor. I’ll be right back, okay? Just get your top on and wait for me.” He reassures before hissing as he pulls out of you. His seed immediately trickles down your thighs.

He gently sits your bottom down onto the ground, and he makes sure you’re okay before he pulls his swim trunks back up and walks out towards the back patio.

Your body will barely cooperate with you as you tie the lilac bikini top back to your chest. Your hands keep shaking and fucking up the knot.

From the patio, you hear loud cheers and claps coming from Satoru.

“Na-na-mi!” He chants to embarrass his friend. A few others in the pool chant along with him, loving the look of annoyance and underlying pride on his face.

Kento simply rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs his clothes and your sheer skirt from the back patio. “Go for round two. Don’t be a pussy!” Satoru shouts obscenely, and Nanami flips him off as he walks back into the house with you.

He puts his shirt on you to cover you up and carries you back to his dorm bridal style.

“Sleep at mine tonight. We’ll get you some clothes tomorrow and go to the store.” He offers as he closes his door with his hip.

“The store?” You ask curiously, wondering why you two would need to go to the store. “I’m on birth control.” You inform, thinking he’s talking about getting a plan B.

“Well, that’s good to know, but I was talking about getting your ropes.” He responds with a soft smile as he gently sits you down on the couch. He then digs some clothes for you two to wear out of his dresser.

You had almost forgotten all about shibari after he had fucked you like that. Your eyes immediately glanced over towards his coat rack, and your eyebrows furrow as you realize it’s empty.

“What happened to your other ropes?” You quietly ask.

“Hm? I gave them to a beginner shibari master.” He says casually as he pulls his swimming trunks off. You politely try to look away, which earns a laugh out of him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me before.” He muses.

“Not like this-!” You shout with a pout as your hands cover your eyes. “Why did you give them away?” You ask quietly.

Nanami pulls on some dry pajama pants, and he carefully walks up to you while you still have your eyes covered. His thumb gently brushes against your lips, causing you to flinch slightly.

“I don’t want you to feel reminded by other people when you’re in here with me. This is our space. We’ll have our own ropes just for me to tie you up with and no one else. You’re the only person for me, and I don’t want you to think that since I have other ropes, it means I’m tying up other people.” He quietly explains as he takes your hands away from your eyes.

“But your business..?” You quietly ask as your eyebrows knit together. The thought was so considerate and sweet, but you didn’t want to be the reason for his loss of income.

“Is not as important as you are. Besides, I photograph other things.”

“And… if you take pictures of me..?”

“My eyes only.” He grins before pressing a kiss into your cheek.

BONUS SCENE.

“How’s that, darling?” Nanami asks as he tightens the knot against your wrists. “You remember the safe word?”

“Feels good.” You softly hum as you allow for your eyes to close. “Yes, I remember the safe word.” The safe word was Malaysia. Nanami admires your expression. You were a complete natural at this. He started off small, only tying your wrists behind your back as you were on his knees.

The red jute rope looked so pretty as it pressed against your flesh. He took out his camera and snapped a picture of your hands bound together. Then a picture of your relaxed face.

“So beautiful.” He praises quietly.

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes one more picture.

“Something feels wrong.” You murmur quietly, and Nanami’s face shifts to one of concern.

“What is it, baby? Too tight?” He asks as he immediately goes to look at your wrists, making sure that he didn’t accidentally bind you too tightly.

“No.. my mouth feels empty.”

Kento’s movement stops as he looks down at you. You give a coy smile back up at him.

“Oh, I see. Too empty?” He says as he leans back up, standing in front of you to where you’re eye-level with his belt.

“Uh huh..”

“You want me to fix that, baby?”

“Please.”

His hand buries into the hair on the top of your head, and he grabs onto it with one hand. His other hand unbuckled his belt and frees his already hard cock from the constraints of clothes.

Your mouth waters as he holds your head just far enough way to where you can see his cock but not touch it. Your wrists immediately pull against the restraints.

“Oh? Is this what you want, hm?” He asks as he slowly pulls your face forward.

“Y-yes..” You stutter, immediately feeling neediness pool between your thighs as you see a bead of precum gather on his reddening tip.

“Open up for me.”

Your mouth is immediately open as you look up at him.

“Ohh, good girl.” He purrs as he thrusts his hips forward, filling your mouth with cock.

You’ve never been happier (or fuller).

BONUS-BONUS SCENE!!

“This plan is absurd.” Hiromi gripes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, they’re hopeless. What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help them out?” Satoru asks with a grin.

“Okay, run it by me one more time.” Hiromi says with a small sigh. He should be studying for the bar right now, but his friends needed him.

“Shoko is going to bring Yn to the pool party. You try to get her alone, and I’ll send Nanami in there to get you to come outside. He’ll see her with you and be so overcome with jealousy that he’ll have to spill his feelings!” Satoru explains with big hand gestures.

“You meddle in everyone’s love lives too much.” Suguru shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Shoko started it! She was the one who went telling Yn that Nanami tied up girls, knowing damn well that would intrigue her.” Satoru deflects, causing Shoko to scoff.

“I was doing him a favor! He was clearly lovesick over her, and when she mentioned liking him too, I just gave her a little breadcrumb to make her more interested.” Shoko adamantly defended herself. “You were the one who followed them to the cafe after I told you not to!”

“I had to see it for myself if he was actually going to take her on a date and bring her around!”

“All of you should be charged with stalking and harassment.” Hiromi remarks as he shakes his head. “Remind me to never tell you guys if I have a crush or not.”

*** *** ***

Tags: @theuniversesnepobaby @lemonlimecrystal-blog @getoisinnocent @jjknanamin

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[jaylalolz]

,, YOUR MINE ‘‘ nicholas chavez

warnings : smuttttyyyy

a/n : this is so long i’m sorry

summary : a virgin meets her new priest, charlie, and has unholy thoughts about him.

THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISRESPECT ANYONE. IF YOU DONT SUPPORT/LIKE THIS THEN DONT READ IT !!!

Maddie sat in the pew, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white. She felt the cool wood of the church beneath her and inhaled deeply, trying to focus on the familiar scent of incense and the soft flickering of candlelight. The nave was quiet, save for the low murmur of a few others whispering their prayers. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting hues of red, blue, and gold onto the marble floor.

She knew she needed to go to confession. Her stomach churned with guilt, and her heart raced every time she thought about what she was about to confess. It wasn’t her first time in the sacrament of penance, but this felt different. This was something she had never admitted to anyone, not even herself, until now.

She glanced toward the confessional, its dark wooden frame both inviting and intimidating. Her eyes flickered up to the crucifix above the altar, and she whispered a silent prayer for courage. Her new priest, Father Charlie, was in the confessional today. The thought of facing him in that small booth made her throat tighten, but she had no other choice. The weight of her secret was becoming unbearable.

Maddie had only known Father Charlie for a few months, ever since he had arrived at their parish. He was younger than she had expected—soft-spoken but with a presence that commanded attention. There was a warmth about him, something that made people feel at ease. But for Maddie, that ease had quickly turned into something else. Something she didn’t want to admit to herself, let alone to God.

With trembling hands, she stood and walked toward the confessional. Each step felt heavy, as though she were wading through water. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the door and knelt down inside the small wooden booth, closing the door behind her. The familiar smell of wood polish and candle wax filled her nostrils, calming her for a brief moment.

Through the mesh screen, she could see the outline of Father Charlie sitting on the other side. She heard him clear his throat softly, then speak.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he began, his voice low and calming.

Maddie crossed herself and whispered, “Amen.”

He waited a moment, allowing the silence to settle between them, before he continued. “How long has it been since your last confession?”

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “A month, Father.”

There was another pause, and Maddie could feel his presence more acutely now, even though she couldn’t see him clearly. The confessional felt smaller than usual.

“Go ahead,” Father Charlie said gently. “What do you wish to confess?”

Maddie’s heart hammered in her chest, her hands trembling in her lap. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had rehearsed what she was going to say a dozen times in her mind, but now, in the quiet of the confessional, her carefully planned words scattered like dust.

“Father,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I��I’ve been having impure thoughts.”

There was a moment of silence on the other side, and Maddie wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating. She clenched her hands tighter, trying to stop them from shaking.

“Go on,” Father Charlie said gently, his tone encouraging, as though he could sense her fear.

“I…” She swallowed again, her mouth dry. “It’s not just impure thoughts, Father. They’re about…someone.”

Maddie’s face burned with shame knowing she is talking about Father Charlie. She wanted to melt into the floor, to disappear and never have to face this moment again. She had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, than she did in that instant.

On the other side of the screen, Father Charlie smirked His breathing remained steady, and Maddie wondered what he must be thinking. How could he not be shocked? How could he not recoil at her words? But there was no reaction. No sharp intake of breath, no awkward shuffling. Just silence. Maddie couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, her voice breaking. “I don’t know why this is happening. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but every time I see him, every time I hear his voice, I…I can’t help it. These thoughts, these feelings, they just…they won’t go away.”

Her chest tightened, and she fought back the tears that were threatening to spill over. She had never felt more ashamed, more humiliated.

After what felt like an eternity, Father Charlie finally spoke, his voice steady but softer now.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said, his words careful. “It takes great courage to confess such things.”

Maddie let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, but her heart still raced. She had no idea what he would say next. Would he condemn her? Would he tell her that her feelings were sinful, that she was wrong to have them?

“What you are feeling,” he continued after a brief pause, “is not uncommon. We are all human, and we all experience moments of weakness, moments when our thoughts stray in ways we wish they wouldn’t.”

Maddie nodded silently, tears beginning to blur her vision. She hadn’t expected compassion. She felt a flicker of relief, though the weight of her shame still pressed down on her.

Maddie wiped away a tear that had fallen, her heart feeling lighter now. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this—a gentle reminder of her humanity, of their shared struggle. It wasn’t condemnation, but understanding.

“Your penance,” Father Charlie said quietly, “is to say three Hail Marys and to spend some time reflecting on the love that God has for you. He knows your heart, Maddie, and He forgives you.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over her for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you, Father,” she whispered.

As Maddie stood to leave the confessional, she paused for a moment, her hand on the door.

A week had passed since Maddie’s confession, and though she had tried to focus on her prayers, her thoughts kept returning to that moment in the confessional, her voice trembling as she admitted her feelings to Father Charlie. She avoided eye contact with him at Mass, ashamed of what she had shared, but there was something else too—an undeniable pull toward him, a curiosity about how he had handled her confession so calmly, so compassionately.

After Sunday Mass, Maddie lingered in the church longer than usual, kneeling in prayer but mostly trying to gather her thoughts. The church was quiet now, the soft shuffle of feet and the rustling of coats fading as people slowly filed out. The sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting a golden hue over the altar.

She was about to stand and leave when she heard a voice behind her.

"Maddie?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him—Father Charlie. His voice had become unmistakable to her now, carrying a warmth that both soothed and unsettled her.

She turned slowly and found him standing just a few feet away, his black cassock crisp and formal, yet his expression kind and open. He wasn’t wearing the confessional mask of formality. This was just Charlie now—no screen, no distance.

“Father,” she said softly, her heart pounding in her chest again.

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment,” he said, taking a step closer. He gestured toward one of the pews, and she nodded, sitting down as he joined her. There was a moment of silence, and Maddie could feel the weight of it hanging between them. She kept her gaze lowered, studying her hands in her lap, unsure of what he was about to say.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about your confession,” Charlie began, his voice steady but softer than usual. “And I believe there’s more to discuss than what we could cover in the confessional.”

Maddie’s heart skipped again, her stomach twisting. She didn’t know where this was going, but the tension in her body made her pulse race. She looked up at him, his eyes calm but serious.

“I want to help you, Maddie,” he continued, his voice gentle. “But I think it would be easier to talk in a more private setting. Not here, where everything feels so… formal.”

Her pulse quickened, and she felt the awkwardness rising inside her. Was he inviting her to…? No, she shook the thought away before it could fully form. He was still her priest, and this was still about her spiritual guidance. There couldn’t be anything more.

Charlie cleared his throat, his eyes shifting slightly as if he could sense her discomfort. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “if you’re comfortable with it, maybe you could come over for dinner. We could talk more freely there, without the pressure of the confessional.”

Maddie blinked in surprise. Dinner? The idea of sitting across from him in a more intimate setting—without the screen, without the anonymity of the church—made her thighs burn. Her immediate instinct was to refuse, to put up a wall and protect herself from what she knew could happen if she let her guard down.

But then she remembered his kindness, the way he had listened to her confession without judgment, offering compassion where she had expected rejection. Maybe this was an opportunity to finally get clarity, to face the confusion and temptation she had been wrestling with.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Charlie added quickly, his voice sincere. “This isn’t… this isn’t about anything inappropriate, Maddie. I just think it would help to have a real conversation. I understand if it’s too much, though.”

She met his eyes for the first time since that day in the confessional. There was nothing predatory in his gaze, no ulterior motive—just concern. He genuinely wanted to help her, and despite her fear, she trusted him. That trust, however, made it even more complicated.

“I… I think that might help,” Maddie said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Maddie barely touched her food. She could feel Charlie’s eyes on her every now and then, and the knot in her stomach tightened with each glance. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Maddie, I’ve noticed something,” he said, his tone gentle but serious. She looked up from her untouched plate, her heart skipping a beat. “What is it?”

“You’ve been… distracted. During Mass.”

Her heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. She knew what was coming. She could feel it in the air between them. Charlie leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching hers.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been avoiding eye contact with me lately,” he continued. “And even before your confession… I could tell something was on your mind.”

Maddie’s face burned with embarrassment, and she dropped her gaze to the table, unable to meet his eyes. She had hoped he hadn’t noticed, but of course he had. He was her priest, after all—attuned to the nuances of the people in his care “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Charlie didn’t say anything for a moment, waiting for her to continue. The silence hung between them like a heavy weight.

“You’re right,” Maddie admitted, her fingers trembling as she played with the edge of her napkin. “I’ve been distracted. I haven’t been able to focus during Mass, and it’s… it’s because of you.”

Her last words hung in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter. Maddie dared to glance up at Charlie. His face remained calm, though his eyes darkened with something she couldn’t quite read.

“Because of me?” he asked softly, his voice steady .

Maddie’s chest tightened, and she took a deep breath, knowing she had no choice but to confess the truth now. She had come here to confront her feelings, to address what had been eating at her, and there was no turning back.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in a unholy way” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “Ever since you came to the parish, it’s been… difficult. I know it’s wrong, I know you’re my priest, but I can’t help it. It’s like you’re always on my mind, and it’s affecting everything—my prayers, my faith, my peace.”

Charlie’s expression didn’t change, but his hands clenched slightly around the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. He remained silent, giving her the space to continue.

“I thought maybe talking to you tonight would help me figure out what to do,” Maddie continued, her voice barely above a whisper now. “But being here… it’s just making it harder. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way.”

Her confession was out now, laid bare between them. She could hear her own heartbeat in the silence that followed, could feel the tension radiating through her body, as if the air between them had thickened with unsaid words.

Charlie’s eyes flickered with something—sympathy, perhaps, but also an understanding that ran deeper than she expected. He exhaled slowly, as if gathering his thoughts before speaking.

“Maddie,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “I understand how difficult this is for you. And I need you to know that what you’re feeling isn’t unnatural. These thoughts, these feelings… they happen. To both of us.”

Maddie’s breath hitched. Both of us? Did that mean…?

Charlie leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “I mean that maybe it’s better to… release some of the tension. These thoughts, these feelings—you don’t have to hold onto them so tightly.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt a cold wave of shock ripple through her. “Release the tension?”

Charlie nodded slowly, his voice low and calm, but his words held a gravity she hadn’t expected. “I know you’ve been trying to resist it, Maddie, but sometimes resisting only makes the desire stronger. It’s human nature. Maybe… maybe it would help to let yourself feel it. To stop fighting against it.”

Maddie’s face flushed hot, her heart racing as the implications of his words sank in. She felt a lump form in her throat, and her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

“You mean…” she started, but her voice faltered, unable to finish the sentence.

Charlie’s gaze didn’t waver. “What I mean is… it’s okay to acknowledge your desire. There’s no shame in it. It’s natural to have these feelings, especially when there’s such strong tension between us.”

Maddie’s eyes widened, her stomach tightening with a mix of shock and something else—something dangerous that she had been trying to push down since the moment she walked through his door.

“Have you ever…?” Charlie hesitated, but the question hung heavily in the air. “Have you ever touched yourself while thinking about me?”

Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. The question was like a punch to the gut, but it was also the very thing she had been dreading and hoping he wouldn’t ask. The truth was that she had—more than once, in the privacy of her bedroom, late at night when the thoughts she couldn’t suppress became too overwhelming to ignore. The guilt had followed her like a shadow, but the need had been stronger, overpowering.

She dropped her gaze to the table, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her napkin tightly. She couldn’t meet his eyes, not after that question.

“I…” She started to speak but hesitated, the shame and desire warring within her. “Yes,” she whispered, barely able to say the word aloud. “I have.”

The admission felt like a weight lifting from her chest and, at the same time, a heavy anchor pulling her deeper into the dangerous waters they were treading. She had crossed a line, and now she was standing at the edge of something she couldn’t undo.

Charlie exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair as if he had expected the answer but needed to hear it from her. His gaze was intense, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only a strange understanding that made her feel both relieved and more vulnerable than ever.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Charlie said quietly, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “You’re human, Maddie. We both are. And these feelings, these urges… they’re part of that. Trying to deny them only makes them stronger.”

Maddie’s head spun, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate. She had come here seeking clarity, hoping to calm the turmoil inside her, but this—this was only making the storm stronger. She had confessed her desires to him, and now he wasn’t telling her to resist them. He wasn’t telling her to fight back. He was telling her to let go.

“But…” she began, her voice shaking. “You’re a priest. This… this isn’t right.”

Charlie sighed, his gaze softening. “I know. Believe me, I know. But right and wrong aren’t always black and white. There’s no sin in acknowledging desire, Maddie. There’s no sin in being honest with ourselves.”

Her breath caught as he began to run his hands up her thighs. He kisses up her neck and says, "Tell me you want this, tell me you want me." She pauses to consider whether doing this was the best course of action.She then recalls Charlie claiming it wasn't a sin, so why would he lie about that? Eagerly nodding, she says, "Yes, please, I want you."

Her eyes roll back to her head as he moves to her private area and begins gently massaging her covered clit. He whispers in her ear, making her thighs burn, "I remember those times when you wore those short skirts. It's like you wanted me to bend you over in front of everyone and punish you."

Once more, he begins to kiss up her neck, but this time he sucks part of it. Leaving a dark spot, she groans loudly at the strange sensation. He smirks.

His hand begins to go toward her breasts, giving her skin shivers. He unbuttoned her blouse and said, "Every time I saw you in church, your blouse always unbuttoned around me, it's like you wanted it to happen." She says nervously, "I did it on purpose to get your attention."

His eyes darkened and he looked up at her. She yelps as she felt him clutch her throat. He exclaims, "You're such a slut for me," and presses his lips to hers. Even though she has a million things on her mind, her heartbeat is happening ten times quicker than she is. His thumb resting on the side of her jaw, as he pulled her hair back behind her ear with his other hand.

A fast kiss was exchanged between the two. As their tongues swirled together, he inserted his tongue into her mouth. Maddie felt as though her fantasies were becoming true. His movements sped up till he came to stop and pulled away. Maddie lets out a gasp. "Lay on the bed," he insists.

She approaches his bed nervously and crawls to the middle of it. She spins around to face him. He looks her over. Her stomach churns as she looks at her from top to bottom.

He moves toward the bed and crawls on all fours to her. He looks at her between his eyebrows as he begins to kiss at her legs and continues all the way up to her thighs.

"Hey. I won't do anything that you don't want me to.” He whispers, "Tell me if you're not comfortable” She considers it for a brief moment. concluding that she wants for him to continue. She tells him, "Don't stop," he licks his lips and smirks.

Eagerly he tugs at her skirt. As he tries to slides it down, he realizes there's a zipper on the side. While unzipping her skirt and pushing it until it reaches the bottom of her legs, he maintains eye contact with her.

He presses his nose down into her thighs, planting little kisses on her closeted clit. He groans as she pulls on his hair with a deep moan. He gives her an intense look as he gradually begins removing her underwear. She glances away from him as butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach.

He comments, "You're so gorgeous.. in every way," as he surveys her figure. To prevent her from leaving, he grabs her legs and pins them to the bed. What he provides her, she has to accept. He makes her back arch as he licks her slit.

As if she were the last thing he would ever eat, he puts his head down and begins to devour her. She groans aloud as he gives her a passionate kiss on the clit. He groans louder as she tugs at his hair more forcefully than before.

He approaches her hole and begins carefully putting his finger inside of her. She puts her head down on the cushion, shuts her eyes, and her jaw lowers. He begins to eat her out while fingering her. Sucking on her sensitive clit, he pushes in and out with his finger.

Her tummy begins to feel strange, and her back arches. He smirks as her pussy tightens around his finger. "It's alright, sweetheart.” He comforts her, let yourself go," as she comes undone with a loud groan.

She catches her breath as he emerges from her privates, covered in her juices. He pulls her to him by grabbing a strand of her hair and gives her a kiss. Allowing her to taste herself.

“Your mines now”

[satorusugurugurl]

hiiiii!!! I love your work💗💗💗

Could you do giving the JJK men a honey pack lol

I keep seeing it on my fyp😂

JJK Men: It’s Just Honey—Right?

Summary: JJK Men are given a honey pack, an aphrodisiac, and a male enhancer! What could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna(Modern AU), AFAB!Reader

Warnings: aphrodisiac use, smut, public play, language, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (F receiving), prone bone, multiple positions, multiple orgasms. Somno

Word Count: 8.7K

A/N: Nonnie, sorry this request took so long! It just sort of took on a mind of its own! I hope you enjoy it. I know I did! 🥴💚

Geto Suguru:

“Does stuff like this even work?” You asked as you lay on the bed in the love hotel you were stuck in.

You and Geto had gotten stuck in a typhoon, and instead of risking one of the assistant supervisor's safety, to come pick you up. You both decided staying in a hotel for the night would be best. The only problem was that the only hotel with rooms was a love hotel. Which, of course, wasn’t an issue for you both, seeing that you were dating happily but were stuck in a love hotel to see all sorts of exciting things.

A majority of the things you saw were related to sex, from sex toys, videos, and male enhancers. You have heard about more common ones like Viagra. But you had never seen one as a pack of honey before. You tossed it up in the air, catching it in your palm before tossing it back into the air, watching the foil package flip before landing back into the palm of your hand. Your boyfriend looked at you from his chair across the room with an amused smile.

“Is this your way of asking if I’ve taken enhancers in the past before?”

“What, no, never! I was just wondering if they work. I’ve never taken one before. I know they make some for women. I’m just lucky enough that I’ve never needed it.”

“Well, I can assure you that I’ve never needed to take one before myself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am well aware of that.”

Suguru placed his book down before taking a long look at you. You were nothing but booty shorts and his T-shirt. You looked good enough to eat right now, and your curiosity had piqued a curious interest of his own. No one was coming for you both until the morning, which meant you had time to kill—or better yet, time to screw each other‘s brains out.

“Hey, can I see that for a second?”

Not thinking much of your boyfriend’s request, you threw the package at him, your eyes glued to the ceiling before you heard a ripping sound. For a second, you thought maybe it had been your imagination. There was no way your boyfriend, who was very logical, ripped open the aphrodisiac honey, but there was the only way to be sure that he hadn’t done something like that; slowly, you turned your head as your boyfriend squeezed the entire package into his mouth, violet eyes watching you as he did so there was a dark, mischievous glee behind them as he stuck his tongue out, letting the honey drip all over his tongue.

You sputtered and blinked before opening and closing your mouth in disbelief. ”S-Suguru? What did you do?” Suguru’s pink tone darted out slowly, trailing over his bottom lip. Not once did his eyes leave yours.

“I’m conducting an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“A majority of the time, stuff like this doesn’t work. It’s mostly for show, like a placebo for the brain. So we want to know if it works, so let’s put it to the test.”

It was safe to say that Suguru’s initial theory was wrong. The honey packet that he ingested was, in effect, a very real aphrodisiac. He was fine; one second, and the next, his cock was as hard as a diamond. Regret settled in his bones as he glanced back at you, who had taken notice of the tent in his pants. You didn’t say anything; instead, your actions spoke volumes. You took your shirt off by throwing it in his face, followed by your shorts and your underwear.

He swallowed, cheeks flushing, a dusty rose before he was up in on you like green on grass. The normal foreplay and preparation he always carefully took was the furthest thing on his mind. All he could focus on was how hard his cock hurt. It throbbed painfully as he tugged his pants down, freeing his erection—the tip red with rage as he spit into his hand, lubing it up.

“Need you.” he snarled, “I fucking need you.”

Suguru didn’t even give you a chance to respond to him. Because the second you opened your mouth, he had flipped you over onto your stomach while he laid flat on top of pressing the head of covk against your tight entrance. You shuddered, gripping the sheets as he slammed into you, gritting his teeth as he buried his face in the space between your shoulder blades. The sensation of his hot breath against your cool skin sent shivers throughout your body, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

Your boyfriend had lost it. He had entirely completely and irrefutably lost his composure. And you weren’t at all upset about it.

“Fuuuck!” You cried out as he set a brutal pace. “S-Sugu—-!”

“Need you.” He repeated in an almost primal growl. “I need all of you!”

You squeaked out a whimper as he sank his teeth into your shoulder before leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys all along your skin. He was marking you up, claiming you as his and his alone. The need that seeped out of his being through his actions and words left you feeling dizzy.

“S-Sugu!”

“Ahhn! Fuck! Princess.”

Watching him lose control like this, feeling him pressing against you in the rawest way, had your eyes rolling back as he forced himself inside. Your muffled moans left Suguru's cock throbbing so hard inside of you that he was afraid he would cum right then in there. He wasn't sure if it was the honey, or his own desire, but he was losing himself at the feeling of being inside of you. You were so wet and tight, and god, you smelt heavenly.

This new-found lust, the desire, had him digging his hands into the sheets underneath you. The earthy musk had your head spinning, fueling your desire as if you had partaken of the honey yourself. You cried out as Suguru continued littering your skin with bites. It was so raw, so hot, and you were already on the edge.

“S-Sugu!” You cried out, feeling your walls clamping around him, squeezing him for all that he was worth. “Suguru I-I—!”

You didn't need to say those last few words as a curtain of dark hair fell around you. “I know,” Suguru grunted, pulling all the way out before slamming into you, making the bed creak under your combined weight. “I can feel it~ feel your tight walls convulsing; I feel you trying to hold back.” His lips pressed against your cheek, breath hot against your sweat-sheened skin. “Don't do that, baby~ I wanna feel you~ wanna make you feel good with my cock.” Your hips rolled shamelessly back against Suguru’s cock, his words egging you.

“C-Close—”

“Yeah, it feels good, doesn't it, Princess~? My thick cock stretching you out, making you feel so good?”

“M-Mhmm!” Your toes curled, breathing quickening as Suguru used all of his strength to fuck you into the mattress. “F-Fuck! I-I’m gonna! Gonna!”

“Yeah— cum for me, baby! Cum all over my cock.”

His words alone, dark and needy, sent you tumbling over the edge. You screamed into the pillow, crying tears of ecstasy as your orgasm was ripped out of you. It was violent and oh-so-tucking good, leaving you a convulsing mess underneath your boyfriend, who shuddered, cock throbbing inside of you. Warmth flooded your pussy as he came, the hot spurt filling you, but not once did Suguru stop. He kept going fucking into you like a crazed animal, stopping you as you weakly tried pulling away.

Once he stopped, you shakily lifted your head out of the sheets, crying out softly as his still-hard cock twitched inside of you. It seemed as though the package wasn't lying about enhancing male performance. Your boyfriend had just filled you up and was raring to go for another round, which was both alluring and terrifying at the same time.

“You okay?” Suguru questioned, voice gravely in your ear as he gently peppered your skin with kisses. You swallowed hard, trying to alleviate the burning in your throat. “Good.”

Without a warning, Suguru slowly began thrusting in and out of you. He kept his pace soft and sweet to not overstimulate you. But before you knew it, those soft, slow thrusts were replaced with the mean, bullying backshots he had just given you. He kept that pace up for over an hour. Face down, ass up on the mattress. His cock had been so hard that it hurt, and no matter how many times he had cum inside of you, it didn't feel like it was enough.

Until he was the one suffering from the overstimulation. He was panting and crying against your lips as his cock throbbed inside of you, draining the last of his cum inside of your wet and willing hole. Both of you were completely gone at that point. Nothing more than a heap of twitching muscles as Suguru lay down, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.

“Y-You good?” You asked in between gasps.

Suguru swallowed hard, reaching for a water bottle on the side of the bed and handing it to you. “S-So fucking good—“ Suguru sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you tight against his side. “I-I think that e-experiment was a success.” You swallowed the last gulp before handing the half bottle to your boyfriend.

“A success indeed.” He slowly reached for his phone, texting on the screen with a lazy smirk. “And it’s an experiment gonna get me out of some paperwork.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna tell Satoru about it. Get out of some work for a while.”

“Oooh, texting your ‘boyfriend’ after you just put me in ninety-nine positions?” There was a joking tone to your teasing, but your boyfriend scoffed, sitting up to hover over you.

He pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “I’m texting my best friend this so I can get out of extra work and spend that free time with you—” he reached for the nightstand waving the other honey pack in your face. “and the honey pack.”

“Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Text him!”

Gojo Satoru:

You had been minding your business, watching some trashy reality TV show, when a box was tossed on the coffee table. You pull your eyes away from the screen long enough to watch a flash of white blur before Satoru plopped down on the ground. Something was going on, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to participate. He snickered, rubbing his hands together as he looked the box over. Something was going on, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to participate.

But your curiosity got the better, urging you to find out why your boyfriend was in such a good mood. “What are you up to, Toru?” Your body almost moved as you kicked your blanket off, sitting on the floor beside him.

“Suguru and I made a bet.”

Yeah, if it were a bet between the two idiots, you definitely would not want to participate in this with them.

“What is with the two of you making bets against each other?” Satoru lost his hearing when it came to that comment. “Baby, what even is this?”

To answer your question, he ripped the tape off the box opening it up. Reaching his hand inside, he pulled out a pouch. The words ‘Honey Package’ were written in red, with hearts surrounding it. Before you could even begin telling Gojo, you had no intentions of taking whatever was in it. He flipped it over, resting it against the palm of his hand, revealing the clear backside of the package. Inside was a thick amber-colored liquid, which looked just like honey.

“This is like Viagra, but in honey form.”

“Satoru, keeping up with your stamina already is nearly too much. There’s no way you need to take one of those!”

“Ooh, please, you love my stamina. It keeps up with your sex drive.” He wasn't wrong about that at all. “Besides, there’s no way this shit works.”

Oh, well, this conversation took off in a completely different direction. “Huh?” You blinked, eyeing the package as Satoru squished it in his hand, using it like a stress ball. “Wait, you don’t think it’s gonna work?” Cerulean eyes almost glimmered with annoyance as they darted in your direction.

“Baby, these aphrodisiacs never work. What happens is you eat a bunch of strawberry chocolate, and you think that it’s an aphrodisiac urging you to fuck. This right here.” The foil packaging crumpled slightly. He ripped up one of the corners. “Is some rich assholes gimmick to try to make a bunch of money. These Influencers get a free sample and act like they fuck all night. They make a commission off of it. So yes, I don’t think it works.”

“But Suguru does? I thought for sure it would be the other way around.”

“Yeah, this is gonna be the easiest bet I’m gonna win.” You hummed, watching as Satoru squeezed the honey into his mouth. “I’m going to make him every single dessert from the many of the newest cafés downtown.”

“And what does he get if you lose?”

“Bragging rights, and I would have to do all his paperwork for an entire week.”

Satoru sighed constantly at the thought of syncing his teeth into some delicious sweets as he tossed the empty package onto the table before kicking his feet out in front of him, placing his hands behind his head. He had this in the bag, no doubt about that.

It only took thirty minutes to pass.

You were the first to notice something wasn't quite right with your loving boyfriend. He looked flushed; his hands gripped the sofa cushions for dear life, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. You decided it would be best for you to keep an eye on him in case he had some kind of reaction to the honey. It could be dangerous to take enhancers like that, not knowing what sort of effect they would have on the person. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick.

Another ten minutes passed, and Satoru threw his jacket off along with his pants, leaving him in nothing but his T-shirt and boxers. Although he had put himself in this state, you hated seeing him in such discomfort. With a heavy sigh, you got on your knee and pressed your hand against his forehead. He was hot to the touch, and you needed to lower his temperature.

“Toru, sweetie, let's get you in the shower, okay?” He panted heavily, cloudy crystalline blue eyes meeting yours. “We'll take a cool shower to get your temperature down.”

“I—-need—”

You frowned, leaning closer toward his mouth. “What was that? You need what?” Satoru's pretty lips quivered before his hand flew up, grabbing you by the arms and pushing you against the sofa. “T-Toru.” Your boyfriend towered above you, panting heavily as he looked you up and down with a growl, his erection throbbing in his boxers.

“I need you.” He growled, his hand reaching down, squeezing his cock. “I need you so bad; it hurts, baby. Please, please, I need you.”

Two things were clear to you at that moment. One, your boyfriend would be doing a ton of paperwork for the next month, and second, you were in for a fight for your life. The logical part of your brain told you to run; he had put himself in this situation so he could deal with it on his own. The other more empathetic part of you once against hated seeing him suffering.

Against all logical reasoning, you sighed, reaching down and tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You're not ever taking this shit again.” You Pulled him up, heading to the bedroom, where you shoved him down on the bed. “This shit has you all hot, chemicals and stuff.”

“It’s all organic.” He barked out, pulling you down onto the mattress with him. “It’s not so much bad as it’s well—” he trailed his fingers up the curves of your breasts. “It’s different,” Gojo finally whispered, his hand mimicking slowly moving up along your collarbone, sliding down the swell of your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat as he began massaging them, “And different isn't always a bad thing.” he nipped at your ear.

Gojo’s fingers slid further down, tracing circles around your nipples. They hardened automatically, causing you to arch your back at the sensations. Perhaps he was right—maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought it was going to be. You moaned, running your hand over Gojo’s crotch, palming at his already throbbing erection. Your moans and Gojo’s growls of pleasure began mixing, making it sound as though there was a promo playing in the background. But there wasn't; it was just you and your very hornh boyfriend.

“Fuck I need to touch you, Sweetie.” He said in a barely audible tone against the crook of your neck, “God, I need to. Need to be inside of you.” His hand slid further down, teasing your mound with careful fingers. As he did, he nipped and sucked on your neck, leaving you whimpering as you straddled him. You bucked your hips into his hand, craving more of his touch, wanting to feel his skin on your intimate parts.

“Toru, don’t tease me.” you begged through moans as you slid your hand into his boxers, “touch me baby.” Satoru hisses as you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and stroke him up and down. The contact had Gojo growling like a wild beast, thrusting into your hand, his fingers slipping further down until his entire hand was cupping your dripping sex.

You felt as though you were high off the honey as you inhaled sharply when his fingers slid up and down the lips of your pussy. “Holy shit, Sweetheart,” he growled lustfully in your ear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet.” Those long sinful fingers of his rubbed circles around your clit, causing you to gasp, “Mhmm, and it’s all for me.”

“And you’re so hard, Gojo,” you managed to whisper, “n-not that you aren't hard all the time. But you're fuck, you're so hard!” You began rubbing the pad of your thumb over the slit of his cock, “So fucking hard.” Pre-cum smeared over the sensitive head, leaving him moaning loudly as he dipped his fingers inside of you, pumping them. He watched as you peered up at him, moaning, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

Your boyfriend pressed his forehead against yours as he kept pumping his fingers. The fucking honey was enhancing everything he felt. The adoration for you, the lust, fuck he had never been this horny in his entire life. He let those feelings fuel him, helping him move as the two of you worked each other towards extraordinary mind-blowing orgasm.

Gojo curled his fingers, brushing them across your g-spot. You gasped loudly, squeezing his cock, causing him to growl loudly, pumping faster and harder against that sweet spot. You did your best to hold out as long as you could; you didn't want to cum too soon.

“Sweetheart,” Gojo licked your earlobe, nibbling it between his teeth. “Cum for me.” When he told you to do so, that was a different story.

You came hard, rocking against his fingers. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as Gojo kept moving his fingers, extending your orgasm. Your toes curled into the sheets as you arched your back, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. Gojo kept moving, not stopping until you were panting, basking in the afterglow of your release. When you finally opened your eyes, you met the lust-filled cerulean eyes of your boyfriend. He was staring at you, stroking your mound lazily.

“Toru,” you tugged at his shirt, “I need you to fuck me right now.” He was happy to oblige, stripping his shirt off and throwing it on the side of the bed before Gojo rolled, pushing you back against the mattress and hovering over you. He looked like he was seconds away from cumming, so you decided it would be best for you to take control, so you quickly rolled, flipping him back over so you were straddling him.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” His voice was as grave as he groaned, gripping your hips as you lowered yourself onto his impressive cock. You shivered, resisting the urge to start riding him right then and there and opting to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out. “Sweetie,” Satoru groaned, squeezing your hips. “Nngh!!” the honey had him desperate, wanting to fuck, so for you just to sit there, not moving, was literal torture. “Holy nngh! Fuck please, ride me already. You’re killing me here!” He thrusts up, causing you to gasp, making you bounce up and down. “That’s more like it.”

You nodded, grabbing your boyfriend's hands and sliding up the curves of your body before placing them on your breasts. Understanding your silent request, Satoru massaged and kneaded them, brushing his thumb and index fingers over your sensitive nipples. You whimpered, rocking your hips, his cock hitting your g-spot with every rock of your hips. Gojo sat up, thrusting eagerly to meet your rhythm.

You dig your fingers into Gojo’s fluffy tufts of pristine white hair, pulling him close to your breasts. He took the hint, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging, sucking, and nipping at it. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His fingers dug into the small of your back; you were pretty sure you were going to have bruises there tomorrow.

With each thrust from Gojo, you grew closer and closer, chasing your orgasm. Gojo's mouth continued to assault your nipples, teasing them ever so slightly. By this time, you and Gojo's moans groans, and growls of pleasure flooded the room. The two of you were so loud you were positive the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you.

But you didn't give a fuck about that.

All that mattered was how good Satoru felt. How your nails dug into his back, scratching at his flawless skin as he thrusts deeper and harder inside of you. You let out screams, digging your nails deeper into his skin as he flips the two of you over. Gojo stares at you before slamming his lips on yours. His tongue is fighting against yours for dominance. He growls, thrusting faster and deeper inside you.

“Toru, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped, gripping his hair and staring into his stunning eyes. He stares back into yours; he smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly.

“Cum for me, sweetie,” he mutters against your lips, “Haaah~ fuck yes, cum for me, cum with me.” He pounded ruthlessly into you, gripping the headboard and slamming into your g-spot.

You wrapped your legs around his digging your heels in his ass and pulling him deeper. And it sends you over the edge, you gasp, your orgasm rippling through you. You tighten around Gojo, and he groans, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts a few more times before following you over the edge, cumming inside you.

You lay there, Gojo’s weight crushing you, but you don't mind. After taking a second to catch his breath, he chuckled softly, pulling out of you before laying on his back, placing you flat on his chest. He took a deep breath, running his finger through your hair. You turned your head, resting it over his heart with a dorky smile.

“That was—”

“Amazing,” Gojo finished for you. That was amazing.” You giggled, nodding in agreement.

“Beyond amazing.”

“Mhmm.”

“Hey Gojo?” He lifted his head, staring into your eyes.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” You bite your bottom lip, kissing up his chest.

“Do you have any more of that, honey? I wanna try some with you.” You felt him tense. He grinned quickly, placing you on the side before he stood up, running out of the room and grabbing a package off the counter.

“Have as much as you like!” as you ripped the package open with your teeth, Satoru lifted your legs placing them over his shoulders as he kissed your inner thighs “Sit back and relax while you wait for it to kick in.” You swallowed the sweet liquid in your mouth before reaching down and running your hands through Gojo’s soft tufts of hair as he dragged his tongue up your slit. “I can keep myself entertained for now.”

Nanami Kento:

With Nanami working so many hours and you staying home caring for your daughter. You and Nanami hardly have any time alone anymore. Sure, you were able to sneak a date here and there—a quickie in the morning before he had to go to work. The romance, sex, and relationship were planned now. But Nanami missed the spontaneous sex; he missed laying in bed with you, hearing your gasps and moans. Feeling the way you would clamp down on him when you came.

God, he missed the sex.

Nanami sighed, running a hand over his face as he unlocked the door to your house. All the lights were off, meaning you had most likely put your daughter to bed, seeing that it was close to three in the morning. Kento dropped his keys and messenger bag on the entry table before heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Sitting on the counter was a loaf of homemade bread and a package of honey. Kento cocked an eyebrow as he approached the treat that had been left out for him. A sticky note with your handwriting on it was next to the bread.

‘It must have been a long day~ enjoy this aphrodisiac honey, and wake me up in the sweetest way you can. You have his full consent even if I’m asleep. Much Love— your wife!’

Kento reread the note several times before eyeing the honey. Aphrodisiac honey? He had heard you mention it before. You suggested trying one of these weekends when you both had time together, which might be a fun treat. And he was tired and stressed from a long day. He couldn't deny how his pants tightened at the thought of waking you up horny and completely needy.

Kento sliced himself a piece of bread without much thought before smearing it with the honey. It was surprisingly good. Most aphrodisiacs he had heard of had an odd taste to them. This tasted like honey bread. And that in itself was dangerous.

Kento managed to eat two slices of honey bread before he began feeling the effects working its way down to his cock. He wanted you, and seeing that you had given him your consent, he planned on having you. Not wanting to waste any more time, Kento headed up the stairs, gripping the railing. He quickly stopped into the nursery next to your bedroom to check on your daughter, who was sleeping peacefully. Nanami smiled, brushing back a cur of her hair before leaning down and kissing her forehead before heading into the master bedroom.

The lamp on your side of the bed was still on. It looked like you had fallen asleep while reading a book, and now you are resting on your chest. Kento leaned against the front of the bed, watching his wife sleep peacefully. Your chest moved up and down as you dreamed away. Your beautiful hair was sprawled against the pillow as the low light of the lamp illuminated your beautiful body. Your soft skin was complimented by your navy nightgown that hugged your curves perfectly. God, he was so lucky to have you in his life.

You muttered something, moaning softly as you dreamed. That sound had Nanami’s cock twitching as you rolled on your back, completely exposing your body to him. The honey seemed to take over his body. He had to have you right now. With a glance back at the nursery, Nanami decided to go through with his horny desires. He made quick work of shedding out of his clothes. If he was quiet enough, maybe he could get away with a midnight snack before he went to bed without waking your daughter.

Kento crawled under the sheets and comforter, slowly making his way up the bed. He listened to his wife for any sign that you had woken up, but you were still fast asleep. When he finally reached your feet, he began placing kisses on both of them, gently spreading your legs open as he made his way closer and closer to her pussy. Nanami nipped and sucked at your inner thighs, dragging his slight stubble on his chin over your soft skin.

He could never get over how soft your skin was. Or how you shivered under his lips, How you were wet with the slightest touch of his hands and lips. The honey was making his head whirl as he finally met your cunt. Ever so slowly, Nanami dragged his tongue along the folds of your pussy, moaning at your sweet taste. You were sweeter than the honey he had eaten. You were wet and delicious, so of course, he found himself reaching up and grabbing your hips as he pulled himself closer to your pussy, desperately wanting to taste more of you against his tongue.

“Mmm,” you whimpered in your sleep, moving slightly under his touch. That slight movement left Kento licking faster, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking in it hard. Your hips buckled slightly as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue against you. “K-Ken.” you exhaled softly, rocking your hips roughly as you dreamed.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered against your folds, sliding two fingers inside of you. When he breached the tight ring of muscles, he began pumping them, and suddenly, the sheets flew back. Nanami looked up at you, seeing flushed cheeks as you propped yourself up on your elbows, staring down at your husband.

“K-Kento, what are you doing?” you whispered between moans as he pumped his fingers faster, “Oh his God.” you groaned, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your hand reached down, gripping his hair, tugging it as he continued to kiss you. “Y-You found the h-honey!”

“Mhmm,” he moaned against you, moving his head back and forth, curling his fingers inside of you, moving them in the ‘come hither’ motion. “And it was delicious~ but my Love, you’re far sweeter.” Your hips bucked forward as you began convulsing around his fingers. Nanami could hear your breathing in fast, quiet pants as you tried to control your volume. Knowing he had that kind of effect on you had him smirking against your pussu, feeling you come undone over his slightest touches; God, the honey had already affected him, but you turned him on even more.

“K-Kento— I-I’m gon-” you could barely get out the rest of the sentence as his lips took your clit into his mouth again, and he sucked at you relentlessly. Pulling out gasps and earth-shattering moans that had him grinding against your mattress. Your hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the screams that threatened to escape. The last thing either of you wanted was to wake your daughter

Your left hand tangled in his blonde locks, tugging on it as you came against his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure shook your body as he continued sucking; his honey-brown eyes were dull from the amount of pleasure of watching you cum. God, he fucking loved you.

You panted roughly, slowly releasing your grasp on his hair. This allowed him to pull away, licking his lips before pulling his fingers out of you with a hiss. You shivered, watching as he slowly stuck his fingers into his mouth, sensually licking them clean. The seductive act left you staring at him as if he were one of the world's wonders. Seeing the hunger in your eyes, Nanami chuckled.

“If I didn't know any better, I would think you had eaten the honey.” He popped his fingers back into his mouth, watching as you slowly licked your lips before reaching up and cupping his face. Nanami followed your needy movements, letting you bring his face down to yours, kissing you deeply while pulling him down on top of you and trapping him there, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips as he pulled away, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Need you.” You nipped your teeth at his bottom lip. He moaned, slamming his lips against you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. His tongue moved against yours, massaging it as you rocked your hips against his crotch. He was so hard; he needed more of you. Nanami trailed his hands over the curves of your body, reaching for the front of your nightgown, kneading at your breasts.

You arched into his touch as he pulled your nightgown down, exposing your breasts to him. He took one of your perky nipples into his mouth and began sucking on your breast, tugging at it with his teeth, drawing out a long, loud moan from you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to suck and nip at you. Nanami groaned as your hands slowly trailed down his back, tugging his boxers off, allowing his erection to spring free from her confinements. Your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it with your hand softly. Kentowas already hard, but your touch made him even harder. He was eager for more, wanting to plunge into your slickened folds.

“Enough teasing,” you whispered against his neck as you trailed kisses down it, “I’m more than ready for you now.” you nipped at his skin, spreading your legs for him, “I want you, Kento.” How could he deny you? He made quick work pulling your nightgown off completely before kicking his boxers off. He hovered over you, cupping your face as he kissed you again.

“I love you, darling.” he whispered, grabbing his cock with his free hand and stroking it slightly, “Fuck, I love you so much; I missed you.”

“Show me how much you missed me,” you whispered breathlessly, staring into his honey-brown eyes. “Show me, Ken.”

As you commanded, he slowly began sliding inside of her. He groaned, feeling your juices coat the head of his cock. Kento bit down on his lip, trying to control himself. The honey had made his body overly sensitive. He can control himself. He watched her instead, enjoying the face you made. Her mouth opened slightly, and your cheeks flushed. You were such a beautiful woman. And this lovely woman had her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer towards your center.

“More,” You whispered through a moan, “I need more of you.” he nodded, kissing you lovingly as he slid deeper inside of you, his cock nestled deep inside of your pussy, hitting your cervix. “F-Fuck—” Kento paused for a moment, but only a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size before he began slamming in and out of you. “Y-Yes, oh fuck yes, Ken!.” you cried out, which was quickly silenced as Nanami placed his fingers over your lips.

“Shh, you’ll wake her up.” you mewled, nodding as you pursed your lips together as Nanami began thrusting slowly. He groaned as you lifted your hips in time with him, making his pace quicken. Your gasps and moans meddled in with the creaking bed. A symphony of pleasure that only made Nanami more eager. The honey made you look even more delicious as you arched your back, begging for more. To which he happily complied. Nanami’s hands slowly slid between your bodies. You bit down on your lip as his thumb instantly found your clit.

“Kento!” you gasped as his thumb lazily began tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. Which resulted in your bucking as he began slamming into you. Kento’d cock was painfully hard, but it didn't stop him from ramming against your g-spot with every thrust. In no time, your walls began clamping down on him.

“Fuck Love, you feel so good, baby.” He gasped loudly, thrusting deeper inside of you. His hands kneaded her breasts, his thumb and forefinger gripped and twisted your nipples, all while he trailed kisses down your neck, letting the aphrodisiac lead him. Your hands gripped his ass, gasping loudly as you whispered his name.

Kento felt the pleasure building inside his lower abdomen, like a coil tightening in his stomach. He was close. And from the way you were rocking against him, how you threw your head back, moaning softly, he knew you were close too. His fingers began rubbing your clit in faster and harder as he thrust quickly as fast as he could. Listening to the sound of you whimpering on a strangled gasp as he moved his hand to cover your mouth.

“That’s my girl, cum for me, cum all over me, baby.” you nodded, moaning loudly against his hand as you clamped down on your husband's cock. Your orgasm hits you hard, coating Nanami’s cock with your juices. Feeling you cumminf so hard left Nanami growling, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his thrusts less rhythmed as he fell over the edge following your orgasm. You could feel it as he came deep inside of you. But not once did his hips stop. They kept thrusting as your pussy milked me dry, making him spill his seed deep inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you, removing his hand from your mouth. The two of you lay there panting in the haze of our orgasms. After a few moments to breathe, Nanami looked at you, smirking as he kissed your lips gently, winning a kiss back from you.

“Welcome home,” you smiled, gently stroking his cheek. It looks like the honey worked.”

“Mhmm, you should order us some more.” He nuzzled your neck, winning a giggle from his wife.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You kissed his head as he rolled over, holding you in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Darling. God, I love you so much.” he whispered against your hair, inhaling the scent of your favorite shampoo. “I’m so happy to be home.” he muttered as you snuggled close to him. The two of you lay there in bliss before you finally fell asleep in his arms. Kento grinned, kissing your head before closing his eyes and following you into dreamland.

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU):

“Ehem!” your boyfriend groaned, clearing his throat for the thousandth time that morning. “Fuck, my throat is so scratchy.”

You gave him a smile as he drank some water. “ I told you screaming would hurt your throat.” Sukuna narrowed crimson eyes at you, but he didn’t argue because you had, in fact, warned him about that last night at the concert. “And just so you know, water isn’t going to help with that.” this time, your boyfriend scoffed, raising a pierced at you as he placed his glass down on the counter.

“Oh, and what makes you say that?”

“Because I am medically trained, " you said, placing the kettle on the stove and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “Hot tea will be better to ease that scratchy feeling.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

While the kettle was slowly heating up, you searched the pantry, grabbing a teabag and the honey. Only you found no honey left, well, not enough for honey tea. You would have to remember to add that to the list the next time you go to the grocery store. But luckily for you, you had luck at the bachelorette party you had gone to the weekend before. The entryway dug through your purse, pulling out the goodie bag you were given when you left. Of the goodie bag was a mixture of penis-shaped candy condoms that were too small for your boyfriend and a package of honey. Which you had assumed was reserved for food. But the food place would have to wait. Easing Sukuna’s discomfort was more important than pleasure.

When the kettle finally went off, whistling to let you know it was ready, you hurried back into the kitchen. Sukuna watched as he poured the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Let the tea steep for five minutes and then pour this into it,” you instructed, tossing the package at him.

“Honey pack?” Sukuna asked as he caught it with ease, reading the label. He turned it over, examining the contents before shrugging his shoulder. “Alright, whatever you say. You are the medically trained one.” you fought back a laugh as you leaned over the counter, pressing your lips against his. “Have a good day at work, oh-so-well-trained-one.”

“I will dork; I love you.”

“Ditto.”

When you made it to work, you gushed to your coworkers about the concert Sukuna had taken you to the night before. He somehow managed to get tickets to your favorite band and got you VIP seating. The night had been one of the best nights of your life. You both had gotten drunk and screamed to the songs at the top of your lungs before passing out back at his apartment. It has been so much fun and you would never forget it.

“You are so in love with him.” Your work Bestie laughed as you dreamily sighed, wishing the clock would move faster.

“I am; he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You were a second away from getting up to room a patient when you heard thundering footsteps approaching your desk. Quickly, looking over your shoulder, your manager and one of the receptionists approached you. You could tell there was something wrong from the panicked look on their faces.

You pushed away from your desk, pressing back the rising fear within you. “What happened?”

“Your boyfriend is here in the lobby. He’s asking for you, saying there’s an emergency. Grab your stuff and go. I’m going to clock you out,” your manager said as you began collecting your things.

You began running through the office, slamming the doors to the lobby open. Did something happen to his brothers? Was Yuuji okay at school? Or did something happen to Choso? There were so many different scenarios that could’ve happened. You need to get out of here fast. You picked up your pace bursting through the open door finding Sukuna waiting for you. His chest was rising and falling; his cheeks were slightly flushed as if he had run the entire way to your building. When those crimson eyes met yours, he moved, grabbed your hand, and tugged you out of the office.

You held onto him, running to keep up with his long strides. He didn’t say a word. Maybe he wanted to get to a more intimate place to tell you what was happening. When you made it into the parking garage, you saw his car waiting a few rows back. You quickly opened the front door to the passenger seat, but the door didn’t open entirely as Sukuna touched it, slamming it shut.

“Kuna?”

“Get in the back.”

His voice was hoarse and full of need. A raw need that had heat pooling between your thighs. “H-Huh?” your question went unanswered as his eyebrow twitched and evident frustration.

“I said get in the fucking backseat.” to emphasize his point, he opened the door to the back, pushing you towards it.

You quickly crawled into the backseat without any other swelling as you turned your head to look at him. He was even heavier than when he was in your office. His cheeks were a darker shade of red as he growled at the side of you, sprawled against his backseat. Your eyes down his body and find his gray sweats too tight around the crotch, and that source of the tightness twitched. Did he seriously pull you out of work because he was horny?!

“K-Kun—what the fuck is happening? My boss said it was an emergency.”

You scooted back, watching as Sukuna ducked his head, joining you in the backseat and slamming the door behind him. “What was I supposed to say? hey I need you to send my girlfriend home because my cock feels like it’s going to explode.” He reached for you, tugging your scrub pants down tossing them into car's front seat. “I don’t think she would’ve been so keen on you leaving for that reason.” your underwear was suddenly his next target as they were ripped off using all of his strength.

“W-What happened to you? You couldn’t help but giggle at the desperation in his movements. “I just left like an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, I started feeling fucking weird after you left.” He pulled his sweats down enough to free himself. His cock bounced, the tip leaking pre-cum as he pulled you into his lap, spitting into his hand, lubing up his cock. “It didn’t make a lot of sense as to why I felt so fucking horny until I put it together.”

Straddle his hips, gripping onto his shoulders. “And what did you manage to put together, Kuna?” he grabbed your hips, forcing you down onto him without so much as a warning, drawing out a gasp from you as he hissed.

“That Honey Pack you gave me is an aphrodisiac.”

Suddenly, it became very clear as to why they would include that in a goodie bag at a bachelorette party. Those thoughts,s however, were suddenly clouded with pleasure as Sukuna dug his fingers into your hips, beginning to jackhammer up into your dripping cunt. “Fuck!” You cried out, throwing your head back and leaving your neck exposed. Your boyfriend took the opportunity to bite into your neck with an almost feral snarl as his hips kept bucking up into you at a nearly inhuman speed. “O-Oh my god fuck!!”

“Mmphm~.” he pulled away, running his tongue over the Mark. He had left on your skin. The chill of his tongue piercing left you shivering above him on his lap. “You have no clue how hard it was for me to control myself, and I saw you running towards me back there. I nearly lost a little control. I had on myself and fucked you right there in the lobby.”

“O-Oooh, oooh nngh.”

Sukuna, even in his horny thoughts, felt you clench around him at his words. “Oh, what was that? Would you like that, you dirty fucking slut? Do you want me to fuck you in public in front of all your coworkers? Then they would know you aren't this innocent little medical assistant. They would know you’re my dirty fucking slut.” you clenched harder around him. “Oh my God, you would like that!”

“K-Kuna!”

“That’s not an answer,” he growled, fisting your hair, yanking your head to the side, exposing the other side of your neck. “Use your words Kitten.” his teeth sank into the other side of your neck as he bullied his cock deeper inside of you, rubbing the tip greedily against your cervix in an almost painful way, but the pleasure overwhelmed the pain.

“Yes!! Yes, I want that! I want you!”

Hearing you say that caused the last cord of strength in Sukuna to snap. He moved with a certain despite being cramped in the back of his car. Your back hit the seat, knocking the air out of your lungs as the head of his cock slammed against your cervix harder. When you looked up at him, you whimpered. Something instinctual told you to submit to the much larger predator above you. Your body wanted it to give into him, allowing him to have his way with you.

Sukuna growled, his pierced tongue slowly over his bottom lip as those dark, lust-filled eyes watched you tremble underneath him. He had to have you. And every way he possibly could. Sukuna pulled out, groaning at the feeling of your inner walls, attempting to prevent him from leaving, but they didn’t need to try to stop him because he had no intention of pulling out.

“My dirty slut.” Sukuna growled as he slammed back into using all of his strength. “Wantk g fuck him in front of your coworkers in front of a bunch of strangers.” he leaned over you, pressing his lips against yours. “Even if that were something you would want, I would never do that. Because I would kill anyone who looked at you like that.”

“N-Nnngh—oh—fuck!”

Your wall squeezed around him hugging his cock tight. “Are you squeezing down on me because it turns you on to know how I’m so possessive over you?” you weakly nodded, crying out softly as you tried and failed to kiss him. Your moans are spilling out, preventing you from moving your lips against his and the way you wanted. “Awe, Kitten~ you can’t even talk because you’re feeling so good.” another nod. “Haah~ such a good girl for me just lay back and feel good while I use your pussy okay?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the powerful thrusts that came next. Sukuna grabbed your hips, holding them down as he fucked into you like you were a flashlight. The car rocked with each slam of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin was almost as loud as the growls and moans that sounded from you both. Sweat coated your low, lower body as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your boyfriend could feel it, too. Feel the way your nails dug into his forearms, how you’re pretty legs trembled with your building orgasm. He watched you slowly coming undone, and that sight only pressed him to go further.

All of his control vanished as he fucked into you like he hated you. “K-Kuna!” You screamed, eyes watering as he reached up, choking your eyes, shutting tight. “G-Gonna—oh fuck I-I’m gonna!” Sukuna's thumb found your clit rubbing it, giving you that final push you were needing.

“Then fucking cum Kitten~”

You came hard and fast. The pleasure hitting you in the most wonderful way. Sukuna watched from above, grunting at the feeling of you squirting all over his cock. That sensation had him lurching forward as his own orgasm hit him. His cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as he came. Your mouth fell at the feeling of his cum filling you. It was so warm, and you hummed happily, giggling as Sukuna fell on top of you, peppering your face with kisses.

“Uuugh.”

“Uugh?” You laughed breathlessly, your fingers tracing over the tattoos that were etched into his face. “That’s a first.”

“Y-Yeah fuck whatever, we need to hurry.” He whispered affectionately against your kiss-swollen lips. “G-Gonna be hard again. We need to get home.”

“Oh? Really what-aahnn—” Your question was lost with a moan as Sukuna grabbed your earlobe, tugging it roughly, teasing your weak spot. “Fuck!”

“I plan on taking you home and fucking until both of us pass out or whenever my dick stops working.” you know damn well he meant every single word. “You wanted to take such good care of me this morning. You still can. But I don’t need you to make me tea. I need to fuck you in every way I can.” You moaned, squirming in anticipation of what was to come when you got home. “But before we get home and start our fuck-fest, I need you to do something for me when we get home.”

“What do you need, Ku-nnngh!” his lips sealed around your ear, gently sucking and kissing on it.“Holy fuckin’ fuck!”

“I need you to order us some more of this honey~” he didn’t need to tell you twice. You proudly subscribe to the monthly subscription box. Because having him lose all of his composure was something you definitely wanted to experience again and again.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks

[flowersforbucky]

by the end of the night

logan howlett x reader - 7.2k words

summary: reader is a mutant with emotional regulation and healing powers, who frequently helps logan through nightmares - without him even knowing. what happens one night when he wakes to find you in his room?

warnings: 18+only mdni, smut, ptsd, nightmares, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, pet names, language, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly angst but mostly fluff! implied age gap as logan calls reader "kid" but reader is 21+

a/n: written with worst!logan in mind. reader lives in the x-mansion and is a long time friend of wade's who let's logan, laura and wade move in when al's place gets too cramped.

follow @flowersforbuckyfics & turn on notifications to stay updated ♡

You had lost track of how long you had been standing under the hot, harsh stream of the showerhead. You had yet to wash your hair or scrub the sweat and grime from your skin, allowing yourself the well-earned luxury of letting the water beat down on the aching muscles of your back while you rest your forehead against the emerald colored porcelain tiles. By the time you've finally finished rinsing the last two days down the drain, the water runs cold.

You secure a towel around your midsection and swipe the side of your hand across the foggy bathroom mirror to take in your appearance. Hollow, peaked eyes and more fine lines than usual - you definitely need the full twelve hours of sleep that calls your name.

You brush your teeth with one hand and pick up your phone with the other, checking the time - 11:22 pm. You probably have a few hours to get some shut eye before –

A distinct, deep roar interrupts the midnight silence and echoes off the walls of the mansion, startling you. Your phone falls out of your hand, bouncing off of the linoleum flooring.

Before that.

It would be your luck for it to happen hours earlier than usual tonight, of all nights. When you’ve just got off of a seven hour flight from Ontario, after two days of helping people who had been wounded in severe flash floods. Not only healing their physical injuries, but calming their nerves with your powers. And, of course, when you’re fresh out of a shower, naked except for the large, white fabric that covers the middle part of your body.

You don't even bother to pick your phone up before you're stepping out of the bathroom, clutching the towel to your chest. The door to the room directly across the hallway opens, revealing a wide-eyed Laura, donning pajamas and sleep-ruffled hair.

“You're back,” she exhales. The relief she feels at the realization that you're home radiates from her from across the hallway. “Good. Last night was–”

Another guttural yell pierces the air, silencing her.

“I can imagine,” you sigh, staring in the direction of Logan's room. “I'll take care of him,” you assure her, knowing all too well how badly she worries for him every night. “Get some sleep,” you tell her gently. You start to walk toward the sound of his pained cries, when Laura calls your name. You look back at her over your shoulder.

“You're.. only wearing a towel,” she states softly. You glance down, pulling the towel even tighter around yourself. Your bedroom is just on the opposite end of the hallway, but by the time you dress yourself and make it back to Logan’s room, he could hurt himself.

“I’ve been helping him without waking him up for months now,” you remind her. “Let’s just cross our fingers that this time isn’t any different.” She gives you an uncertain nod, and reluctantly retreats back into her room.

You proceed towards Logan's door, turning the handle as quietly as you can. Thankfully, he never locks it. You're good with picking locks, but it's not something you want to waste time with in these instances.

Your heart cracks and simultaneously sinks to your stomach as you click the door shut behind you. He's visible in the pale yellow glow of an old table lamp that he’d left on.

You don't think that seeing him like this will ever get easier - so helpless and vulnerable, not in control of his own mind or body. Before you've even reached his bedside, you're hit with a ripple of panic and despair. You may not be able to see the visions that torment his mind, but his emotions that wash into you paint a vivid enough picture.

He lays flat on his back, his arms at his sides with his fully-extended claws sunk into the fitted sheet and his comforter thrown onto the floor next to the bed. You briefly wonder how many sets of sheets he has had to toss out and replace in the last few months.

His head jerks violently from side to side, as if he’s trying to get away from something that you’re unable to see. “No, no, no,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

You’re silent. It’s best this way - you, Wade, and Laura all agree on this. Everyone who has slept within the same building as Logan is privy to the nightmares that plague him, and the three of you agree that the best way to help him is without him knowing about it. As if the man isn’t already riddled with enough self-loathing for things that had happened in another timeline, the last thing he needs is to feel guilty and embarrassed for waking up his closest friends and loved ones nearly every night. So, as badly as you’d like to comfort him with your words and tell him that he’s okay, he’s safe, he’s just having a bad dream and he’s here in the mansion with you, and Laura, Wade, and the rest of your friends - you don’t.

Instead, you slowly bring your palm to his bicep, mentally conjuring the essence of your powers to flow through your skin and into his body. You feel the surge as the energy breaks through the barrier of your palm and begins to radiate across the flesh of Logan's exposed arm. Usually, he begins to still right away - the loud, angry yelling will dwindle to pained moans that soon cease to silence as he slips back into a calm and dreamless sleep.

This time, however, the groans don't quiet and the sharp thrashes don't still. Your brows furrow together in concentration, forcing more of your energy into his being.

He yells out something unintelligible, digging his claws deeper into the mattress, stuffing falling out around his hands. You try not to panic, growing increasingly confused as to why your powers don't seem to be helping. It's never taken this long to calm him. Normally, placing one hand on him is enough to ease his mind.

His skin is clammy and flushed beet red with thick beads of sweat forming across his forehead and neck. Knowing that you need to force more of your energy upon him, you lean against the edge of his bed so that you can reach across him and place your free hand on his opposite bicep. Just as your palm is about to make contact with his skin, his eyes shoot open.

You yank your hands away from his body, prepared to step back and give him space when he quickly raises off his pillow, his right hand darting towards your face. You instinctively flinch away as the tip of the metal talon between his index and middle finger lands directly across the pulse point of your throat. Your breath hitches in your throat, completely opposite of how his chest heaves up and down with ragged breaths. You're frozen beneath his claws as you wait for him to take in the scene before him.

“You're okay,” you manage to squeak out. “You were having–”

“What the fuck,” he grumbles, his voice raspy from yelling. His eyes dart from your face down to your lower half, lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he takes in your current attire - or lack thereof. His eyebrow shoots up in confusion and he retracts his claws back inside his hands.

“I had just got out of the shower when I heard you yelling.” The words spew out of your mouth like vomit. His gaze moves from you to his mattress, noticing all of the foam that he had ripped out while unconscious. “I was just trying to–”

“Trying to what?” he snaps, interrupting you again. He looks back at you, a mixture of anger and frustration now blooming on his features. “Get your jugular sliced? What were you thinking?” His words are laced with a venom that you've heard directed at Wade many times over the course of the last few months when they're at each other's throats over God knows what - but never, ever has that tone been directed towards you.

“I was thinking that you were screaming loudly enough to wake the whole mansion,” you bite back, crossing your arms over your chest. His harsh stare makes you feel even more exposed than you are. You can tell that your words hit a nerve by the way that he purses his lips together.

“I'm sorry for disturbing the peace, kid,” he spits with a sarcastic huff. The condescending pet name makes your blood boil. “If it happens again, save yourself the hassle and send Wade to risk getting stabbed.”

“It's not a hassle–” you start and then throw your hands up in surrender. It's late, and you're exhausted, and you don't trust yourself to not throw it in his face that it's you who has been soothing him through these nightmares for the last three months, not Wade, and nevermind the fact that you have regenerative powers too, so even if he accidentally did stab you -

He's looking at you expectantly in the thick silence.

“You know what? You’re right,” you give an exasperated shrug, trying to keep your voice even so it isn't obvious that his reaction has hurt your feelings. “It won't happen again.”

He looks as if he’s going to speak, but you are already turning on your heel and stomping out of his room, slamming his door closed behind you.

You retrieve your cell phone from the bathroom floor and start to head to your room, when Laura peeks her head out of her doorway. You pause, quickly trying to conceal any signs of frustration from your expression.

Given the look on her face, you can tell that she overheard the interaction.

“He's just embarrassed,” she whispers sympathetically. You're hit with a wave of her emotions - worry, helplessness, uncertainty. You don't mean to pry. In fact, you usually do everything in your power to keep other's emotions out, but sometimes people feel so many things at once that those feelings just pour into you against your will. “He’s doesn't know how to accept help without feeling like a bur-”

“It’s okay, Laura,” you interrupt her softly. “We knew this is how he would react.”

“I could try to talk to him about it,” she offers, leaning against the doorframe. “Once he calms down some. Explain how you've helped–”

“You don't have to do that,” you assure her. You don't know why it was so difficult to settle Logan's nightmare tonight, or why he woke up this time after months of successfully soothing him, but despite his harsh reaction and telling him that it wouldn't happen again, you were still hopeful that you'd be able to continue to help him. You also wanted to save him the further embarrassment of knowing that this was far from the first occurrence.

“Let's just call it a night and I'll deal with it tomorrow, okay?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but you end the conversation with a quick goodnight and hurry onto your room.

Behind the confines of your bedroom walls, you unhook the towel from around your chest and let it drop to the floor before belly-flopping onto the cool velvet fabric of your duvet. You release a muffled groan into the bed before rolling over and staring up at your ceiling. You hope that no one needs you for the duration of the night, because you are too physically exhausted to walk five feet away to get pajamas from your dresser.

Despite feeling frustrated and hurt at how the interaction with Logan had just gone, you worry for him. You worry that he'll have another nightmare tonight, or that he'll keep himself awake out of fear that he'll have another one. You worry that the friendship that you've developed over the course of the last few months will be affected by tonight's encounter, and as silly as it may be - you worry that he'll feel weird around you after waking up to find you in his bedroom in only a towel in the middle of the night.

The last thing you remember thinking before finally falling asleep is that you wish you could use your powers on yourself to ease your own anxiety.

••••••

The next morning, you smell coffee and hints of vanilla and cinnamon before you're halfway to the kitchen.

This is surprising to you for two reasons - one being that you're typically the one who brews the coffee and starts breakfast. Two being that you expected an empty house this morning. Colossus is usually out with the trainees on Friday mornings, and Wade had told you right before you left for Ontario a few days ago that he, Laura and Logan would be visiting their old roommate - Althea, or Blind Al, as Wade so lovingly calls her - today.

You come to a halt when you enter the kitchen and see who's responsible for the aroma.

With his back turned to you as he pulls a dish out of the oven, you instinctively pull the plush robe that you wear tighter around you as you are hit with the memory of what you wore in his bedroom last night all over again.

“Good morning,” you greet him in a neutral tone as you pull your favorite mug from the cabinet. “Smells good,” you add lightheartedly, not looking in his direction as you pour yourself some coffee.

“Yeah, well,” Logan starts with an awkward clear of his throat. “They're for you.”

Your head snaps to where he's leaning against the kitchen island, next to a circular glass dish filled with fresh cinnamon rolls. It's not as if it's some grand declaration of love - but it turns your stomach into a butterfly garden all the same.

“They're just from a can,” he shrugs, staring down at the pastries to avoid your gaze that's now locked on him. “Probably can't compare to the ones you bake from scratch. It's definitely no steak and eggs like you made for us last weekend–”

“Thank you,” you interrupt him to stop his rambling. You don't need to seek his emotions to know that he is nervous - it's apparent in both his voice and his posture. In fact, you don't think you've seen Logan as visibly on edge since you met him. “This is very thoughtful of you. I woke up starving this morning.”

“I figured you would be after your late night.” He opens a cabinet and pulls out two small plates. “And I just wanted to apologize for.. that.” Waves of embarrassment wash from where he stands just a few feet from you.

You take a step closer to him as he extends a plate to you. “You don't have to apologize, Logan,” you assure him in a gentle voice as you accept the ceramic plate and turn back to the cinnamon rolls. “There's nothing to be sorry for.”

“There is, though. You were only trying to help me and I snapped at you. You didn't deserve that, sweetheart.”

“Well, no,” you shrug with a mouthful of bread and icing, hoping that he couldn’t detect the way your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “I didn’t. But you were startled, and confused. You woke up from a horrible nightmare and the first thing you saw was me hovering over you. I don’t blame you for reacting poorly.”

He takes a step closer to you, digging into the dish to serve himself. There's still mild undertones of embarrassment breaking through the barrier of his emotions, but the main thing that you're feeling from him is relief.

“I talked to Laura before she left this morning,” he says with a fresh hint of nervousness. “She told me what you've been doing for me for the last few months,” he confesses, pausing for your response. You would feel nervous yourself, if it weren't for your ability to know that he isn't feeling any kind of anger.

You're surprisingly relieved that Laura had filled him in on what had become your nightly routine. You knew from the beginning that it was only a matter of how and when he'd realize what was going on. You didn’t like feeling like you were hiding something so intimate from him.

“I'm sorry we didn't tell you,” you sigh. “We just.. didn't want you to feel bad. And we were worried that you would–”

“React exactly how I did?”

You exhale a small laugh through your nose. “Yeah,” you admit. “Something like that.”

“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. For all of it. For waking you up every night, for snapping at you, for–”

“Logan, really,” you stop him, setting your cup of coffee down to bring your hand to where his is gripping onto the edge of the marble countertop. You give it a reassuring squeeze, and don't pull away as you look up at him. “Please don't apologize. I wanted to help you. It's what people do when they care about you, you know? And you deserve a peaceful night's sleep as much as the rest of us do.”

“If you won't let me apologize, will you at least let me say thank you?”

You smile up at him, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his. You can't help but notice a small note of disappointment emanating from him when your skin breaks contact with him.

“You don't need to thank me either, but..” you hesitate, suddenly feeling a pit of anxiousness in your stomach at what you're about to ask him next. “Now that you know what's been going on the last few months, maybe there’s something you'd be willing to let me try?”

“And what would that be, sweetheart?”

••••••

Later that evening, after the sun has set and your friends have all retired to their private spaces for the night, you make your way to Logan's bedroom under much different circumstances than the previous night.

Tonight, if all goes well, you won't have to worry about startling him from a night terror ridden slumber. Tonight, you are going to attempt to prevent the bad dreams before they can begin tormenting him in the first place.

You were pleasantly surprised when he agreed to your idea as soon as you suggested it. You expected him to reject the offer of help - as he is so naturally prone to doing. You thought that you'd have to try to convince him that he's worthy of this effort. Although he seemed uncertain that this would work, he was willing to give it a shot because he trusts you.

You hesitate for a moment before working up the courage to give a soft knock to his bedroom door. He opens up almost instantly, revealing himself in dark gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt with hair that still glistens wet from a recent shower.

You'd be lying if you said the sight didn't make your stomach do somersaults, but you quickly clear your throat, reminding yourself why you're here.

He seems to take in your appearance, too - his eyes trailing from your painted white toenails that peak out from your fuzzy slippers and up to your matching black pajama shorts and tank top.

“Well, you look quite a bit different than you did the last time you were here,” he observes with the kind of smile that brings out the laugh lines around his eyes. He opens the door further, allowing you to walk past him and into the cozy yet minimally decorated space.

“Thought I'd spare you the shock of the towel this time,” you retort, your cheeks heating at the memory. He closes the door behind him and follows you into the room. “So uh, how exactly are you proposing that we go about this?”

You take in the state of his bed - you would never guess that his claws had shredded multiple large gashes down it less than twenty-four hours ago. He must have flipped it over and hoped for the best. You take an apprehensive seat on the edge of the mattress, nervously wringing your hands together.

“Well,” you begin as he takes a seat next to you at the end of the bed. His body is angled so that his knee brushes the skin of yours ever so lightly. “Last night proved that for whatever reason, your nightmares are becoming harder for me to get under control. Maybe with my powers, I can help you relax enough so that you don’t have those kinds of dreams at all.”

You can’t help but doubt yourself - you’ve never done anything like this before, and you truly have no idea if it will be effective. You’re worried that you’ll disappoint yourself and Logan both. Earlier, he seemed apprehensive, too - but sitting here with him now, you’re not feeling any sense of uncertainty from him. Only from yourself.

As if he can feel your hesitation, he takes your hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Just tell me whatever you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

You nod, pushing down the feelings that flood through you at the knowledge that not only does he trust you, but he believes in you - enough to help him with such a vulnerable part of himself.

“Okay,” you say, reluctantly pulling your hand from him as you begin to scoot up his bed, so that you’re in the middle of the mattress. You cross your legs at the ankles, and motion for him to follow your lead. He moves to sit directly in front of you, copying your position and sitting so that both of his knees touch yours. You hold out your hands, palms up, and he takes them in his own. You can’t help but think that if any of your friends were to walk in, it would look like the two of you were performing a seance.

“We can stop anytime that you want to,” you remind him. “If at any point you’re uncomfortable and you want to stop, just say the word.” He gives you a small nod and another reassuring squeeze to each hand as your sign to continue.

“I’d like you to start by thinking of whatever it is that you’ve been seeing in your nightmares. You don’t have to talk about it,” you assure him quickly when you feel a spark of anxiety flicker where your hands rest in his. You notice that his jaw clenches at the notion of dwelling on what torments him in his sleep. “Just replay some key images in your head, and leave the rest to me. I’m going to read your emotions and attempt to use my powers to alter them to something more positive. It may take a few sessions of practicing this for it to be effective, but I’m hopeful that we can train your brain to not panic at what you’re seeing in your nightmares.” You pause, giving him a chance to ask questions - or tell you to get lost and forget it.

“Replace panic with peace. Got it.”

“Close your eyes,” you instruct him gently. He obeys without hesitation, though you can't help but notice the small surge of unease that begins to flow from his palms into yours. You counteract the feeling right away, sending back a wave of calm in its place. You watch as he unclenches his jaw and unforrows his brows - a clear indication that he's feeling the energy that you're emitting.

“Now think about your nightmares. Start with your most recent one. Try to remember as many details as possible. I'll be right here, holding your hand and helping you through it,” you encourage him in a soft voice, tightening your hold on his hands.

You begin to release a slow, steady stream of tranquility that flows from your fingertips and into his body. You know that he's doing as you have asked him to do - you can tell he's replaying the images of his latest nightmare by the way it feels as if something is pushing back against your powers.

Guilt, fear, and hopelessness - all push back against their counterparts that you try to instill in him. He grips your hands tighter, the hold on them borderline uncomfortable, but you keep still and allow him to anchor himself to you.

You find yourself thankful that you can't physically see the images that he's working through. The negative emotions that accompany the thoughts is enough for you to know that whatever he's seeing, it's far from pretty.

“You're doing good, Logan,” you offer in a small whisper. You're not even sure if he hears you - he's focused, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. You send a more powerful wave of energy to him and watch as his shoulders slouch in relaxation. You can still feel the pain that radiates beneath your power as it flows through his being - but it’s dull; muted.

“We’re going to switch it up now,” you say louder. “I’m going to continue exactly what I’m doing, but instead of thinking of your nightmares, I want you to think of something happy. Your favorite place, your friends, a good memory - anything that makes you happy.”

His eyes stay closed, but he gives a small nod of his head to let you know that he’s hearing you.

There’s a noticeable shift in the emotional energy that courses through him. His fear fades to joy, dread is replaced with hope. With the positive emotions being amplified by your powers, a faint smile grows across his face and a hint of rosy pink blooms on the apples of his cheeks. Now, you wish you could see whatever it is he's thinking of.

You can't help the smile that forms on your own face, soaking in the moment where he's possibly the most carefree that you've ever seen him.

“I'm going to pull away now,” you tell him gently. You feel a pang of disappointment - it's hard to tell who it comes from. His feelings have bled so thoroughly into your own.

You slowly pull your hands away from his and his eyes snap open at the loss of your emotional influence.

“What do you think?” You almost ask him how he feels - but you stop yourself, already knowing the answer to that.

“I think that you're fucking incredible,” he answers bluntly, his hazel eyes staring at you in awe. You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment, hoping that he didn't hear the way your heart all but stopped in your chest. “I've never felt anything quite like that. Even if I do still have a nightmare tonight.. It was nice to feel so at peace, even just temporarily.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his words. “It’s okay if it doesn't work,” you tell him. “We can try again tomorrow. And I'll be right down the hall if you need me tonight. Okay?” You uncross your legs, hopping off of his bed. You start to wish him goodnight when he grabs your hand in his once more. It feels different than just a moment ago - more intimate.

“Thank you,” he tells you before reluctantly dropping your hand. “For doing this for me - for trying.”

“Of course,” you murmur. You feel lightheaded - you don’t know if it’s from exerting so much of your powers, his words, or the feeling of his hand in yours, but the air in his room feels suffocating and your skin feels flushed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

You give him a soft smile, and then dash out of his room before he can say anything else, closing his door behind you.

After you’ve power walked back to your own room, you spend a while decompressing before even trying to fall asleep - Logan’s words, feelings, and touch replaying through your mind on an infinite loop.

You don’t know exactly how long you spend tossing and turning beneath your sheets before your brain finally gives into sleep. When you wake up, you’re not sure what time it is - your room is dark except for the moonlight that trickles in through your window. You sit up and look around your room, confused as to what woke you up in the first place when a gentle knock sounds from the other side of your door. The soft call of your name from a voice that you recognize right away has you throwing your covers back and all but jumping out of your bed to go open your door.

“Logan,” you exhale in a sleep-ridden voice, eyeing him from head to toe as if to make sure he’s okay. He stands before you in the same sweatpants and t-shirt as earlier, though his hair looks far more ruffled than when you saw him just before bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you wake up. I'm normally a light sleep–”

“I think what we did earlier is helping,” he interrupts you. That's when you notice it - there's no fear radiating from him. Instead, you feel a prickle of hope. “I did start to have a nightmare,” he continues. “But I didn't… I didn't feel trapped in it. I was able to pull myself out of it before it escalated.”

You take a step forward, raising your arms to him and pulling him towards you by his shoulders. It takes him a second to process what is happening, but then he wraps his arms around your waist and returns your embrace in a tight hold, nearly lifting you off the ground.

“That's amazing, Logan. I'm so glad,” you murmur next to his ear. You don't even care that it's the middle of the night. After how many times you've woken up to the sound of his tortured screams, you're happy to instead wake up to him standing at your bedroom door with good news.

He pulls his head back enough to look down at you, but doesn't release his hold around you. Your face is so close to his that you can make out your reflection in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for a split-second before his voice snaps you back to reality.

“I'm sorry,” he says, suddenly overcome with a rush of embarrassment. “I shouldn't have woken you up for that,” he all but whispers. “I was just having a hard time falling back asleep and I selfishly wanted to see–”

“Do you want to come lie down with me?”

You can tell the question takes him by surprise. His hazel eyes widen and you can feel the shock that surges through him at the proposal. “No big deal if not,” you add quickly. “I could try to help you fall back asleep.”

His hold on you tightens, and you're hit with a wave of different emotions that answer before he can reply.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he grins down at you. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Before your nerves can get the better of you, you grab him by the hand and pull him through the doorway. He pulls it shut on his way in - the click of the bolt making reality set in.

You don't let go of his hand as you guide him to your bed through the darkness of your room. You crawl onto the mattress and scoot to the opposite side, letting him take the spot where you'd previously been asleep. You hold your comforter open for him as he crawls in next to you. Your king size bed, which normally feels ginormous with only you to occupy it, suddenly feels less than half its actual size. He's not even touching you and you can feel the heat radiate from Logan's body underneath the blanket that you now share.

You're torn. On one hand, you want nothing more than to sink into that warmth and feel him pressed against you as you lull him back to sleep. On the other hand, you don't want to cross any boundaries that can't be uncrossed.

“How do you want me?”

Goddamn. As if your heart isn't already beating a mile a minute, he has to phrase it like that?

You turn away from him, hoping you won’t be able to smell the intoxicating hints of his Old Spice deodorant if you face the opposite direction of him.

“However you're comfortable,” you whisper to conceal any strain in your voice. “Just give me your hand,” you instruct as you reach a hand over your side to where he's nestled behind you. He rolls onto his side so that his chest is a mere few inches from pressing against your back. His large hand clasps around yours.

Forget skipping a beat - your heart all but stops in your chest at what washes over you.

It's faint - as if he's trying his hardest to push it down so that you won't realize that it's there.

Longing.

He exhales, his breath fanning across the exposed skin of your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I thought of you, you know.”

“What?” You lift your head off of the pillow, turning back to look at him in the illumination of the full moon that pours into your room from your open curtains. His face is just inches away from yours from where he lays behind you. “What do you mean?”

“When you asked me to think of something that makes me happy. Every happy memory that flashed through my mind, they were all from the last few months. And they all involved you.” He pauses, rubbing circles across the side of your hand with his thumb.

Longing. Desire. Yearning. They all bubble over and bleed together - his, and your own.

“I thought of the first time we showed up here and you took us in with open arms. I thought of the time I walked into the living room to find you teaching Laura to braid her hair.. and all of the times that you've cooked for us. I could've picked any moment, really. Any moment with you since I met you would've worked.”

“Logan,” you breathe in an almost whiney voice. “Logan, I–”

“Tell me how I'm feeling right now, sweetheart.”

You turn over to your other side so that you're facing him. You prop your head up in one hand, and bring your other to his face that still rests on your pillow. You cradle his jaw in your palm, grazing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb.

“You feel the same way that I do.”

You're not sure if you lean down to him, or if he raises his head to meet yours - all you know is that his lips are moving with yours and his hand is on your lower back, pulling you flush against him and closing what little space is left between your bodies.

He kisses you hungrily, a mess of tongue and teeth that makes your brain turn to static. His beard and mustache tickles the soft skin of your face in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more.

He hooks his hand under the curve of your ass and hikes your thigh over his own, maneuvering you over his body while keeping his lips locked with yours. With both of his hands planted firmly on your hips, you're now straddling him and feel the evident bulge of an erection through the thin material of his sweatpants and your pajama shorts.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you wanting and breathless above him.

“We can stop right now, if that's what you want,” he whispers - his voice sounds strained, as if the thought alone pains him. “We don't have to go any fur–”

“I don't want to stop.” And to reinforce that sentiment, you grind your core down against his hard length. He releases a noise that’s akin to a growl, sounding from deep in his chest. He grabs you by the shoulders as he raises off of the pillow, shooting into a sitting position and crushing his lips to yours again.

Even with you straddling his lap and your tongues taking turns exploring each other's mouths, you still need him closer - need to feel more of him. You snake your hands between your bodies, gripping onto the hem of his t-shirt and tugging upwards. You break your lips away from his to pull the fabric over his head. As soon as you've tossed the shirt across the room, he's copying the exact motions on you, discarding your tank top.

He grasps a breast in one hand, roughly palming it as he takes the other in his mouth. He tugs your nipple between his teeth, hardening it before soothing it over with his tongue. You encourage him with soft rolls of your hips over the bulge in his pants.

Logan lifts you off of his lap, flipping the two of you over so that you now lay flat against the mattress, underneath him. He hooks his fingers into both the waistband of your pajama bottoms and panties and begins to ease them down your thighs.

“Gotta get you out of these little shorts,” he murmurs, pulling them over your ankles and leaving you completely bare for him.

“Logan, please,” you whimper. You don't even quite know what you're begging for - but he does. He reads you like an open book.

“I know, sweetheart. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

His words send an intense gush of arousal to your core. He pushes your thighs apart at the knees and nestles himself between them, bringing his face level with your pussy.

Your hands fly to his head as his tongue makes contact with your clit. You weave your fingers through the short tufts of his hair, clenching your thighs around the sides of his head as he works the swollen nub with his mouth.

He licks lazy strips from your clit down to your hole and then brings his middle finger to your entrance, swirling it around in your slick before easing it inside you. He groans at your taste and the feeling of your walls constricting around his finger, sending vibrations through your body.

He increases the speed at which he pumps his long finger into your cunt, each time drawing a more sinful moan from you. You buck your hips to meet the thrusts of his finger, chasing the building warmth in your lower belly as it builds and builds.

His tongue laps through your folds and he adds a second finger to his movements. Maybe it's due to the fact that you can feel waves of his arousal in addition to your own and it's amplifying your pleasure, or maybe he's just that fucking good with his fingers and tongue - but you can feel yourself soaking the sheets beneath you. The room is filled with the wet echoes of your walls gushing around his fingers in the silence of the night, and you find yourself thankful that there's several empty rooms in between yours and the other people that you share this mansion with.

He brings his free hand up to your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers and it sends you crashing around him. The white hot coil in your belly snaps and you cum around his face with a low cry of his name.

He sits up on his knees when you've stopped writhing above him, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. He pumps his length in his hand that's soaked with your juices, lubricating himself with your essence before he's even inside you.

“Sweet girl,” he coos as he stares down at you in the limited view of the moonlight. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Hovering above you, he props himself up on his forearm and brings his free hand to your chin, tugging on your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Feeling drunk in your post-orgasm haze, you don't hesitate to do exactly as he asks of you. You eagerly part your lips wide for him and he hums in satisfaction before releasing a thick drop of his spit from his mouth into yours. It falls on your tongue and you close your mouth, reveling in the flavor of your juices mixed with the flavor of him. You groan at the taste and pull him back down to you by the back of his neck, molding your lips to his.

His cock juts against your folds, torturously teasing you before finally sinking his head past your entrance. You gasp into the kiss as he buries himself to the hilt, stilling momentarily to let you adjust to his size.

“Fuck, Logan,” you groan into his mouth when he begins to move again, pulling half of his length out before easing back in at a steady pace. “So big. Don't know if I can–”

“You can,” he interrupts, and to prove his point he fills you all the way up again. His head rams against your cervix and takes your breath away. “See? You're doing such a good job, honey.”

You've never felt so full before. You swear you can feel him in your stomach. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly as you acclimate to the fullness of him. He kisses you through it, drinking in each whimper and moan that he draws from you.

“So tight and wet for me,” he grunts when he pulls away from your mouth. He brings one of his hands down to where your body meets his, placing his thumb directly over your swollen clit and begins to rub you with fast, pressured circles that have your cunt clenching around him.

“Close,” you grunt out in between moans of his name. “I'm so close.” He rocks into you harder, making you see stars when he hits that sweet spot just right.

“Gonna cum around my cock?” He mutters between gritted teeth as your walls flutter around him. “Yeah, you are. I can feel it.”

His thrusts become erratic and you know he's right behind you. A few more hard thrusts that have your headboard slamming against the wall and you're cumming around him as he spills into you.

He goes still inside you as you both regain a normal pattern of breathing. He gives you one, two, three wet, open-mouth kisses down your throat before pulling out of you. You whimper at the sudden lack of fullness, already missing the way he fits inside you.

He flops down beside you on the mattress and tugs you into his side, your head coming to rest just above his rapidly beating heart.

“I think I should be able to sleep just fine after that,” he exhales. He trails his fingertips down the exposed skin of your arm. You grab his other hand in yours and pull it up to your mouth, where you plant kisses on each of his knuckles.

“Probably,” you whisper with a laugh. “I think you should probably stay here with me, though. Just in case.” You don't have to look up to know that he's smirking down at you - you can tell by the way he's feeling.

Light. Carefree. Happy. Loved.

“I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thanks for reading!!! as always comments & reblogs are so appreciated 🫶🏻

[reidmarieprentiss]

Red: Part Two

Summary: Spencer is very happy with you, his new girlfriend. You two are experiencing firsts together, making each other happy as can be. But, secrets tend to unravel when you try to keep them from your loved ones. Your past haunts you everyday, Spencer knows that, and yet, he does nothing to let you into his. Falling in love is not for the weak. Neither is being forced out of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: heartbreak, angst, talks of drug use, talks of overdose, past death of parents, sister is an addict, keeping secrets, so much angst, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, Spencer's past addiction, drug tests, protective Erin Strauss, weed, alcohol, no happy ending

Word count: 28.9k

a/n: soooo fucking sorry for this one ://// it was never going to have a happy ending ... tbh if you don't want to cry maybe just stick to the first part !! — unedited NEVER be afraid to call me out!!

can't lie i put so many projects on hold just to write this beast -- i worked on it EVERY day

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (f & m), grinding, finishing in pants (m), fingering (f), protected PinV

The entire jet was filled with a quiet buzz of curiosity as everyone watched Spencer, who was completely absorbed in his phone, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips. His eyes rolled over the screen, scanning a picture he took of you with a level of care that had the whole team captivated.

JJ finally broke the silence. “Okay, Reid,” she said with an amused grin, leaning forward in her seat. “Tell us what’s going on, or I’m taking your phone.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden attention. His cheeks flushed pink as he realized the entire team had been watching him, all waiting for an explanation. He fumbled with the phone, quickly pocketing it as if trying to hide something, but the grin on his face gave him away. 

"Uh, it’s nothing," Spencer mumbled, clearly flustered, but the team wasn’t buying it for a second.

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, come on, Pretty Boy. This has gone on long enough. Spill."

JJ raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Prentiss. "We’ve all seen that look before, Reid."

Spencer sighed. "It’s… it’s someone I’ve been seeing," he admitted sheepishly, his eyes flicking down to his phone for a moment before looking back at the team.

The jet erupted with teasing laughter and questions, all of them delighted by the revelation.

“Well, Reid, you have to introduce us!” Emily chimed in, a playful grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy," Derek added with a teasing smirk. "When can we meet the missus?”

Spencer, for once, didn’t shy away from the idea. In fact, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of introducing you to the team. He was proud that you were his girlfriend, and the idea of his closest friends meeting you didn’t fill him with the usual nerves. But there was one thing Spencer couldn’t deny—he knew the moment they saw the way he looked at you, they’d instantly know how deeply in love he was. 

And as much as he was ready for the team to meet you, that kind of vulnerability scared him just a little. 

He smiled softly, trying to play it cool. "I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough," he said, but inside, he was already thinking about how perfect it would be to bring you into his world.

—

“Y/N, darling,” Spencer mused with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling as he watched you across the dinner table. The warmth in his voice instantly caught your attention.

You giggled, squeezing his hand as it rested on the table, your thumb brushing against his skin. “Yes, dear?”

Spencer hesitated only for a second, his tone still light but a little more serious now. “Would you like to meet my friends?”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat at the question. A slight anxiety began to crawl up your throat, and you cleared it, trying to sound casual. “Your—um, your work friends?” you asked, though the weight of the moment hung between you.

Spencer nodded, his eyes soft and understanding, as if he could already sense your nerves. "Yeah," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand reassuringly. "The team. They’ve been dying to meet you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The thought of meeting Spencer’s team made your heart race—not just because they were profilers, but because Rossi would likely recognize you. Maybe even Hotch. It had been years since either of them had seen you, but the possibility hung in the air. You weren’t sure if they’d bring it up, and you certainly weren’t ready to share that part of your life with Spencer. Not yet.

But then, you looked into Spencer’s eyes. The genuine excitement and pride he held for you was undeniable. It was clear he wanted this—wanted you to meet the people who were like family to him. The idea of disappointing him tugged at you, and despite the nerves gnawing at your chest, you couldn’t help but smile softly.

He reached across the table, gently squeezing your other hand too, offering comfort in that simple gesture. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if sensing something in your hesitation but choosing to let it pass, trusting you to open up when you were ready.

The thought of Spencer’s trust in you helped calm some of the swirling anxiety. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to push aside the weight of your past for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. "I’d love to meet them," you said, though you could still feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “You’re going to love them,” he assured you, his voice full of warmth. “And they’re going to love you too."

Later that evening, Spencer’s fingers traced gentle circles along your back, his touch soothing as you lay against his chest, both of you perfectly relaxed. The quiet of the evening had settled around you, a comfortable silence, until Spencer broke it with a question that caught you off guard.

“Do you have a job?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden bluntness of the question. “What?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he quickly realized how it sounded. “I mean,” he corrected, his voice softer, “you never talk about work, and I—I’ve never seen you go to work. Do you work?”

You smiled, lifting your chin from his chest so you could look up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Yes, I have a job, Spencer.”

He looked down at you with his brows raised, making his chin tuck in a way that was so adorably endearing you had to fight the urge to kiss him right there. “Well, do tell, baby.”

The way he said "baby" sent a rush through you, making your heart skip and your core tighten. The new pet name caught you by surprise, and you could feel your pulse quicken. You wanted to answer his question, but something inside you hesitated. The job you had wasn’t something you brought up often, and certainly not something that most people would take lightly.

You bit your lip, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Spencer's chest as you considered your answer. “What if you think differently of me?” you teased, giving him a playful look.

Spencer chuckled softly, catching onto your teasing tone. “Depends on how you answer,” he joked back, his eyes twinkling. “But no, I would never judge you.”

You sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “Okay… fine,” you said, pausing for effect. “I’m a cybersecurity analyst. I just work from home.”

Spencer's face lit up with curiosity. “A cybersecurity analyst? That’s amazing,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, still grinning at how smoothly it had gone. “It’s not that exciting,” you replied, feeling relieved that you could finally share a bit of your work with him. "I just stare at a screen all day."

Spencer shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. “I think it's fascinating. But I guess you're right, staring at a screen is definitely something I can relate to." His fingers resumed their gentle strokes along your back, his gaze warm.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest. “I just don’t have that much to talk about. I don’t interact with anyone all day long.”

Spencer smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “It’s okay, Red,” he said, stroking his finger gently down the bridge of your nose in a soothing gesture. “You know, my friend Penelope does something similar.”

“Really?” you perked up, excitement bubbling up at the thought of having something in common with someone in Spencer’s world. Your aunt had never mentioned anyone named Penelope before, but this new information intrigued you. “What does she do?”

“She’s a technical analyst for the BAU,” Spencer explained, a fondness creeping into his tone as he spoke about Penelope. “She handles all the tech and cyber stuff for us—tracking data, finding digital footprints, that sort of thing.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of her role. “That sounds so cool! Maybe we could exchange tips,” you laughed, already imagining the kind of work Penelope must be involved in.

“I’m so glad you want to meet them,” Spencer said softly, his voice full of relief and excitement. He breathed deeply, the rise and fall of his chest gently lifting you with each inhale. His hand stroked your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles as he looked at you with warmth and affection. “You mean so much to me,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. Spencer, who was usually so careful with his emotions, was being completely vulnerable with you now. It made your connection feel even deeper, like you were sharing something truly special.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips brushing his. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered against his mouth, feeling more at ease about meeting his team.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head, still in disbelief at how elated he felt. The emotions swirling in his chest were too much to hold back, and before either of you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a deep, tender kiss, full of all the feelings he hadn’t yet put into words.

The kiss was different this time—more intense, more meaningful. You could feel the depth of Spencer's emotions through the way his hands gently cupped your face, the way he kissed you like he was afraid to ever let you go. It wasn’t just desire, but something deeper, something sweeter, like the connection between you both had finally settled into something undeniable.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft curls as you kissed him back just as deeply, wanting him to feel how much you cared too. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

When Spencer finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at you with such affection that your heart skipped a beat. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before," he admitted softly, his voice full of awe. 

You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. "Me neither," you whispered back, and in that moment, everything felt right. 

—

Hotch stood across from Erin Strauss, her expression cold and unforgiving as she paced behind her desk. Her gaze was sharp, and Hotch could already tell where the conversation was headed. 

“I’ve reviewed Agent Reid’s file,” Strauss said abruptly, her voice laced with disdain. She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “His performance has been... inconsistent, to say the least. And given his past—” She let the sentence hang, as though expecting Hotch to fill in the blanks.

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression impassive. “Reid is one of the best agents I have. His mind is invaluable to this team.”

Strauss’s eyes narrowed, dismissing his defense with a wave of her hand. “That’s not enough to excuse what he’s been through. His history with drugs, Hotch. We can't ignore it.”

“He’s been clean for years,” Hotch stated firmly, his voice steady though his frustration was clear. “Reid has worked harder than anyone to get past that.”

Strauss leaned forward, her fingers tapping the desk. “I’m not here to argue his work ethic. I’m here because I’m questioning whether Agent Reid can continue to perform in the field without becoming a liability.”

Hotch felt a surge of anger but swallowed it back. “He hasn’t shown any signs of relapse.”

“Not yet,” Strauss shot back. “But the risk is always there. And we can’t afford risks like him, not in a unit as high profile as the BAU.”

Hotch crossed his arms, his posture firm. “He’s earned his place. Whatever you’re insinuating—”

“I’m not insinuating,” she cut him off, her voice icy. “I’m telling you how this is going to go. From now on, Reid will be subjected to mandatory drug tests. Monthly.” She emphasized the last word, her expression hard. “If there are any slip-ups, any signs of relapse, even the faintest suspicion, he’s out.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened. “That’s unnecessary.”

Strauss tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk, her icy demeanor unwavering as she continued to challenge Hotch. “You’re defending him again,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing. “Just like you always do. Every time Reid’s decision-making is called into question, it’s you who steps in to justify it. How many times has he put the team at risk with his recklessness, his… emotional judgments? And every time, you shield him.”

Hotch held her gaze, his face impassive though his patience was wearing thin. “Reid’s decisions are not reckless. He’s a profiler, just like the rest of us. Sometimes we have to make judgment calls, and Reid—despite his past, despite his personal struggles—makes the right ones more often than not.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, her expression one of disbelief. “Judgment calls? That’s your defense? We can’t afford judgment calls, Aaron. Not when we’re dealing with murderers, terrorists, and serial predators. Reid’s personal issues cloud his judgment, and that makes him a risk.”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. “We work in the field. Every agent makes judgment calls—myself included. We don’t always have the luxury of time or all the facts laid out perfectly for us. Reid has an exceptional mind, and when he’s under pressure, he performs. Yes, he’s made mistakes, but so have all of us. He’s saved more lives than I can count.”

Strauss’ eyes flashed with irritation. “But his mistakes could have cost lives, Aaron. And you know that. How many times has he hesitated, overthought, or even worse, let his emotions dictate his actions? You’ve had to justify his choices to me and other superiors more times than you should have.”

Hotch’s face remained unreadable, but his voice grew harder. “I justify his decisions because they are the right ones. When you’re in the field, in a life-or-death situation, you need someone like Reid—a man who can think faster than anyone else in the room. His ability to process information, to read people, is unmatched.”

Strauss shook her head, her frustration boiling over. “You call it unmatched. I call it unstable. His mind may be brilliant, but it’s fragile. You can’t deny that. And you can’t keep making excuses for him. This is a dangerous game, and the stakes are too high for mistakes.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not unstable. He’s human. Every member of this team has had to make decisions under pressure, sometimes with incomplete information, and Reid is no different.”

“But he is different,” Strauss countered, her voice cutting through the room. “He’s the one who’s been to rehab. He’s the one who struggles with dependency. And let’s not forget the mental strain he’s been under for years. The rest of your team—Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi—they’re reliable. Reid, on the other hand, is unpredictable.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “He’s faced more than most of us could handle, and he’s come out the other side stronger. I trust him with my life, and so does the team.”

Strauss leaned forward, her gaze cold. “I don’t. And that’s why this is non-negotiable, Hotch. Monthly drug tests. If he slips, if there’s even a hint of a problem, he’s out. I will not tolerate another incident where I have to clean up his mess because you think his ‘judgment calls’ are excusable.”

Hotch stared at her for a long moment, the tension palpable. “And what happens when you push him out and lose one of the best agents this Bureau has ever had?”

Strauss didn’t blink. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The silence hung heavy between them, and Hotch realized no amount of reasoning would sway her.

Hotch left Strauss’s office, the tension from their conversation still lingering in the back of his mind. He didn’t like this any more than Spencer would, but Strauss had made her decision, and now it was up to him to break the news. The whole situation felt like a slap in the face to Spencer’s progress, and Hotch knew the young agent wouldn’t take it well.

Hotch found Spencer in the bullpen, hunched over some files, lost in thought. The usual furrow of concentration on his brow lifted as he glanced up and saw Hotch approaching.

"Hey, Hotch," Spencer greeted with a faint smile, but Hotch could see the weariness behind it. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he sat down across from him.

"Spencer, we need to talk," Hotch said, his tone more serious than usual.

Spencer’s smile faded, replaced by a look of curiosity, then mild concern. "What’s going on?"

Hotch exhaled, running a hand over his face before speaking. "Strauss is implementing new protocols. Effective immediately, you’ll be subjected to monthly drug tests."

Spencer blinked, his expression falling into confusion. "What? Why now? I haven’t used in four years, Hotch. I thought all of that was behind us."

Hotch leaned forward, his voice calm but steady. "I know, and I’ve made that clear to her. You’ve been clean for years, and we all see the progress you’ve made. But Strauss doesn’t trust that your addiction won’t resurface. She’s convinced that you're still a liability."

Spencer’s face twisted in frustration, and his hands fidgeted on the desk in front of him. He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I don’t understand. I’ve done everything right. I’ve proven myself. Why does she still think I’m going to screw up?"

Hotch looked at him sympathetically. "This isn’t about you, Spencer. It’s about Strauss’s own perception."

Spencer clenched his fists, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I thought… I thought we were past all of that. Four years clean, Hotch. Four years. And she still sees me as a ticking time bomb."

Hotch’s gaze softened. "I know it’s unfair, and I wish I could change it. But Strauss has the power to enforce this protocol. I fought for you, Spencer. I’ll always fight for you. But this is one battle I couldn’t win."

Spencer leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he processed the information. The frustration and hurt in his eyes were evident. "Why does she hate me so much?" he muttered, more to himself than to Hotch. "Why am I always the one who has to prove myself over and over again?"

Hotch didn’t have an answer for that. Strauss’s animosity toward Spencer had always been unwarranted, and no matter how hard Spencer worked, it seemed she would never let go of the past.

"You’re not alone in this," Hotch said quietly, his voice firm. "The team knows how far you’ve come. We trust you. And we’ll make sure this doesn’t interfere with your work."

Spencer nodded, though the disappointment was still etched on his face. "I just don’t get it. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do. Why can’t she see that?"

Hotch reached across the desk, resting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Because people like Strauss only see the risks, not the person. But we see you, Spencer. Don’t let her take that away from you."

Spencer offered a small, grateful smile, though the frustration still lingered in his eyes. He had been through enough, and this just felt like one more hurdle to jump.

As Hotch walked away, Spencer sat there, staring at the papers in front of him. He had thought the worst was behind him—that his addiction, his past struggles, were finally over. But now, with Strauss breathing down his neck, it felt like he was back at square one. And no matter how hard he worked, how far he came, there was always someone like Strauss, waiting to drag him back down.

—

“Spencer!” you screeched from your bedroom, the urgency in your voice sending Spencer into an instant state of panic. He rushed in, his mind racing, worried something terrible had happened.

But when he burst through the door, what greeted him was not a disaster—well, not the kind he had imagined. You were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by heaps of clothes, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. The sight made him chuckle, though he was also slightly flustered, his cheeks tinged pink at the sight of you in so little.

“What’s up, Red?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite how his heart raced.

You looked up at him, pouting, clearly distressed. Spencer, in his cozy sweatpants and hoodie, looked perfectly at ease while you were caught in a whirlwind of indecision. “I don’t know what to wear tonight,” you groaned, gesturing helplessly at the mountain of clothes surrounding you.

Spencer chuckled again, stepping further into the room. “Y/N, we’re not even meeting them for…” he checked his watch and raised his brow, “five hours!”

“I knowww,” you whined, your voice petulant as you flopped back dramatically onto the floor. “But I want to make a good impression.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how adorably worked up you were. He crouched down beside you, his eyes warm as he gazed at your scattered wardrobe. “You could show up in a garbage bag, and they’d still love you,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Trust me, you don’t need to stress.”

You sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a blouse. “Easy for you to say,” you mumbled, holding the shirt up. “You look good in everything.”

Spencer laughed softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek before leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear. And honestly, they’re just excited to meet the person who’s made me so happy.” 

You looked up at him, his words warming your heart. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Spencer smiled. “That’s what you keep telling me.” He glanced down at the pile of clothes again. “Now, let’s figure out what outfit makes you feel as amazing as you are.”

After a lot of playful back and forth, Spencer finally helped you choose an outfit, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have the sweetest man alive by your side. You stood in your room, back in your bra and underwear, having set out the outfit for later, a black dress with red tights, duh. As you got ready, your heart swelled with affection for him—your boyfriend, the man who already seemed to know how to calm your nerves.

Standing in front of him, you ran your hands up Spencer’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie. With a teasing smile, you tugged gently on the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “Can I show you how much I appreciate you, handsome?” you whispered, your voice playful but filled with sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He was always so adorably flustered when you teased him like this. But he smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hands resting on your waist. “You already do,” he murmured against your lips, but there was no mistaking the way his breath hitched, betraying just how much he wanted you.

“Mm, but I want to really show you,” you breathed softly, your hands dropping to the waistband of Spencer’s sweats. His breath hitched immediately at the sensation of your fingers lightly teasing beneath the fabric, brushing against the coarse hair below.

“Wh—what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep his composure.

You smiled up at him, letting your fingers explore just a little, before you slowly began lowering yourself to your knees. “Well… I could tell you,” you said playfully, your voice dropping to a whisper, “or I could show you.”

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths as he tried to process what was happening. “Oh my god, uh…” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden intensity.

You firmly grasped the waistband of his sweats then, looking up at him for permission. “Can I?” you asked gently, always making sure he was comfortable.

Spencer didn’t respond right away. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic as he confessed, “I’ve never—no one has…”

You immediately understood, pulling your hands back gently. “Oh baby, we don’t have to,” you said softly, standing up and placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

Spencer looked at you with gratitude and an apology in his eyes. “Maybe later?” he offered, his tone tentative but sincere. “We… we need to get ready.”

You smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course,” you whispered. There was no need to push or rush anything. You had plenty of time, and you’d always respect his boundaries.

Later, after you and Spencer had finished getting ready, you couldn’t help but feel a bit pent up. Spencer looked good earlier, but now? Now, he looked downright irresistible. His button-down shirt paired with a checkered sweater vest, and those slacks—hugging him just right—had you practically drooling. But with Spencer’s earlier discomfort, you held your tongue, not wanting to push things too soon. 

After a quick kiss and a quiet pep talk, the two of you were outside, hailing a cab to meet his team at the bar. Your nerves were still buzzing. You were excited for Spencer, but the thought of someone recognizing you, of someone saying something, kept you on edge. You wanted to be the best partner to him, especially with how proud he was to introduce you to everyone.

As you approached the table, your nerves flared even more, but you plastered on a confident smile. Sitting around the table were Derek, Emily, JJ, and Penelope, all of whom greeted you warmly, each with their own playful digs at Spencer.

“Well, well,” Derek grinned, leaning back in his chair as he gave Spencer a once-over. “Pretty Boy wasn’t kidding when he said he was smitten.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking as she gave you a friendly once-over. “Wow, Reid. No wonder you’ve been so secretive. I would’ve kept this hidden too.”

JJ nudged Penelope, who had stars in her eyes. “I’m so happy you’re real!” Penelope practically squealed. “I thought for sure Spencer was making you up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, laughing, as he proudly introduced you to his team, visibly glowing from how much they seemed to like you right off the bat.

You smiled, feeling more at ease, though still a bit on edge as you scanned the room. No sign of Hotch or Rossi—thank god, you thought, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

But just as you were about to take a seat, you heard it—the unmistakable voice from behind you. “Reid, is this your lady?” Rossi’s voice carried through the bar, calm and curious.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you turned, your breath catching in your throat. As your eyes met Rossi’s, you immediately saw it—the flicker of recognition. Then, as you glanced at Hotch standing next to him, it was unmistakable. They both recognized you.

Your heart pounded as you pleaded with your eyes, hoping Rossi would get the message. Please, don’t say anything.

Spencer, none the wiser, smiled brightly as he introduced you. “Yes! Rossi, Hotch—this is Y/N.”

You extended your hand, swallowing your nerves as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Rossi took your hand, his grip warm and familiar as he gave you a knowing look. But instead of saying anything, he squeezed your hand gently and winked. "The pleasure is all mine," he said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing.

You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that for now, your secret was safe.

Hotch nodded politely, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning you, clearly making a mental note of the situation. But just like Rossi, he remained silent on the matter.

Spencer, completely oblivious, continued chatting with the group, beaming with pride as he showed you off to the people who mattered most to him. You smiled along, feeling the weight lift slightly, knowing that at least for now, your past could stay buried.

As the drinks flowed and the night progressed, you found yourself thoroughly enjoying the company of Spencer’s team. They were warm, welcoming, and great fun to be around, making it easier for you to relax. Even Hotch and Rossi, after the initial awkwardness, had lightened up, joining in the laughter and the storytelling.

It was a blast hearing them tease Spencer, recounting funny case stories and little moments from their years together. You were especially enjoying the bond you were forming with Penelope, both of you gushing over your shared love for tech and quickly finding an easy rhythm with one another. You felt like you’d made an instant friend.

But with every sip of your drink, your attention kept drifting back to Spencer. He just looked so good, sitting there, his eyes a little hooded from the alcohol, his jaw clenching as he excitedly explained some complex theory to Emily. His hands moved with purpose, fingers waving as he passionately discussed whatever topic he was on. The sight of him like that—so animated, so him—had desire steadily building in the pit of your stomach.

You bit your lip, watching him for a moment before giving in to temptation. Slowly, you slid your hand onto his thigh under the table, your fingers curling around him firmly. Spencer jolted slightly, his conversation with Emily stuttering as he tried to refocus.

He coughed lightly, glancing at you with wide eyes before quickly turning back to Emily, pretending to concentrate on the conversation while clearly trying to ignore your wandering hand.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. You smirked slightly, your thumb stroking slow circles against his thigh, inching closer. You could see the tension in his posture, how he was trying desperately to maintain his composure while you toyed with him.

Spencer stammered again, shooting you a look that was half warning, half pleading, but he couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his neck. His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, clearly struggling to keep it together as your touch continued to drive him wild beneath the table.

Spencer was briefly rescued by an unsung hero—Rossi.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Rossi announced, his tone casual as he looked in your direction. “Y/N, yours is looking light. Care to come with?” The look he gave you left no room for arguing. It was more of a command than an offer.

You nodded and stood, following him to the bar, your heart pounding. Once you were there, away from the laughter and teasing at the table, Rossi’s expression shifted. The warmth he usually radiated had cooled into something far more serious, almost stern.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Rossi asked, cutting straight to the point.

You sighed, leaning against the bar. “Not yet.”

Rossi’s glare was sharp, filled with concern rather than judgment. “You need to tell him, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a weight to his words you couldn’t brush off. “Come on, David. It’s not like it’s life or death.”

“No, it’s not,” Rossi agreed, his voice calm but firm. “But it’s going to matter to him. Especially now that you know. The longer you wait, the worse it gets.”

You hated how right he was. You hated that every day you kept this secret, the weight of it grew heavier. “I know,” you admitted, the frustration clear in your voice. “But what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if it changes everything?”

Rossi’s expression softened slightly, his sternness giving way to understanding. “Spencer isn’t like that,” he said quietly. “But he values honesty. Keeping this from him… it’ll hurt him more than the truth ever will. If he finds out later, he’ll feel betrayed. And you don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head, staring down at the drink the bartender had just handed you. “No, I don’t.”

Rossi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s scary,” he said softly. “But trust me—Spencer cares about you. He’ll understand. You just have to give him the chance to.”

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as the weight of the conversation settled in. You knew what you had to do, but the thought of it still sent a nervous chill down your spine.

Rossi gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Better sooner than later, kiddo.” Then, with a wink, he turned to head back to the table, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. 

When you returned to Spencer’s side, he didn’t even notice that you hadn’t come back with a drink. Instead, he smiled brightly and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The warmth of his body instantly soothed you, but the mistake became apparent as soon as you breathed in his scent—clean, warm, and undeniably Spencer. The hunger inside you flared up tenfold, and you had to fight to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory.

Derek, of course, seized the moment, grinning mischievously from across the table. “Did Spencer tell you about the time a famous actress kissed him?”

Your eyebrows shot up, intrigued but also curious to see Spencer’s reaction. “What?” you asked with a teasing smile, nudging Spencer lightly. “No, he conveniently left that part out.”

Spencer flushed instantly, his arm tightening slightly around you as he groaned. “Oh god, not this story,” he muttered, glaring at Derek.

“Oh, come on, Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re basically a celebrity yourself for that one.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide with curiosity. “I have to hear this,” you said, trying to keep the playful edge in your voice despite how distracted you felt by his proximity.

Spencer sighed, clearly embarrassed. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said quickly, as if trying to brush it off.

Derek scoffed, shaking his head as if Spencer’s modesty was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. “Not a big deal? Reid here was pulled into a swimming pool. She basically mounted him.”

You laughed, eyes widening in disbelief. “What?!”

Spencer buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in defeat, while Derek grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Yep, and the best part? The paparazzi caught the whole thing."

“There are pictures on the internet!” Penelope chimed in cheerfully, as if offering you a goldmine of information. "I saved them to my phone!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity piqued even more. “Oh, I have to see these.”

Spencer groaned, leaning back in his seat, his face flushed red. “Please don’t encourage them,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Derek leaned forward, enjoying every moment of Spencer’s discomfort. “Oh no, Y/N, you definitely need to look it up. It’s a classic ‘Reid in over his head’ moment. He’s all wet, confused, and awkward—it’s priceless.”

Penelope nodded eagerly. “He tried to escape, but the actress wouldn’t let him go. She had him trapped!”

You were laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you giggled, leaning against him. “How did I not know about this sooner?”

Spencer, though clearly embarrassed, finally cracked a smile. “I didn’t think it was relevant,” he mumbled, shooting Derek and Penelope a half-hearted glare.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Derek teased. “Don’t let him fool you, Y/N. She was all over him.”

You giggled, poking Spencer’s side playfully. “Why do I feel like I’m going to need more details later?”

Spencer groaned again, but there was a small, sheepish smile on his face as he squeezed your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it… eventually,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him again, the tension from earlier melting away slightly as you enjoyed the moment with him and his team. For now, the weight of your secret could wait just a little longer.

The group finally decided to call it a night, but you were buzzing with excitement, eager to get Spencer alone—all to yourself. Both of you had stopped drinking hours ago, switching to water to avoid any hangovers, but the anticipation had been steadily building. 

As soon as you climbed into the back of a cab together, your hand instinctively returned to Spencer’s thigh, your fingers squeezing appreciatively as they traced the thick muscle. You weren't planning on doing anything more, especially in public, but the closeness only fueled the fire inside you.

The cab ride felt longer than usual, the tension simmering between you two in the dim light of the backseat. Spencer seemed to notice it too, his eyes meeting yours in silent understanding. 

But once you had Spencer inside your front door, all restraint vanished. You pushed him against a bare wall with urgency, your hands gripping his lithe waist as your lips found his neck, planting hot, hungry kisses along his skin.

"Y/N?" Spencer gasped, his voice strained with both surprise and desire. His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his pulse. "What’s gotten into you?"

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the taste of his skin and the way his body responded to every touch. Instead, you kissed your way up to his mouth, pressing yourself against him. Between breaths, you mumbled against his lips, “Hopefully you.”

Spencer let out a low groan, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m not sure I can resist you right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, already losing the battle against the pull you had over him.

You grinned against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both simmering to a near-boiling point. “Please don’t resist,” you whispered against his lips, your voice low and filled with need. “You looked so fucking hot tonight.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hand pressing against the growing hardness in his slacks. The pressure of your touch made him buck his hips forward instinctively, his eyes widening as the sensation shot through him.

“Is this okay now?” you asked, your voice breathy with desire as you looked up at him, your hand still teasing him through the fabric. “Please, Spencer. Please, I need to taste you.”

His mind raced, a jumble of thoughts and emotions, but all of them led to the same conclusion—how could he say no when you asked him like that, when the hunger in your eyes matched his own? He nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to form proper words, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

As your fingers deftly worked to undo his belt and the button of his slacks, Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands bracing against the wall behind him for support. He was already losing himself to the intensity of the moment, the anticipation building with every second.

Spencer swallowed hard, his nerves apparent as he shifted slightly under your touch. “What, um, what do I do?” he asked nervously, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

You smiled up at him like a vixen, your lips brushing over the now-exposed skin of his thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted you most. His breath hitched as you nosed along the front of his briefs, the friction sending a shudder through him that made him whimper.

Sticking your tongue out, you traced him through the fabric, feeling the heat radiating through it, and looked up at him with playful intent. “Try not to make me gag,” you teased, your voice low and sultry. “Pull my hair if you like… and let me know when you’re going to come.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, the tension and excitement evident in his expression. His grip on the wall tightened as he nodded, trying to follow your instructions, but the way you spoke and the feeling of your tongue against him had him unraveling already.

The moment was intoxicating, your playful control over him leaving him helpless as he tried to hold it together. Every touch, every word, was pushing him closer to the edge, and he could hardly believe this was happening.

As you pulled off the last barrier, Spencer’s briefs sliding down, you couldn’t help but grin like you’d just unwrapped the most perfect present. You’d seen him naked before, but this was different—having his hard cock right in front of you, so close, filled you with an intoxicating sense of control and desire. 

You licked your lips, savoring the moment, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his head, tasting him for the first time. Spencer’s breath hitched, his back instinctively pulling away from the wall as a wave of sensation coursed through him. His hands found their way into your hair, his grip hesitant at first but growing more confident as the pleasure built.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, Spencer’s entire body reacted, his hands tugging at your hair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. He was already a mess, and you’d barely begun.

Pulling back for just a moment, you looked up at him with a wicked glint in your eyes and whispered, “Good boy.”

The praise hit him like a freight train, his hips bucking slightly as he let out a pathetic, needy whimper in response. He was completely at your mercy, lost in the sensation, and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. Every touch, every word from you was pushing him further under, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, completely overwhelmed by you.

You leaned back in, taking him into your mouth again, more confident now that you’d seen his reactions. Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair as his body arched, his control slowly unraveling with each passing second. You could feel the tension building in him, hear the way his breath quickened, shaky and unsteady, as he tried to hold back.

Every movement you made seemed to push him further toward the edge. The way you hollowed your cheeks, the small flicks of your tongue, the pressure—everything was driving him wild. His hips bucked involuntarily, but you were ready for it, holding him steady as you took him deeper.

“Y/N…” he gasped, barely able to find his voice. His breathing was ragged now, and he was doing everything he could to hold on. “I’m close…”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations almost sending him over the edge. He tightened his grip in your hair, his hips stuttering as he let out a broken moan, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

“God, darling…” Spencer whimpered, his voice barely a whisper as he prepared to ride out the waves of pleasure, his head falling back against the wall. 

Spencer’s breath hitched as you pulled back suddenly, leaving him teetering on the edge without release. His body betrayed him, a desperate whine escaping his lips as he thrashed lightly against the wall, trying to chase the pleasure you’d just denied him. 

You placed a firm hand on his hip, grounding him, while your other hand came up to stroke him slowly, teasingly. "Over so soon, baby?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement, watching his reactions closely. 

“I’m—” he hiccuped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m sorry, it just feels so good.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing him further. “Thought you weren’t a virgin, Spence?”

His face flushed deep red, his breath ragged and uneven as he struggled to focus. “I’m n—not,” he stammered, his words tumbling over themselves as he tried to speak while your hand brought him back to the brink. “Just hav—ah—haven’t had this before.”

Your strokes were slow and deliberate, torturous in the best way, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his tip. “Is it too much for you?” you whispered softly, your voice low and seductive.

Spencer shook his head frantically, biting his lip as he tried to hold back. “No… no, I—I don’t want you to stop,” he gasped, his hands instinctively gripping your hair tighter, his fingers digging into your scalp as he tried to anchor himself. “Please…”

You smiled at his response, watching as he lost himself to the sensations, barely able to hold on as you continued to push him further. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's entire body was trembling under your touch, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as you continued to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. His head was thrown back against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort it took to hold himself together.

You smirked, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, completely at your mercy. His desperation was palpable, and it made you want to push him further—to see just how much he could take.

“You look so good like this,” you whispered, your voice filled with both praise and desire. “Completely undone for me.”

Spencer’s hips jerked slightly in response, and he whimpered again, barely able to form words as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “Y/N, please,” he gasped, his voice shaky. “I—I can’t—”

You leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his hip, kissing and biting lightly as you kept your hand moving at a torturous pace. “What do you want, Spence?” you asked softly, your breath warm against his skin.

Spencer’s voice broke as he whimpered, his words nearly a plea. “You—your mouth, please,” he begged, his body trembling, the desperation in his tone unmistakable. He was so close to the edge, and you could tell he was barely holding himself together.

You smiled softly, relishing the power you had over him in this moment. “Okay, baby,” you whispered, your voice laced with both affection and desire. “You’ve been so good for me… you can have whatever you want.”

Without wasting another moment, and your hand still gently stroking him, you placed a soft kiss on his tip. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his entire body shuddered in anticipation. His hands tightened in your hair again after losing their grip, and you could feel how tightly he was holding on, as if letting go would make him lose control completely.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth, savoring the salty taste and the way his body reacted immediately. Spencer’s head fell back against the wall, a strangled moan escaping his lips as his hips instinctively pushed forward, gagging you.

“You’re so good,” he gasped, his voice breathless as he struggled to keep his composure. “So, so good…”

The praise only made you work harder, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, determined to give him exactly what he asked for. Spencer’s body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the tension building rapidly, his breaths becoming shorter and more erratic with each passing second.

“Y/N, I—” he managed to choke out, his hands tightening in your hair. “I’m gonna—”

You didn’t pull away this time. You kept going, your pace quickening and your other hand cupping his balls as you brought him right to the edge, determined to take him all the way.

And then, with a final, desperate moan, Spencer came undone completely, his body trembling as he released into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening for a moment before he released it completely collapsed back against the wall, utterly spent.

You pulled away slowly, wiping the corner of your mouth with a smirk as you looked up at him. Spencer’s chest was still heaving, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, a blissful smile tugging at his lips.

But then Spencer’s eyes widened in panic, and his face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—to… in your mouth!”

You giggled, your mouth still full, shaking your head affectionately at his reaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you stuck out your tongue to show him exactly what he had done. Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his breath hitching as he took in the sight.

He felt lightheaded, especially when you casually closed your mouth and, in one smooth motion, swallowed. “Jesus,” he breathed, his voice barely audible, the raw intensity of the moment catching up to him.

You grinned wickedly. “Just me, baby,” you winked, laughing as you stood up on slightly wobbly legs, your body still buzzing with the energy of the moment.

Before you could stumble, Spencer’s hands reached out to catch you, steadying you against him. “Whoa, careful, Bambi,” he teased, his voice finally regaining some steadiness.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at his comment, your smile still bright. “I could say the same,” you said, your gaze flicking downward where the hardness of him was pressing into your stomach. “Or should I call you Pinocchio? Again, Spence, really?"

Spencer’s face flushed again, and he laughed awkwardly, his hands tightening around your waist. “I—uh—yeah, sorry about that. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking sheepish as he tried to explain. “You’re kind of… really hot.”

You laughed softly, kissing Spencer sweetly on the lips. But just as you pulled away, Spencer abruptly jerked back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What?” you asked, confused by his sudden reaction.

“You have—me! In your mouth!” he sputtered, looking completely flustered.

You tilted your head, amused by his innocence. “Does that gross you out?” you teased. “Because I think you taste good.”

Spencer flushed even more, which you didn’t think was possible at this point. He stammered, his words tripping over themselves. “I don’t... I don’t know. I’ve just... never thought about it.”

You smiled playfully, shrugging as you turned and sighed dramatically. “Well, you don’t have to kiss me right now, Spence... I guess I’ll just go to bed alone.” Letting your dress fall provocatively from your shoulder, you made your way toward the bedroom, your steps slow and intentional.

Spencer’s mind raced, catching up with the teasing tone in your voice. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized what you were implying. Without hesitation, he scrambled to pull his briefs and pants back up, fastening them quickly before running after you.

“Wait!” he called out, his voice filled with urgency as he reached out to grab your hand, stopping you just before you could disappear into the bedroom.

You turned to face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?” you asked, your lips curving into a slow smile.

Spencer, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. “I—I’m not letting you go to bed alone,” he said, his voice a mix of determination and longing. “I want to be with you.”

You smiled warmly, pulling him close. “Good answer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a deep, slow kiss, letting him feel how much you wanted him too.

That night, however, the two of you decided to take it slow and just go to bed. You could tell Spencer had done enough exploring for one day, and there was no need to push him further. After all, the night had already been filled with its own excitement.

You handed him a spare toothbrush to keep at your place, something that made Spencer smile shyly. He changed into the sweats he had borrowed earlier, and you both settled into bed, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of each other.

With Spencer nestled against your chest, his head rising and falling gently with your breathing, you kissed the top of his head and sighed contentedly. The moment felt perfect, and you were certain Spencer had already drifted off to sleep when you heard it. The words were so soft, you almost thought you were imagining them.

“I think I'm falling in love with you,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible against your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, unsure if you’d actually heard it. But the warmth of his words lingered in the air, and you knew it was real. You could feel the way his body tensed slightly, like he was scared of what he’d just confessed, but you couldn’t help the wide, beaming smile that stretched across your face.

Your hand gently stroked his hair as you whispered back, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Spencer’s body relaxed against yours, and for the first time that night, you both fell asleep with the quiet comfort of knowing you were falling in love—together.

—

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, your hand reaching out instinctively for Spencer, but finding only cool sheets. A flash of panic surged through you until you heard his voice, faint but audible, coming from down the hall. You couldn’t make out the words, but there was a tension in his tone, a heaviness that made your chest tighten.

You slipped out of bed, still groggy, and padded quietly to the door, opening it just enough to see Spencer standing in the living room. The morning sunlight bathed him in a soft, golden glow, highlighting the slump in his shoulders. He was on the phone, and even though his voice was low, you could tell he was upset.

When he heard the door creak open, he quickly wrapped up the conversation. “Hotch, I gotta go. Yeah. Bye,” he said, his tone clipped as he hung up.

You took a tentative step toward him, concern lacing your voice as you asked, “You okay?”

Spencer turned to face you, and without hesitation, he let his body fall into yours. His chin rested gently on the top of your head as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Yeah," he muttered, though you could feel the weight behind his words. "Just work stuff."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, trying to offer him the comfort he clearly needed. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing him to know you were there.

“Not right now,” Spencer murmured, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His smile was small but genuine, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything was fine, even if it wasn’t. “I was trying to make coffee, but I couldn’t find your grounds.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the mood just a little. “I use disposable pods, silly.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ahh, that would do it.” 

There was a moment of quiet between you as Spencer leaned back into your embrace, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. Even though he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, you knew he appreciated your presence. And for now, that was enough.

Once the coffee was made and the two of you settled into the comfortable chairs on your deck, the soft morning breeze creating a peaceful atmosphere, you knew it was time. Spencer sat beside you, sipping his coffee, lost in thought but content. The silence between you had been comforting, but there was something tugging at you now, something you needed to share.

You glanced over at him, watching how the sunlight danced across his face, and took a deep breath, feeling your heart pick up pace. Breaking the peaceful quiet, you spoke up softly, “Spencer… can I tell you something? About my past? It’s not exactly happy…”

Spencer’s attention immediately shifted to you, his eyes soft but concerned. He set his mug down on the small table beside him, turning his body slightly to face you. “Of course,” he said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your coffee cup. It was hard, the idea of opening up this part of yourself, but if you wanted to move forward, to build something real with Spencer, you knew he deserved to know.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you began slowly, your voice faltering slightly. “It’s not that I’ve lied, but… there are things about my past I haven’t told you.”

Spencer’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand gently covering yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. Spencer’s hand was still resting on yours, grounding you, giving you the strength to continue.

“When I was thirteen,” you started, your voice low, “I lost both of my parents. It wasn’t... it wasn’t an accident or some freak illness. They both died from drug overdoses.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in concern, but he didn’t say anything, giving you the space to speak.

“My father had always been an addict. I barely remember a time when he wasn’t using something. He was... abusive. Violent, unpredictable.” You swallowed hard, the memories flashing in your mind like dark clouds. “I lived with my mom most of the time. We tried to keep away from him, hiding from him really. He was dangerous, and my mom did her best to protect us.”

You paused, feeling the lump forming in your throat, but Spencer’s thumb tracing circles on your skin kept you anchored.

“One day, when I was at school, my mom was home. She had called in sick that day, just a flu or something. But somehow, my dad found her. He showed up while I was gone.” Your voice wavered, and you closed your eyes for a second, willing yourself to keep going. “When I came home, I found them both... he had overdosed them. I guess he thought if he was going down, he’d take her with him.”

Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, and when you looked up, his eyes were filled with compassion and something else... empathy, perhaps. He didn’t say a word, just let you continue.

“That’s how I found them. Both gone, just... gone.” You could feel your breath hitch as the memories flooded back. “After that, my little sister and I went to live with my aunt. She took us in, gave us a home, but it was never the same. My sister... she couldn’t handle what our father did. She was so young, and it broke her.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. Spencer leaned closer, his body almost enveloping you with comfort.

“Where is your sister now?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “She got addicted too, a few years later. I tried to help her, but she was... lost. She ran away when she was old enough, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

Spencer looked at you with a pained expression, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, for both of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “It was... it still is. But I guess I’m just terrified of the past catching up to me, of losing more people to the same thing.”

Spencer’s thumb gently stroked your hand, silently encouraging you to continue.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you wiped the last trace of tears from your eyes. “I love my aunt dearly,” you said, voice soft but filled with warmth. “She’s an amazing woman. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be... I probably would have ended up in foster care, or worse.”

“She did everything she could to help my sister,” you continued. “Took us both in when she didn’t have to, gave us a home, stability. But... my sister refused treatment, refused help. My aunt tried, I tried, but she just... wouldn’t listen. I think... I think she was too broken by everything that happened.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he listened, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness he felt on your behalf. “Your aunt sounds like an incredible person,” he said softly. “She must have cared for you both so much.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “She did, and she still does. I wouldn’t have made it without her. She never gave up on me, even when things got really dark. But with my sister...” You trailed off, the pain still fresh despite the years. “She just couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard she tried.”

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around you protectively. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N. I wish I could take away that pain for you.”

You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace comfort you. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I’ve learned to live with it. It’s just hard, knowing that no matter how much love we gave her, my sister couldn’t be saved.”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he spoke. “You did everything you could. Sometimes... people just aren’t ready to accept help. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try, or that you didn’t love her enough.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to just breathe. You hadn’t shared this part of yourself with anyone in such a long time, and Spencer’s quiet understanding felt like a balm to your soul.

“She sounds like an incredible woman, your aunt,” Spencer added, squeezing your hand gently. “And so do you.”

You looked at Spencer with tears welling in your eyes, your emotions on full display. “Thank you, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with gratitude. His thumb gently wiped a tear from underneath your eye, his touch soft and reassuring.

"Not just for listening,” you continued, “but for being you.”

Spencer smiled at you, a deep, affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. His eyes shone with understanding and care, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming connection between you two. He leaned forward then, kissing you deeply, a kiss full of warmth and unspoken promises.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured softly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, more at yourself than anything, as you wiped away the remnants of your tears. "Okay, whew, that’s that," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "Now you know. We can stop crying now."

Spencer smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes flickered with something more, a desire to share, to open up just as you had. “Do you want to know about my parents?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded your head, giving him your full attention, ready to listen just as he had for you.

Spencer sighed deeply, his gaze far away for a moment, as if gathering the words. “My mom… she has schizophrenia. It started when I was really young, and I spent a lot of time trying to understand her illness. It wasn’t easy growing up, knowing she wasn’t like other moms. She was brilliant though, a professor of literature. She used to read to me all the time, teaching me about everything she loved. That’s probably where I get my love for books.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a little for the boy he once was, trying to make sense of a world so complex and painful.

“My dad left when I was ten,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now. “He couldn’t handle it anymore—her illness, the responsibility. He just… left. And it was just me and her after that.”

Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, but he stayed composed. “I spent my childhood trying to take care of her, in my own way. She had episodes, but I didn’t want her to go to a hospital, so I hid a lot of it from people. I thought… I thought I could fix it.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening as he took comfort in your presence.

“I’ve made peace with it now,” Spencer said after a beat. “But it wasn’t easy. There were days I felt like I was drowning, trying to take care of her and go to school, trying to make something of myself.” He paused, then added, “She’s in a facility now, getting the care she needs. I visit when I can.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his words settle, understanding the depth of his pain and the strength it must have taken to survive such a childhood.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered, echoing his earlier words. Your thumb brushed against the back of his hand as you gazed at him with admiration. "You’re a wonderful man, Spencer."

He smiled softly, his eyes brimming with affection as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

When the coffee was finished and the emotional weight of your stories had settled, you both stood up, moving inside together. There was no need for plans, no pressure to fill the day with anything grand. You simply wanted to be together, to spend the day wrapped up in each other’s presence, doing nothing but enjoying the quiet comfort of your shared company.

—

Spencer’s day had started off on a sour note the moment he walked into the testing facility. The thought of being watched during such an intimate, humiliating process had been enough to make his stomach churn. The presence of the other agent, someone he didn’t know, standing nearby as he tried to perform an already uncomfortable task had only worsened his mood.

By the time he returned to the office, Spencer was tense, his nerves frayed from the ordeal. His team—his friends—were used to his occasional bad moods, but this was different. He hated that the drug tests were a constant reminder of a time in his life he’d fought so hard to put behind him, a scar that Strauss and her protocols kept reopening.

Penelope was the first to try and talk to him, her usual bubbly energy shining through as she asked, “Hey, Reid, how was your weekend? Did you spend it with your girl?”

Without thinking, Spencer snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and he could see the hurt flash across her face before she quickly masked it with a forced smile. He regretted it immediately, but in his irritation, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize right away.

Then, Derek, ever the good friend, set a fresh cup of coffee on Spencer’s desk—a simple gesture of kindness. But when a bit of the coffee spilled over the edge onto his papers, Spencer’s patience snapped again.

“Can you not?” Spencer bit out, glaring at the small mess. “It’s everywhere now, Morgan.”

Derek raised his hands in surrender, clearly not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, alright, take it easy, pretty boy.”

Emily, sensing Spencer’s volatile mood, wisely kept her distance. She’d seen him like this before and knew better than to engage when he was on edge.

JJ, always the nurturer, tried her best to offer a soothing presence. “Spence, are you okay? You seem a little... off today.”

But instead of the comfort she usually brought, her words only stoked the fire. “I’m fine, JJ. Can everyone just stop asking me how I’m doing?”

Her eyes widened, taken aback by his harsh tone, and Spencer immediately felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t mean to lash out, especially at JJ, who was only trying to help. His apology came quickly, but it did little to ease the tension.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. “I just... I’m not in a great place right now.”

Hotch had been watching from his office, observing how Spencer was struggling to keep it together. He knew better than most what Spencer was going through, but it was clear today wasn’t a day Spencer should be in the office.

He walked over to Spencer’s desk, his expression firm but understanding. “Reid, go home.”

Spencer looked up, surprised. “I have work to finish—”

“You can take it with you,” Hotch interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You need some space. Go home, get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Spencer didn’t fight it. He nodded, collecting his things, knowing that Hotch was right. He wasn’t doing anyone any good by staying, and his snapping at the people who cared about him only made him feel worse.

As he left the office, Spencer felt a weight lift slightly from his shoulders. But the humiliation of the morning still gnawed at him, and he wondered how long this protocol would hang over his head like a dark cloud.

Things only got worse when you texted Spencer on your lunch break, sharing a silly story about a printer mix-up at work. Normally, Spencer would find your anecdotes charming, loving the way you broke them up into several texts as if you were telling the story in person. But today, the constant pinging of his phone was too much for his already frayed nerves.

He stared at the screen, watching the notifications pile up, the sound seeming louder and more grating than usual. The tension from the day—the frustration, the stress, the hidden weight of what he was dealing with—made every ping feel like it was vibrating directly into his skull.

Instead of waiting for more texts to come through, he called you. It wasn’t out of anger, but a desperate need to silence the noise and prevent the headache he felt creeping up.

“Hi, baby!” you answered, your voice bright and cheery, though you sounded a little surprised. “I didn’t realize you were on your phone. Sorry if I was texting too much—”

“I’m home. Hotch let me leave early,” he huffed, his voice sharp and tense, though he hadn’t meant for it to sound so irritated.

“Oh…” you paused, a little concern creeping into your voice. “Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?”

Your genuine worry, which normally would have soothed him, only felt like another weight on his chest today. He wasn’t angry with you, but the frustration that had been building all day finally spilled over.

“I’m fine,” Spencer snapped, his tone harsher than he intended. “I just… I’m having a bad day, okay?”

The line went quiet for a moment. He immediately regretted his words, knowing you didn’t deserve the brunt of his frustration. You hadn’t done anything wrong, and here he was, snapping at you over something as small as a few text messages.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly, the lightness in your voice replaced with a gentle, understanding tone. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He sighed, the guilt crashing down on him. You had no idea what he was really dealing with—he hadn’t told you about the drug tests, about Strauss's constant scrutiny. He didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to think any less of him, so he kept it all to himself. But now, it was spilling over into how he treated you, and he hated that.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Spencer replied, softer now, trying to reign in his frustration. “It’s not you, I just… today’s been rough.”

There was a pause again, your voice gentle when you finally spoke. “Do you want me to come over? We don’t have to talk about it. I can just be there.”

Spencer hesitated. The truth was, part of him wanted you there. He always felt better with you around, your presence grounding him in ways he couldn’t explain. But today, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being around anyone, even you. Not when he felt so close to snapping at the slightest thing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Maybe… I just need some space right now.”

Your understanding was immediate, though he could hear the slight tinge of hurt in your voice. “Okay, I get it. Just know I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah,” Spencer muttered, closing his eyes and trying to push away the guilt and frustration swirling inside him. “Thanks, Y/N.”

When the call ended, Spencer sat in the quiet of his apartment, feeling the weight of his bad day pressing down on him. He knew he should tell you what was going on, but the shame and embarrassment kept him silent. He wanted to feel better, wanted to stop snapping at the people he cared about, but today everything felt… wrong.

—

Rossi stood in Strauss’s office, the door closed behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a frustrated expression. He had been simmering over this decision for days now, but he knew he had to say something. It was eating at him.

“You know, Erin, I think you went too far this time,” Rossi said, his voice low but firm. “Having Spencer drug tested every month? It’s uncalled for. The kid’s been clean for years now. He’s proven himself.”

Strauss didn’t look up from the file in front of her, her expression unreadable. “David, you of all people should understand why this is necessary.”

“I told you in confidence,” Rossi said, stepping closer to her desk, his voice gaining an edge. “Because of us. Not so you could turn around and use it against him. You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Strauss finally lifted her eyes to meet his, her expression calm and collected. “I’m trying to protect her.”

Rossi let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re punishing him for something that hasn’t even happened. He hasn’t slipped up, and I don’t think he will. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”

“He’s a liability,” Strauss said firmly, not backing down. “And I’m not going to sit by and wait for him to make a mistake that costs us all more than we’re willing to pay.”

Rossi clenched his jaw, frustrated by her unwillingness to see reason. “You’re not protecting her or the Bureau, Erin. You’re making it harder for him to succeed. You’re putting a target on his back.”

Strauss crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. “Sometimes, David, tough decisions have to be made. Whether or not you agree with them.”

Rossi sighed, knowing the conversation was hitting a dead end. “I just hope you realize what you’re doing before it’s too late.” He gave her one final look, disappointed but unsurprised, before turning on his heel and leaving her office, the tension lingering long after he was gone.

—

Spencer stood there, looking so tired and worn down, and your heart clenched at the sight of him. You could tell he was struggling, and the weight of whatever was on his mind was pressing heavily on his shoulders. You stepped closer, gently touching his arm.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your voice full of concern.

He looked at you, his gaze softened by exhaustion, and he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry for how I was yesterday… I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You shook your head, stepping aside to let him in, your hand reaching for his as you pulled him through the door. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. But what’s going on? You’ve been so quiet. I’ve been worried.”

He gave a small nod, his eyes downcast as he stepped into your apartment, letting the warmth of your presence surround him. You led him to the couch, and he collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension that had built there.

“I… I just had a really hard day,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Work stuff. It’s… it’s complicated, and I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Your concern deepened, but you didn’t want to push him. You could see in his eyes that he was holding something back, something that was clearly eating at him, but if he wasn’t ready to share, you would respect that. You just wanted to be there for him, however he needed.

You nodded softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it,” you said gently. “But I’m here. And if you want to just… be, we can do that too.”

Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at your words, and he let out a small breath, his fingers squeezing yours tightly as if holding on to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I just… I just want to be with you,” he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours, the vulnerability in them breaking your heart. “I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be here with you.”

You gave him a gentle smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Then we’ll just be,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes as you kissed him, letting out a long, shaky breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. For a long moment, you just held him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured after a while, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it clear. “For being here.”

You stroked his hair softly, your heart full of love for the man in your arms. “Always, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m always here.” 

And though the weight of his hidden struggles lingered in the air, for now, it was enough to just be together.

The laughter that filled the room later was like music, and for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt light again. You were both sprawled out on the couch, popcorn forgotten as Spencer had successfully wrestled you under him, his hands expertly tickling your sides. Your uncontrollable giggles filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, trying to bat his hands away.

“Spence!” you squealed, your voice rising in playful desperation. “Stop! I can’t—” 

He laughed, his own amusement bubbling up as he leaned down, pressing quick, ticklish kisses along your neck and cheeks, making you squirm even more.

“What?” he teased, pretending not to hear you, his voice lighthearted and mischievous. “Can’t hear you over all this squawking in my ear!”

Your laughter came out in breathless bursts, and you managed to shove at his chest lightly, still giggling as he finally gave you a moment to catch your breath. Spencer grinned down at you, his face flushed from laughter, his earlier heaviness completely gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes.

"Truce?" you gasped, still trying to stop your own giggles, your hands grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself.

Spencer tilted his head, pretending to think it over for a moment before nodding, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Alright. Truce. But only because you begged so nicely.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled up at him, your heart swelling at how much lighter and carefree he seemed now. Whatever weight he had been carrying earlier was gone, at least for the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you had been the one to help lift it. 

He stayed on top of you for a moment longer, both of you catching your breath, the warmth of his body comforting against yours. He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly, his voice gentle as he murmured, “You always know how to make me feel better.”

You smiled up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “I just like seeing you happy,” you said softly. “You deserve it.”

For a moment, Spencer didn’t say anything, just looking at you with a kind of quiet admiration that made your heart flutter. Then, with a playful smirk, he rolled off you, tugging you back up to sit in his lap. “Alright, I’ll stop tickling you,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “for now.”

You glared and pointed your finger in his face, making him cross his eyes like a dork. “Tickle me again, and I’ll... I’ll…”

“Yeah? Go on, honey,” he teased, his smirk growing wider as his hands continued to rub your hips.

Flustered by his confidence, you blurted, “I’ll spit on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that the best you got?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as your eyes locked on his. “Careful, baby… sounds like you might actually want that.”

Spencer's smirk faltered slightly, his eyes widening in surprise before he laughed nervously. You could feel the shift in energy between you, the playful banter taking on a new, teasing intensity.

“Wha—no,” he stammered, trying to recover, but the playful glint in your eyes had him flustered.

You leaned in closer, your hands resting on his chest as you whispered in a low, sultry tone, “Mmm, you sure about that?”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands instinctively tightening on your hips as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re… you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he finally managed to say, his voice a little breathless, but there was no hiding the way his body reacted to your proximity.

You grinned, feeling empowered by the effect you had on him. “And it’s working,” you teased, your lips brushing against his ear as you gently let your hips grind on his.

Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to yours, filled with affection and playful frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You giggled, sitting up straight and giving him a satisfied look. “Maybe,” you said sweetly, “but you like it.”

He sighed dramatically, still flustered but clearly loving every second of your teasing. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Spencer’s hands slipped from your hips, wrapping around your waist instead as he pulled you closer. “But if you threaten me with spitting again,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, “I might have to get you back.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

He smirked, leaning in closer so his lips were just inches from yours. “I guess you’ll have to find out,” he murmured before kissing you deeply, the playfulness of the moment fading into something more tender and intimate.

“You want to show me?” you whispered against his lips, nipping softly at Spencer’s lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine.

He groaned in response, the sharp, sweet pain igniting something inside him. But as much as the dirty talk stirred him, he hesitated. Spencer wasn’t as experienced as his playful words suggested, even though he'd picked up more than a few lines from the books he'd read — including a couple of romance novels that had taught him a thing or two.

Still, feeling the heat between you, Spencer nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This one wasn’t gentle or tentative, but filled with passion, tongues meeting, teeth grazing lips, and it set off a fire in both of your bellies. 

Your hands gripped at his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved up your sides, exploring every inch of you, unsure but eager. The kiss deepened, both of you giving in to the moment, feeling the intensity grow between you. It was uncharted territory for him, but he was more than willing to learn with you.

Feeling bold, Spencer let his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing tentatively. The whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers dug into your flesh sent a surge of pride through him. He was still a little unsure, but that reaction told him he was on the right track.

But then you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Is this what I get? I might have to threaten you more often…”

Something primal seemed to take over Spencer at your teasing words, and before he knew it, his hand came down in a sharp, quick slap against your ass. The sound echoed around the room, but it was your loud, unrestrained moan that had his pulse racing.

His eyes widened, both with shock at his own actions and the reaction it had caused. “You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of curiosity and raw desire, unable to believe what had just happened — and how much it seemed to affect both of you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice husky with need. “I do.”

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he might have just unlocked something new between the two of you — something he was more than ready to explore.

Spencer pulled you back in, capturing your lips in an even deeper kiss, his tongue teasing yours while his hand came down with another sharp slap to your ass. The moan that left your mouth vibrated against his, making his head spin as you ground down on his growing bulge, the heat between you two intensifying by the second.

You both moved together in a desperate, frenzied rhythm, as if the space between your bodies was too much to bear. The need for more overwhelmed both of you, pushing the tension higher, the air thick with desire.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he let out little grunts and groans, lost in the sensation. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he threw his head back, pulling you down harder into him, his whole body shuddering as he finished with a deep, guttural groan. 

Panting heavily, his fingers still dug into your hips, he slowly came back down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. The heat between you still simmered, but the moment of release left both of you tingling and a little dazed, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment.

You looked down at him with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him just a little. "Spence... did you just come in your pants?"

Still breathing heavily, he nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yup."

You let out a laugh, shifting slightly on his lap, causing him to groan at the sudden movement against his sensitive cock. "Oops, sorry, baby," you said with a mischievous grin, sitting back on his thighs. "I didn't realize you were so close."

Spencer leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing. The angle gave you a perfect view of his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but admire how utterly spent—and gorgeous—he looked in that moment. "I didn't either," he admitted with a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Lots of pent-up emotions, huh?" you teased, letting your finger trail lightly over the wet spot on his pants. He twitched at the sensation, quickly grabbing your wrist and gently pushing your hand away. He lifted his head, playfully glaring at you, though there was no malice in his gaze, only affection.

"Not funny," he muttered, trying to stifle a smile.

You giggled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, unable to resist teasing him one last time. "Maybe not for you... but I find it pretty adorable."

“Adorable? Last time you said it was hot,” Spencer pouted, his expression turning to one of mortification as the realization hit him. “Oh my god, I’ve done this twice. Maybe I am a virgin.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart melting for him. Leaning in, you kissed him gently, hoping to ease his mind and distract him from his embarrassment. “It’s hot and adorable, Spence,” you whispered against his lips, your tone soft and reassuring. “And, trust me, very flattering.”

But Spencer still looked unsure, his brows knitting together in uncertainty. You could see his mind working, trying to make sense of it, and you knew he wasn’t fully convinced just yet.

With a sultry smile, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Do you want to see how hot I find it? How hot I find you?” Your voice dripped with desire, and Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he nodded dumbly, ready and willing to follow your lead.

You took his hand in yours, guiding it down the front of your sleep shorts, pressing his fingers against the undeniable evidence of your arousal. His eyes widened even more as he felt just how wet you were for him, his lips parting in a quiet gasp.

“That’s how much I liked it,” you whispered, watching his reaction closely. Spencer’s mouth fell open, his fingers instinctively pressing deeper, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

“Oh wow, wow, you're really wet,” Spencer said in awe, his voice full of innocent surprise.

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you ground down on his hand. “I know, baby. You really turn me on.”

His eyes widened even more, his mouth dropping open as he took in the full extent of your arousal. “No, you’re soaking my hand, darling,” he murmured, the way he said that sending shivers down your spine.

A moan slipped from your lips as you instinctively ground down on his fingers, seeking more friction. “Oh fuck,” Spencer breathed, his eyes dark with lust. “Are you riding my hand?”

You nodded, dazed and overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. His fingers stayed inside, moving ever so slightly as you rocked your hips, riding him. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, and the sound of his breathless voice only made you want more.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back and forth between your face and where his hand disappeared into your shorts, mesmerized by the sight and the sounds you were making. "I can't believe I'm making you feel this good," he whispered, more to himself than to you, the awe in his voice making you shudder in delight.

“Spence, this feels so good, my god, but… my knees are cramping,” you complained breathlessly, your body trembling from the sensation.

Without missing a beat, Spencer immediately pulled his hand away, giving you the space to move. You let out a soft whine at the sudden loss, and he smirked down at you. “Well, do you want to move or not?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed off his lap and sprawled out on the couch, looking up at him expectantly. You were ready for whatever came next, your body still humming with anticipation. But Spencer did something completely unexpected.

Instead of wiping his hand off, as you had assumed he would, you watched as his gaze flickered down to the wetness covering his fingers. His brows furrowed slightly in curiosity, as if he were studying it. Before you could say anything, Spencer did the unfathomable—he brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sliding them past his lips.

A deep, low moan escaped him as he tasted you, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he were savoring the taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, absolutely floored by the sight. Your heart raced, heat rushing through your body as you watched him, your own arousal building even higher. You couldn’t believe how much this innocent man was making you lose control.

“Fuck,” Spencer murmured when he finally pulled his now-clean fingers from his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste amazing.”

The look on your face must have been one of pure shock because Spencer quickly followed up with a concerned, “Was that okay?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Shut up right now and kiss me,” you said, your voice urgent and breathless.

Without missing a beat, Spencer leaned down, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was electric, fueled by the raw intensity of the moment. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, which only made you hungrier for him. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Spencer let out a low groan as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this level of desire, but with Spencer, everything felt heightened, like every touch and every kiss was sending shockwaves through you.

This was the filthiest, sloppiest, most passionate kiss either of you had ever shared with anyone. The intensity was palpable, your bodies pressed together so tightly it felt as though there wasn’t enough room in the world to contain the desire between you. You couldn’t get enough, your hands tugging at Spencer’s hair, sliding under his shirt to scratch his back, pinching his nipples, reveling in the way he responded—moaning into your mouth, his own hands gripping you with a hunger that mirrored yours.

It was hard to tell how long you kissed—minutes or hours, time seemed to blur—but eventually, Spencer pulled back, gasping for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of your hair spread out like a halo on the couch, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes darkened with lust and, though neither of you had said it yet, a glimmer of what could only be described as love.

“Darling,” he panted, his voice rough and thick with need, “can we go to your bed? I want to treat you this time.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were up in a flash, pulling your beautiful, sweet boyfriend with you, his hand wrapped in yours as you rushed toward your bedroom. You’d never moved so fast in your life, eager for what was to come, for the pleasure he promised.

Once in the bedroom, Spencer's hands wasted no time. He immediately tugged your shorts and underwear down, discarding them in a flash before pulling off your shirt with the same eagerness, leaving you completely bare before him. His eyes roamed over you with pure admiration, awe evident in every part of his expression.

“Did you get more beautiful?” he asked breathlessly, the sincerity of the compliment making you feel flushed.

You playfully slapped his chest, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up,” you teased, leaning up to kiss him as your hands found the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. But just as you reached for his pants, Spencer gently pushed you back down onto the bed.

“This is about you, my love.”

The words hung in the air, sweet and heavy with meaning. My love. It was new, but it felt right—natural, even. Before you could respond, Spencer pushed you onto the bed and lowered himself to your chest, his lips closing around one of your nipples. His mouth was soft, tender, at first, but then you felt his teeth sink in, sharp enough to make you gasp, a promise of the mark he was leaving behind.

Your back arched, pressing your body further into him, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you lost yourself in the feel of him—of his mouth, his hands, his love.

Spencer’s mouth continued its exploration, alternating between your breasts and sending warm pulses of pleasure through your body. His attention to detail was incredible, every touch, every kiss feeling like a deliberate act of worship. He took his time, caressing you as though you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed you, a mixture of tenderness and building desire swirling inside.

When his soft kisses finally began to descend down your stomach, a light giggle escaped your lips—it tickled, playful and gentle. But that laughter vanished the moment his lips found your inner thigh, sucking a mark into your sensitive skin. Spencer’s large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them open wide for him, his touch reverent but firm.

“Spen—Spencer,” you panted, glancing down at him. His big, beautiful brown eyes met yours, glazed with determination and lust, but also something tender. He kept his gaze locked on you as he kissed along your thigh, making your breath hitch. "Have you... done this before?"

He paused, releasing your thigh from his mouth with a small, almost playful pop. “No,” he admitted honestly, “but I have read plenty about the acts of cunnilingus, and I think I will be able to satisfy you. As long as you communicate with me, okay?”

The honesty in his voice, the seriousness of his intent, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Spencer reached for one of your hands, which had been gripping the sheets so tightly. He held it gently, reassuring you, grounding you. You nodded eagerly, your breath coming out in shallow pants, giving him permission to continue.

And without further hesitation, Spencer dove back in, his kisses now dangerously close to your core. The anticipation was electrifying, and you could already tell—he was going to be good at this. Very good.

And good he was. The second Spencer's tongue touched you, it was like fireworks exploded behind your eyes, sending electricity shooting through your veins. The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed you, especially when you heard his voice, low and mumbled against you. 

“Eyes on me,” he said, the words vibrating against you.

You forced your eyes open and looked down, the sight nearly sending you over the edge. Spencer, his head buried between your legs, met your gaze with intense eye contact as his tongue continued to explore you. The sensation, paired with the way he moaned into you, made your whole body tremble. It was impossible to deny how much he enjoyed it, the way he tasted you straight from the source, his pleasure evident in every sound and movement.

As phenomenal as it was, you still craved more stimulation. And Spencer had asked you to communicate, so you squeezed his hand, your voice shaky. “Baby?”

He hummed into you, the vibration making you whine and twitch involuntarily. “Can you... unghh—can you find the clit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused but also eager to show that his knowledge wasn’t just theoretical. Almost immediately, he hit the target, causing your body to jerk at the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Go–good,” you gasped, your voice thick with need. “Now suck.”

And he did.

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. The second you asked, he focused his attention on your clit, enveloping it gently between his lips. A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating against you as he began to suck softly, testing the waters. Your body jolted at the sensation, your back arching as an involuntary gasp tore through you.

"Yes, just like that..." you whispered breathlessly, your grip tightening on his hand, the other fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was overwhelming in the best way, and Spencer wasn’t just doing well—he was doing phenomenally. His tongue flicked and swirled as if with practiced precision, the moans he let out making everything ten times more intense.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips was bringing you higher, faster. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed, and the connection between you both in this moment felt almost sacred.

Your legs began to tremble, and your breathing grew more erratic. "Spence, I’m—oh my god, I'm so close," you whimpered, your hand instinctively moving to tangle in his hair, gripping tight as the pleasure threatened to push you over the edge.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes still locked onto yours, unwavering, making the moment even more intense. His grip on your hand tightened as if encouraging you to let go, to surrender to the pleasure completely.

And when his tongue applied just the right amount of pressure, his lips sucking gently but firmly on your clit, that tension finally snapped. Your body convulsed, a guttural moan escaping you as the orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

"That's it," Spencer murmured, his voice low and raspy, sounding both proud and a little in awe as he watched you unravel under him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, looking down at him with a dazed smile. He hadn't pulled away yet, still gently caressing your sensitive skin with the softest of kisses, making sure you were coming down from your high as gently as possible.

“Spencer...” you managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of disbelief and pure satisfaction. You hadn’t thought it possible, but he had completely exceeded your expectations.

He grinned up at you, his mouth still glistening with evidence of your release. “I guess the reading paid off, huh?” he teased, his voice full of affection and just a hint of smugness.

You chuckled weakly, your whole body still tingling with aftershocks. "Oh, it definitely paid off..."

“Earth to Y/N,” Spencer teased, coming up beside you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath tickled your skin as he added with a soft laugh, “Are you alright?”

You blinked out of your daze, still recovering from the incredible experience, and turned to look at him with wide, astonished eyes. “Anytime you need a study buddy," you said, your voice filled with awe, "anytime, you call me."

Spencer chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a wink.

After you returned to earth, Spencer gently helped you up and led you to the bathroom, drawing a warm, soothing bath. He carefully eased you both into the tub, your back resting against his chest, the comforting warmth of the water surrounding you. The intimacy of the moment was in the simplicity of it—just the two of you, cocooned in the peaceful, quiet space.

As you both settled in, the conversation flowed naturally, a mix of everything and nothing. Spencer told you more details about his extensive schooling, sharing amusing stories about his early university days, while you, in turn, told him about how you ended up adopting Poof, your beloved cat.

At one point, Spencer furrowed his brow, realizing something. “Speaking of, where is Poof?” he asked, looking around as if your mischievous cat might suddenly appear. “I feel like I haven’t seen him in a while.”

You giggled, your hand absently stroking Spencer's leg beneath the water as you explained. “Oh, he’s become the building cat," you said with affection in your voice. "The townhouses are connected by fire escapes in the back, and Poof likes to explore. He moves back and forth between the different houses. I guess you’ve just been missing him.”

Spencer chuckled softly, resting his chin on your shoulder, clearly intrigued. “A little adventurer, huh? Well, hopefully, I’ll catch him in action one of these days.”

You smiled, leaning back more into him, feeling completely at ease as the two of you basked in the comfortable rhythm of your conversation and the quiet warmth of the water.

—

Spencer sat stiffly in the chair across from Chief Strauss’ desk, his hands folded in his lap as he waited for whatever new torment she had in store for him. He was sure his tests were clean, they always were. But he also knew Strauss had been gunning for him for years now, and this meeting was likely just another way to shake him down, to keep him on edge.

As he stared at the piles of neatly stacked papers on her desk, Strauss held up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she answered an incoming call. Spencer huffed internally, trying to push down the frustration bubbling up inside him. But when she answered the phone, something about her tone caught his attention.

"Chief Strauss," she said, her voice all business at first, but then, to Spencer’s shock, a smile broke out across her face. "Oh, hi, Red, how are you, dear?"

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing slightly. Red? It couldn’t be…could it? His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of it. The name, the affectionate tone—it sounded eerily similar to the nickname you had mentioned your aunt called you. But that was just a coincidence, right? 

Strauss continued her conversation, oblivious to Spencer’s sudden change in demeanor. "Yes, yes, of course. I’ll make sure it gets done. Oh, and how is little Poof doing?"

Spencer's heart stopped. Poof? No. There was no way this could be a coincidence now. His mind raced as he pieced it together. Red … Poof …Your aunt. His eyes widened in realization, but he kept his face neutral, trying not to betray the wave of shock crashing over him.

Strauss glanced at him briefly as she continued her conversation, still smiling. Spencer's thoughts were spinning. Was your aunt Erin Strauss?

Spencer was spiraling, his mind whirling with disbelief as Chief Strauss hung up the phone, turning her attention back to him. He was trying to maintain composure, but it was like everything around him was crumbling. She had called you Red. She had mentioned Poof. It was all too much.

“So, Reid,” Strauss began, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her. Her tone shifted back to business. “How have you been managing? With the recovery, I mean. I understand the tests have been clean, but I want to know how you’re really doing.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. His nerves were already shot, and now with this revelation about you weighing on him, he couldn’t hold back. His voice came out sharper than he intended.

“Why does it even matter?” Spencer snapped, glaring at her. “You’ve been waiting for me to slip up, to fail. You never believed in my recovery from the start.”

Strauss raised an eyebrow, her expression hardening. "I’m trying to protect you, Reid, as much as I’m trying to protect others from you."

Spencer's stomach twisted. “Protect me? From what exactly? You’ve been gunning for me ever since I admitted to my addiction. You hate me.” His voice shook, his frustration bubbling over.

Strauss took a deep breath, her face softening, but her words cut deep. "I don’t hate you, Spencer. But I know what addiction can do to a person, to a family."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, his voice thick with suspicion. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"My sister and her husband," Strauss said, her voice wavering slightly, "they died from drugs. Overdosed. My niece is an addict too, lost to us."

Spencer felt a chill wash over him, and his voice dropped as he asked, "Y/N’s parents?"

Strauss swallowed thickly, nodding, her eyes momentarily flicking away from his. "Yes. And do you think I’m going to stand by and watch her get hurt again? Watch another person she cares about spiral into that life?" Her gaze locked back onto Spencer’s, now filled with a fierce determination. "No, Spencer. I’m not going to let you ruin her life like her father did."

The words hit Spencer like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. His heart raced, anger and guilt twisting together painfully in his chest. This threat—Strauss’s belief that he was a danger to you, that his history with addiction made him a risk—was like a punch to the gut.

"I’m not him," Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. "I’m not going to hurt her."

Strauss’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "I hope you’re right, Reid. But I can’t afford to take chances when it comes to her. Not after everything she’s been through. So, yes, the drug tests stay. And if I see one misstep, I won’t hesitate to remove you from this team, or from her life."

Spencer felt his anger boil over, his fists clenched as he leaned forward in the chair. “You can’t stop me from seeing her, we’re both adults. You have no right to interfere.”

Strauss leaned back in her chair, calm in the face of his anger. Her voice was low, but it cut through the room with precision. “Does she know about your addiction, Spencer?”

The question hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, and Spencer froze. His face told her everything she needed to know—he hadn’t told you. 

Strauss’s lips curled slightly, not in triumph but in grim acknowledgment. “Then you better not mess up,” she said, her voice cold and menacing.

Spencer stood up abruptly, the air feeling suffocating in her office. He was furious—not just with Strauss, but with himself. He knew he’d been holding something back from you, just as you had from him. He hadn’t told you about his past, hadn’t opened up about his addiction, the demons he fought to keep buried. And now he was in this twisted position, where your aunt knew more about him than you did.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

He stormed out of Strauss’s office, his heart racing, feeling cornered in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was upset that you hadn’t told him who your aunt was, hadn’t trusted him with that part of your life. But deep down, he knew he was no better. He had held back too—out of fear, out of shame.

As he left the building and stepped out into the cold air, Spencer’s mind whirled. He had to talk to you. He had to come clean before everything unraveled. You both deserved the truth.

—

You knocked on Spencer’s door that evening, a bottle of wine tucked under your arm and a loaf of fresh French bread in your hand. You’d spent the afternoon preparing his favorite pasta dish, hoping for a quiet, cozy night together after the busy week you both had. When Spencer opened the door, you gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

But the look on Spencer’s face made your heart drop. His eyes were dark, his expression serious. The atmosphere was heavy, and you could tell immediately that something was wrong. 

“When were you going to tell me that Strauss is your aunt?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. 

You froze, the smile fading from your face. “What?”

“I found out today,” Spencer continued, stepping aside to let you in but not looking at you. “From her, actually. I thought... I thought we were being honest with each other.”

You sighed, setting down the wine and bread on his kitchen counter, turning to face him. “Spence, I was going to tell you. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation that could make this better, that could ease the confusion and frustration swirling in his mind.

You ran a hand through your hair, fidgeting slightly. “Scared because you work for her. I didn’t want things to get complicated or messy between you two. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping it from you on purpose.”

Spencer’s face softened slightly as he processed your words, but he still didn’t seem fully convinced. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me, though? I wouldn’t have cared about who your aunt is, I care about you.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer to him, reaching for his hands. “I know, Spencer. I know. I just… I didn’t want things to get weird at work for you. And honestly, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’ve been afraid of how it might change things, I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a little as he listened to your explanation. He squeezed your hands, a silent gesture of understanding. He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the hesitation that wasn’t born out of deceit but out of fear of complicating things for both of you. 

“I get it,” Spencer said softly after a moment. “I just… I don’t want us to keep things from each other. It’s important to me that we’re open.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands back. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Spencer smiled slightly, his frustration easing. He let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his body. For a moment, he considered telling you about his past—about the addiction, the drug tests, everything that Strauss had thrown at him earlier. But when he looked into your eyes, remembering the way you spoke about your family, the raw pain in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He didn’t want to burden you with it, not when things were finally starting to feel right between you.

“Let’s just... enjoy dinner,” Spencer finally said, a small smile playing on his lips as he pulled you closer into a hug. “I’m sorry for bringing it up like that. I should’ve waited.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face in his chest. “No, I’m glad you did. I don’t want to keep anything from you either.”

You both held each other for a moment longer, letting the tension fade as the warmth of your embrace brought back a sense of normalcy. Spencer kissed the top of your head before stepping back and heading into the kitchen, ready to move forward, even if some things were still left unsaid—for now.

—

Just a few weeks later, Spencer finally had a full weekend off, he decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little getaway. He packed up everything—yourself, Poof, and plenty of supplies—and whisked you away to a cozy Airbnb nestled by the lake. 

You could hardly contain your excitement, bubbling over at the thought of spending uninterrupted time with your two favorite guys. Spencer had asked you to drive while he took charge of navigation, and the car ride was nothing short of a delight. 

“Turn left here, darling,” Spencer instructed with an air of confidence.

"Are you sure it’s not right?" you teased, feigning confusion as you gripped the wheel.

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’m positive. I do have an eidetic memory, you know.”

“Well, if we get lost, I’m holding that memory of yours accountable!” you shot back playfully, a smile spreading across both your faces.

When you finally pulled up to the lake house, you couldn't help but gasp. It was picturesque—a beautiful, quaint cabin surrounded by towering trees, with the glistening lake stretching out in the background. 

The look of pride on Spencer’s face at your reaction made your heart swell. You were completely and utterly in love. As you stood there, taking in the stunning view and the sheer thoughtfulness of his planning, you felt like this weekend was the right moment to finally tell him how you truly felt.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Spencer moved seamlessly through the cozy kitchen, putting together the perfect comfort meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. Poof danced happily around your feet, always at the ready for any fallen scraps. The two of you playfully bumped hips, stole soup-covered kisses, and teased each other in the warm glow of the cabin’s lights.

After dinner, which was full of laughter and mock arguments over who could make the better grilled cheese, you cleared the table together, setting up a chessboard for a battle of wits. You knew Spencer was a prodigy, but still, you had hope. The first few rounds were... well, an obvious defeat. But then, to your surprise, you managed to win. Once. Twice. And then three times in a row! What you didn’t know was that Spencer was letting you win, his resolve crumbling at the sight of your frustrated pout. He’d pretend to mull over a move for far longer than needed, before “accidentally” making a poor choice that would lead to your victory.

Eventually, you’d had enough of the mental sparring, and Spencer’s kisses grew softer and deeper. Together, you moved outside to the wooden deck, wrapped up under a blanket, the stars reflecting in the lake’s glassy surface. The night air was crisp and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing your cheeks as you cuddled closer. 

Spencer pointed upward, tracing his finger along the sky, excitedly talking about constellations, their names, and the myths behind them. But you weren’t looking at the stars—your eyes were on him, captivated by the way his face glowed in the moonlight, his passion lighting up every word he spoke.

Without thinking, feeling overwhelmed by the moment and the deep love that filled your chest, you whispered, “I love you.”

The words felt like they hung in the air, sparkling and true under the canopy of stars.

Spencer’s face lit up as he tilted down toward you, and in that moment, it seemed as if the stars had all come to rest in his eyes, twinkling brightly with wonder and adoration. His voice was soft but filled with an almost childlike excitement, the kind reserved for a Christmas morning surprise, “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, voice steady, your gaze never wavering from his, allowing the truth of your feelings to shine through. 

He swallowed, searching your eyes as if trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. “You love me?” he asked again, needing the confirmation, the words sounding so surreal to him.

“I love you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you declared, each word measured and intentional, and you watched as joy transformed his features, his eyes closing briefly in overwhelming happiness.

The next thing you felt was Spencer’s lips on yours, pressing gently at first, the kiss filled with all the tenderness and unspoken words you’d both kept hidden until now. It was sweet, slow, and beautiful, and you could feel Spencer trembling slightly, as if holding back everything he wanted to say with his lips alone. He pulled back just a breath, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispered with a trembling smile, “I love you too.”

And then he dove back in for more—kisses deeper, breaths heavier. Your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers tracing the contours of your back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. What started as slow and sweet quickly turned heated, and Spencer’s kisses grew hungrier, his tongue tasting every part of your mouth, his hands wandering further down.

It was only when you felt the cool night air on your exposed skin that you giggled and gently pulled back, breathing heavily against his lips. “We’re outside, baby,” you murmured, your voice a mix of breathlessness and warning.

Spencer hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest, and with a playful smirk, he pulled you to your feet, not letting your lips part from his. “Then we’d better get inside,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the promise of more lingering in the air as he led you toward the warmth of the cabin, hands intertwined, the night just beginning.

As you were guided along by Spencer's eager hand, your laughter filled the small cabin, echoing off the wooden beams of the cozy bedroom. The room itself was warm, glowing with the soft hues of amber light from the fireplace, its crackling flames adding to the perfect atmosphere. The bed looked irresistibly inviting, its blankets perfectly rumpled in a way that made you want to dive right in. But what really made the room perfect was Spencer—his face lighting up in a way you’d rarely seen before, his exaggerated wink playful and filled with the purest joy. 

When Spencer sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arms out for you, you wasted no time stepping into his embrace, your body molding perfectly into the space between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning into the warmth of him. He buried his face in your chest, his voice muffled but filled with emotion as he mumbled, “I love you so much.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head as you teased softly, “I love you more.”

Spencer shook his head immediately, hair brushing your chin and sending little shivers down your spine. “Not possible,” he declared, his voice firm, like he was making a statement that was undeniable.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby,” you taunted lightly, trying to stifle the grin that was spreading across your face. But Spencer pulled back, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel like the only person in the world. 

A look of challenge danced across his features, his brows lifting as he quirked a smirk at you. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, voice deepening with a teasing edge.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing, a playful glint in your eyes. And in a flash, Spencer’s face morphed into one of mischievous determination. “Oh, you little—” he began, his voice dripping with affectionate frustration as he quickly flipped your positions, pushing you back onto the bed and towering over you.

“Spencer!” you squealed in laughter, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him as he tossed his shirt aside without a second thought, revealing his smooth chest. He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head, and his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Shh,” he whispered with a smirk, “I have to show you how much I love you.” And with those words, you knew that every second of this weekend together would be filled with a love so fierce, so genuine, that it was going to be impossible not to fall for him all over again.

Spencer's mouth moved eagerly down your neck, his lips trailing soft, warm kisses that made your skin tingle in their wake. He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it gently between his teeth, and the sensation drew a light, breathy moan from you, your back arching ever so slightly into him. The sound seemed to spur him on, and he continued his descent, pausing to suck gently on your pulse point as his hands explored your sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist.

When his hands found the hem of your top, he slowly pushed it upward, his palms grazing your ribs, sending shivers through you. You let out a sigh, already feeling yourself melt under his touch, and obediently raised your arms so he could remove the fabric entirely, leaving you bare from the waist up. Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, and you could see the way his lips parted slightly as he took you in, your form illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

“No bra?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice, though his gaze was nothing short of reverent as it roved over your body. One brow quirked up in curiosity, his lips twitching in a smirk.

You laughed, a breathy, contented sound, shrugging as you met his gaze. “I’m on vacation.”

Spencer's smirk widened, and he nosed his way down between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. His lips brushed against your skin in a whisper of a kiss. “I knew it was a good idea bringing you here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with want and affection. 

And as he continued his exploration of your body with his mouth and hands, you were filled with warmth and a sense of belonging, knowing that this was exactly where you were meant to be—with him.

The sensation of Spencer’s mouth on your skin sent sparks throughout your body, your breath hitching as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking gently. You arched your back instinctively, pressing yourself closer to his mouth, wanting more, needing more. He hummed contentedly, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure right through you. 

His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching between flicking and gentle sucking that had you gripping the sheets beneath you, your fingers twisting into the soft fabric as your eyes fluttered shut. Every movement was slow, deliberate, and filled with devotion, as if he was determined to savor every second of your pleasure. 

As he worshiped your breast, his free hand trailed down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, fingers feather-light against your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of your shorts, and when his fingers brushed the waistband, your hips bucked upward, desperate for more contact. 

Spencer’s lips left your breast with a soft pop, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered against your skin, “You taste so good... I could do this forever.”

His words, filled with awe and passion, made you moan in response, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you. And you didn't want him to stop; you wanted every touch, every kiss, every second of his attention to be on you, completely and utterly lost in the moment together.

Spencer’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if he was trying to pour all the love he felt into every brush and caress. You sighed into his mouth, your own hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. And then, as if reading your mind, you felt his hand venture downward, fingers slipping under the waistband of your bottoms, and you gasped at the intimate touch, the sensation so electric it made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed against your lips, his voice heavy with awe and desire. “You’re so wet.”

The sound of his voice saying those words sent a shiver straight through your core, and you whined softly, squirming under his touch, desperate for more. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking his fingers, trying to guide him where you needed him most. “Spence, baby,” you whined again, your voice breathy and pleading as you pressed kisses to his jaw, “please...”

His eyes met yours, dark and full of hunger, and he gave you a little smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers teased just outside your lips, keeping you on the edge of wanting. “Let me hear you say it.”

Your breath hitched, his teasing making you ache with longing. “I need you, Spence,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I need you to touch me, please.” 

He hummed approvingly against your mouth, giving you a tender kiss before letting his fingers dip down, finally giving you what you so desperately craved. His touch was slow, deliberate, but his eyes never left yours, wanting to see every reaction as his fingers entered you.

You had anticipated the gentle, lingering touches from the last time, but Spencer had other plans. The tenderness was gone in an instant, replaced by an urgent, almost primal need to make you fall apart in his hands. The pace he set was relentless—his fingers moved in and out of you hard and fast, pushing deeper each time, and the sensation of his palm rubbing against you with every thrust was electrifying.

“Spencer—oh god!” you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you in a white-knuckled grasp. He wasn’t just touching you—he was consuming you, each movement of his hand pulling you closer and closer to the edge, a chaotic frenzy that left you breathless. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

His lips crashed against yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth, as he groaned into your mouth. “I love watching you like this,” he whispered against your lips before sucking on your lower one, his voice a low, heady drawl. “Falling apart on my fingers...”

The overwhelming sensation of Spencer’s fingers moving within you, the roughness of his palm pressing against you just right with every thrust, made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, desperate for more, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. You could barely speak, your words spilling out in choked, breathless cries. “Spencer—fuck—”

He leaned down, his mouth right at your ear, his breath hot as he spoke, voice dripping with husky intensity. “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded fervently, unable to form coherent words as you surrendered to the relentless pleasure. “Uh huh,” you managed to pant out, a whimper escaping your lips as your hips bucked wildly to meet the rhythm of his hand. 

His grin was wicked as he watched you unravel beneath him, knowing exactly how his touch was driving you to the edge. His fingers never faltered, pushing deeper and faster, and the friction of his palm rubbing against your sensitive skin was enough to make you tremble. “I can feel you tightening up around me,” he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust. “Are you gonna come for me, love?”

You let out a desperate, needy moan, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, and all you could do was nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut as the coil inside you tightened, ready to snap. “Yes, yes, I’m—I'm so close—”

You felt dizzy with the rush of it all, the world around you spinning as he drove you further toward that cliff of pure, euphoric release. You weren't sure how long you could hold out; your body felt on fire, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming. Each breath was a gasp, each moan louder than the last, and all you could think about was how badly you needed to fall over that edge. “Spence—I’m gonna—I can’t—”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough and laced with raw desire. “Let go, Y/N. Come for me, right now.” His pace quickened even further, and you knew you wouldn’t last a second longer. And you didn’t, completely unraveling at his words, your body arching up into his as waves of pleasure surged through you. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, and he never stopped, his fingers working you through the intensity of your release.

You trembled beneath him, your legs shaking as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you. Spencer looked at you, eyes filled with pride and wonder, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you coming undone because of him.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, gently caressing your trembling thighs as you caught your breath. He brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he cleaned them off with his tongue, tasting you again. The sight sent a renewed thrill through you, and all you could do was reach up and pull him down for a hungry kiss, needing to feel him against you, to taste yourself on his lips.

“Thought you couldn’t finish like that?” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful, recalling the first time he'd touched you like this.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head in pure bliss. “I didn’t think I could,” you admitted with a grin. Then, in a teasing tone, you added, “Have you been practicing? Should I be worried?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, and he quickly looked away, suddenly bashful. “N-nope. I just—uh, did some... research.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back another laugh as you saw the shyness in his eyes. “Research, huh?” you asked, leaning in closer. “What kind of research, Doctor? Did you... watch porn?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe... a little,” he admitted in a soft mumble. “But only to—to learn, for you,” he added quickly, his eyes meeting yours with genuine sincerity.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm, affectionate sound as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. “Oh, my sweet genius,” you teased gently, cupping his face and turning him back to look at you. “You did all that research just for me? That’s so... adorable.”

His eyes finally met yours, a mixture of pride and lingering shyness in his expression. “It worked, then?” he asked cautiously, almost as if he needed reassurance.

“Oh, it definitely worked,” you replied, grinning widely before leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “And for the record,” you murmured against his lips, “if you want to keep up the research, I’m all for it.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his earlier nerves melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “In that case,” he said, a playful gleam in his eye, “I have a few more things I could show you.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased back, raising an eyebrow and grinning. “Whatcha got for me, big boy?”

The nickname made him blush a deep pink, but he just rolled his eyes in that familiar, affectionate way before letting his hands roam down to your hips. With gentle care, he slipped off your bottoms, leaving you bare before him. You stayed silent, feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation flood through you as Spencer stood and began to remove the rest of his clothes.

The moment his pants came off, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening at the sight before you. “Spence?” you breathed out, your voice filled with both surprise and desire.

He grinned sheepishly, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the boyish excitement behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering something important, he reached down into his pants pocket and pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up with a charming smile and revealing a condom.

“I thought... I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady but filled with tenderness.

Your smile softened at his words, and you felt your heart swell with warmth and affection. “Yeah?” you replied sweetly, opening your arms to him. “I’m ready too.”

Spencer crawled back onto the bed, moving into your embrace, his body fitting perfectly against yours. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in closer, and with so much love in his voice, he whispered, “I want you to be my first.”

Your hand caressed his cheek, your thumb gently brushing against his soft skin. “Hopefully your last too,” you whispered back, sealing your words with a deep, passionate kiss, your bodies melting together under the glow of the soft lamplight.

“Do you need help putting the condom on, baby?” you asked, your voice sweet and full of kindness.

Spencer's cheeks flushed a light pink as he shook his head. “I, uh, I might have practiced,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart swelling with even more affection. “How is it possible to keep loving you more and more every second?” you asked, the sincerity clear in your voice.

Spencer chuckled, leaning in to kiss you deeply, letting his lips linger against yours for a moment before he pulled back. He focused intently on rolling the condom on, and you found the way he bit his tongue in concentration absolutely endearing. It was a small detail, but it only made you fall deeper for him. 

When he finished, he looked back up at you, his eyes filled with that gentle, earnest love you’d come to know so well. “How do you want me?” you asked softly, wanting to make this perfect for him, for both of you.

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and his hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth. “I want to see you, all of you.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, opening your legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, your bodies close and your hearts even closer.

As Spencer’s tip teased through your slick folds, you couldn't help but let out a high, keening sound, the sensation electrifying. Spencer’s own response was a low groan, the vibration of his voice adding to the intensity between you. 

His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to keep control, feeling how ready you were for him. “I’m... probably not going to last long,” he admitted, his voice laced with nervousness and excitement.

You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his gaze to yours, offering the softest smile. “I don’t care, Spence,” you said, your voice steady and full of love. “I just want to be with you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened even more, and he nodded, more to himself than to you, as if to reassure his own nerves. Slowly, carefully, he lined himself up, and with a gentle, deep breath, he began to push in. 

The feeling was overwhelming for both of you — he was entranced by the heat and tightness enveloping him, and you were spellbound by the fullness of having him inside you for the first time. You both let out soft gasps, your hands finding his as you squeezed tightly, tethering each other through the rush of emotion and sensation. 

He paused for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against yours as you both breathed together, as one. “You feel… unbelievable,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve never been this full,” you moaned, your voice thick with pleasure and awe at the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. 

“Shit, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his hips already making shallow, instinctual thrusts as he tried to hold himself back. “You can’t say that—” he panted, feeling your words shoot straight through him. “This will be over way too fast.” He looked down at you, the flush of his cheeks meeting the pink of his lips, and the way his face was contorted in bliss made you tighten around him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was falling apart so easily was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his control slipping as he pounded a fist into the pillow beside your head, burying his face against your neck for a moment. “Can I—can I move?” His breath was ragged and desperate. “I need to move. Please.”

You nodded frantically, needing him just as much, your hands sliding down his back to grip his hips, urging him to let go. “Fuck me, Spence,” you whispered right against his ear, your voice soft yet commanding. And that was all the permission he needed. 

He started moving, pulling out just enough to feel the drag of your walls before thrusting back in, his rhythm quick and needy. He was lost in the feeling of you, and each movement sent waves of pleasure through both of you, driving him closer to the edge with every stroke.

Spencer’s hips moved steadily, finding a rhythm that left both of you breathless. He surprised himself, really, the way his body instinctively knew how to take care of you, how to give you everything he could in each thrust. The intensity between you built, hot and fast, with every roll of his hips, with every gasp and moan that filled the small, cozy room.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, anchoring him to you like you never wanted to let go. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing his forehead against yours as the pleasure built between you, the closeness of your bodies only deepening the connection you felt. “I love you,” you whispered right into his ear, your voice trembling as you said the words that were so true and so filled with emotion it made your eyes sting with happy tears.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut at your words, his breath hitching before he responded, “I love you too, darling.” And then he kissed you—deeply, passionately, like you were his entire world and nothing else mattered. His lips moved with urgency, soft and fervent, as his pace quickened, thrusting deeper and more desperate, as if he was pouring everything he felt into you, wanting you to feel every bit of his love with each motion. The world outside seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in love and warmth and the sweetest kind of bliss.

Spencer's mind was racing, but finally, his instincts kicked in, sending him a signal—an idea of exactly what you needed. He wanted to make sure that you felt everything, that he was giving you all the pleasure he could. With a slight adjustment, he pulled back just enough to slide a hand down to where the two of you met, his fingers deftly finding your clit and rubbing in quick, steady circles.

“Oh!” you cried out, your whole body jolting with the sudden burst of pleasure. Your back arched high off the bed, presenting your chest to Spencer like a gift he was eager to receive. Without a moment’s hesitation, his mouth found your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking, the combination of sensations sending sparks down to your very core.

The feeling was overwhelming—Spencer’s hips driving into you in a rhythm that felt just right, his fingers working you to the brink, and his mouth hot and wet on your sensitive skin. Your moans filled the room, your fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as your entire body trembled, the edge of release so close you could almost taste it.

“Oh my god—oh, god!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to its peak. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” And then it hit—your core clenched around Spencer with such intensity that he nearly lost his rhythm, almost slipping out of you as your body reached its climax. 

And if Spencer thought you felt amazing before, now? Now, with your release, everything felt heightened, your walls fluttering around him, tightening and then loosening in waves that left him gasping. The slickness of your arousal made every thrust so much easier, so much more electric, that it sent shockwaves through his entire body. It wasn’t long before the overwhelming sensation tipped him over the edge, and his pace grew erratic, desperate, until he reached his own peak.

“Oh, fuck,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure as he thrust one last time, burying himself as deeply as he could. “Shit, baby, fuck, I—I’m coming,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut as he let go, every muscle in his body tensing before his release washed over him in shuddering waves.

His head fell to the crook of your neck as he finished, holding you close, both of you breathless and trembling in the aftershocks, your bodies slick with sweat and blissed out from the intensity of it all. Spencer stayed there, still buried inside of you, both of you just holding each other in the soft glow of the room, relishing the warmth, the closeness, the love.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blissful haze, wrapped in kisses, long cuddles, and moments of intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. Spencer shared his own stories, some quirky, some heartfelt, while you let him into corners of your past that had remained sealed for years.

One evening, as you were snuggled into his chest, the comforting scent of him surrounding you, you whispered something that had been tugging at the edges of your mind all weekend. “Aunt Erin started the nickname Red…” you murmured, your voice soft against the rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing. He said nothing but tightened his arms around you, letting you know he was listening. 

“But Mom and Dad called me Red too,” you continued, voice cracking slightly at the memories. “For Mom, it was a term of endearment, something she shared with her sister. It felt special... warm.” You paused, taking in a deep breath. “But for Dad… it was manipulative. He used it like some sort of charm, thinking if he called me by a special name, I’d forget everything—the pain, the anger—and welcome him back with open arms.” You swallowed, feeling the lump in your throat. “And then my sister... she started using it too. Only when she needed something—money, a place to crash. For a long time, it was tainted for me, a reminder of everything I wanted to forget.”

Spencer’s thumb stroked soothingly over your arm as you spoke, his quiet presence grounding you. “But you… you revived it for me,” you said finally, looking up into his warm, understanding eyes. “When you call me Red, it feels like it means something good again.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “I’ll always make sure it means something good. I promise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and contentment washing over you. In that little lakeside haven, all that existed was the two of you and the love you shared—everything else just melted away.

—

The trip was exactly what both of you needed. A chance to unwind, to just be together without the pressures of everyday life. When you returned the next day, Spencer was quick to ask if you could drop Poof off at your place and then come back to his apartment. He claimed it was just in case he got called away for a case in the middle of the night and needed to be near his things. But you knew better—it was really because he loved the way his sheets smelled like you when you were gone.

You didn’t argue, though. After all, the feeling was mutual, and you cherished any excuse to be wrapped up in Spencer’s space. So you made the trip back home, feeding Poof, and then promptly returned to his place to settle in for a relaxed night. The morning came too quickly, and he left for work with a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead and a spare key taped to the fridge with a note: “For whenever you need it. –S.”

Later, after you finally pulled yourself from the cozy bed and began to get ready for your day, you found yourself wandering around Spencer’s apartment, making coffee and searching for your favorite sweatshirt of his—the one that was ridiculously oversized, the one you loved to wrap yourself up in. Usually, it was draped over the back of the couch or hanging near the door, but today it was nowhere to be seen.

Thinking it might have just ended up back in his closet, you made your way there, rummaging through his neatly hung clothes. And there it was, folded on a shelf like it had been waiting for you. You reached for the familiar fabric, feeling the comforting softness in your hands, but as you moved it, something else caught your eye—a small box tucked away behind the stack of sweaters.

Your stomach twisted into knots when you read the label: Dilaudid

No. No, no, no. You felt your blood run cold, and for a moment, you were on autopilot. Hands trembling, you reached for the box and placed it on the bed, the world around you narrowing to just that single object. When you opened the lid, a flurry of papers greeted you—hospital discharge summaries, case files, rehab forms, and NA slips—all bearing Spencer’s name. Each one a piece of a puzzle you didn’t know existed, each one revealing a part of Spencer you had never seen before.

Your breathing grew shallow as you flipped through them, the weight of their contents heavy in your hands, in your heart. You knew what all of this meant; you'd lived through the nightmare of addiction with your own family. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to send your world spiraling, you found it—an unopened needle and a vial of Dilaudid. Enough to kill someone, enough to hurt, enough to drag someone back into the darkness you'd spent your whole life trying to escape.

Your world felt like it had tilted on its axis, everything you knew and trusted suddenly thrown into question. One thing you knew for certain—you couldn’t spend another second in Spencer’s apartment. You needed space to think, and every second you stayed in the apartment, surrounded by the echoes of this newfound reality, the more suffocating it felt. 

Quickly, you collected your things—your bag, your phone, absolutely not the sweatshirt that now felt so wrong to hold—and with a trembling hand, you grabbed the key Spencer had left on the fridge. As you locked the door behind you, a cold finality settled in, but then you just stood there, staring at the little gold key in your hand, paralyzed by indecision.

Do I leave it? Take it? Do I even want to come back here? Could there possibly be a good reason for why Spencer had kept this from me, for why he had hidden this massive part of himself? Your thoughts spiraled, but you couldn’t find a single strand to cling to.

Finally, shaking your head, you made your decision. You slid the key under the door, hearing the tiny scrape of metal on wood as it disappeared into the apartment you had thought was your safe place. And then you ran, down the stairs, through the lobby, to your car. You didn’t let yourself feel anything until you were back in your own home, the door shutting behind you like the closing of a chapter you didn’t know if you could reopen.

Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest and sobbed. All the memories came rushing back—the nights of worry, the fear of losing someone to the relentless pull of addiction, the feeling of not knowing what each day would bring. Even if Spencer wasn’t using now, even if this was something from his past, it didn’t stop the memories of your family from crashing over you like a tidal wave, dragging you under.

Poof, sensing your distress, padded over to you and rubbed his warm body against you, a small comfort in the chaos. He curled up in your lap, purring as you wrapped an arm around him, trying to steady your ragged breathing.

After what felt like hours, when the tears had finally slowed to silent streams, you wanted to call Aunt Erin, to demand answers, to understand. But the thought of telling her how you found out—of potentially risking Spencer’s job and livelihood—made you hesitate. And so you stayed there, on the floor of your apartment, crying softly as Poof purred in your lap, the comforting vibration of his presence the only thing grounding you in that moment.

—

Spencer had been looking forward to this moment all day—the idea of coming home to you, imagining what it would be like to share a space, to fall into that soft domesticity he craved so much. He fumbled with his keys, finally getting the door open, and stepped inside. “Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the empty apartment. No response. Maybe you were napping? “Darling?” he tried again, a little louder this time, hoping to hear your sweet voice drift in from another room.

The silence felt heavy, like something was wrong, but Spencer tried not to jump to conclusions. He wandered to the bedroom to change, figuring he could call you and ask if you were just out running an errand. But when he walked in, he immediately saw it—the box. It sat wide open on the bed, papers scattered as if someone had frantically sifted through it. 

All the air seemed to leave the room in that moment. Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat heavy and frantic, echoing in his ears as if the walls themselves were closing in. He rushed to the bed, hands shaking as he tried to close the box, to somehow undo what had been done. But it was too late. You had found it. You knew.

Fumbling for his phone, he tried calling you, hand slick with sweat as he pressed your contact and held it to his ear. The line rang, and rang, and rang until your voicemail picked up. “Hey, it’s Y/N, leave a message and—” Beep. 

He tried again, then again, desperation mounting with each missed call. “Y/N, please call me back. Just—just call me back, okay?” Each voice message grew more frantic, more pleading as he left you one after another, interspersed with shaky, jumbled texts trying to explain, trying to beg for a chance to talk.

Eventually, when it was clear you weren’t going to answer, Spencer felt his heart sink to depths he hadn’t known existed. You had shut him out. He was drowning in his own panic, guilt clawing at his insides like a living thing, and he felt like he had nowhere to go—no way to reach you, no way to make this right.

Swallowing thickly, and feeling like his pride was an irrelevant casualty in the wake of losing you, he called the only person who might know how to get through to you. “Agent Reid?” Strauss's voice was clipped, professional, and instantly cold. 

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked on the first word. “Strauss, it’s—it's Y/N, she found... everything. It was an accident. Please, just—can you check on her? I don't know where she is, I—” His voice broke, desperation clawing through the line.

Strauss let out a long, slow sigh. “You’re a moron,” she said simply, and then the line went dead. No reassurance. No promise to help. And that silence was the worst of all.

That night, Spencer barely moved from his spot on the bed. He sat, still fully dressed in his work clothes, the fabric wrinkling under the weight of his exhaustion as he curled around his phone, holding onto it like a lifeline. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot from the tears that he couldn’t stop, the grief for what he feared he’d lost seeping into every pore. 

The box still sat on the bed, its presence an accusation. A reminder of everything he had hidden, everything he might now lose. And in that moment, it felt like the walls of his apartment were closing in, trapping him in the silence of his own regret.

The morning light brought no solace to Spencer as he dragged himself out of bed, the weight of the previous day hanging over him like a storm cloud. His eyes were gritty and raw from the lack of sleep, his mouth dry as he went through the motions of getting ready for work, each step automatic. Splash water on the face. Brush teeth. Dress. His phone sat on the counter, silent—no new messages from you. Just the one from Strauss.

My office, first thing.

The words filled him with dread, and as he walked into the office, each step felt like he was dragging lead weights tied to his feet. When he reached Strauss’s office, she was already seated behind her desk, her expression a vicious, unreadable mask. He took the chair across from her, his back stiff as he prepared for the worst. 

“I spoke with Y/N,” Strauss said, her voice clipped, cutting like ice. Even just hearing your name was a punch to the gut. He winced, bracing himself. He had to know—whatever the truth was, he had to hear it. “And?” he managed to ask, the word barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it all too real.

Strauss’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “I’m not speaking as your unit chief when I say this—you fucked up, Spencer.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Spencer’s worst fear was crashing down around him. He could already feel the numbness setting in, dulling the pain, shutting down every emotion except the guilt that gnawed at his insides like acid. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Strauss continued, and though the words were steady and cold, each one landed like a bullet. 

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. There was nothing else to say, nothing to do but stand and leave, holding on to the last shred of composure he had left. Every step out of Strauss’s office was heavier than the last, each stride echoing in his ears as he made his way to his desk. He threw himself into his work with ferocity, desperate for a distraction, any distraction, to fill the void.

Meanwhile, miles away, you sat staring blankly at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the lines of code that blurred in front of you. But your mind was tangled in a mess of thoughts and questions, none of which had answers. What was he going to do with that dose? Is he still using? Was he going to use it all at once? Was he going to use it on me, like Dad did to Mom?

You hated how the questions came unbidden, every fear of your past dragging itself to the surface like an unrelenting tide. You couldn’t help but remember the night you found your parents—your father, using drugs to take your mother away. The thought that Spencer could be carrying anything like that darkness, even the slightest potential for harm, made your heart twist in agony. You loved him, but did you really know him? Could you trust him, after this? 

Every answer felt just out of reach, and all you could do was sit there, heart heavy and confused, trying to make sense of it all while feeling like the ground had dropped out from under your feet.

—

Three months had passed, a stretch of time that had felt both impossibly long and painfully short to Spencer. Three months since you’d walked out of his apartment, since the wall he’d carefully built around his heart had crumbled, since he’d been able to see you, touch you, speak with you. The only thing that got him through each day was work, the relentless cases that pulled him into the minds of others and away from his own chaos. But even then, in the rare moments of quiet, you still lingered in his thoughts.

Today, however, even work couldn’t serve as a distraction. Derek leaned on the edge of his desk, the grin on his face faltering when Spencer didn't meet his eyes. “Look, man,” Derek said, his tone soft, with that note of understanding that made Spencer want to crawl out of his own skin. “I know you’ve been bummed after your breakup with Y/N, but the team is going out tonight. You should come, it might cheer you up.”

Derek’s words, although well-intentioned, felt like a punch in the gut. He knew Derek meant well, and that the rest of the team did too, but they didn’t know the real reason things ended. Spencer couldn't tell them; it wasn’t just his story to share. He couldn’t explain the heartbreak that came from the discovery, the misunderstanding, the silence. All he could do was shake his head, eyes downcast as he muttered, “I’m good, man. Thanks though.”

Derek sighed deeply, clearly not ready to give up. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, cracking his knuckles in a display of mock intimidation. “But if you don’t come out tonight, I’ll tell Penelope that you’re the one who spilled coffee on her favorite keyboard.”

Spencer’s head whipped around so fast he almost cricked his neck, his eyes wide with horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would, kid,” Derek nodded seriously, his expression deadpan but the mischief unmistakable in his eyes.

Spencer could see there was no way out. Derek had cornered him, and he knew Penelope’s wrath was something to be avoided at all costs. “Fine,” he conceded, huffing out a breath. “But only for a bit.”

Derek’s victorious fist pump made him chuckle despite himself. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Reid. We’ll have a blast, just wait.”

And so, later that evening, Spencer found himself tucked into a booth at the team's favorite bar, nursing a drink that burned his throat but warmed his insides. The atmosphere was light, almost buoyant—stories were exchanged, laughter flowed as freely as the drinks, and for once, he found himself genuinely enjoying the company without the constant ache that had settled in his chest since you left.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Spencer was starting to feel something close to relaxed. The chatter around the table and the warmth of his friends seemed to ease some of the tension in his body, if only for a little while. He could breathe, even laugh at times, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

As the team sat around their booth, the energy high and the laughter loud, Spencer was oblivious to what was about to unfold. It wasn't until Derek's loud whistle pierced the air, catching everyone's attention, that he noticed something had shifted. 

“Damn, who is that fine lady?” Derek smirked, his eyes fixed on a woman who was strutting across the bar in a purple dress that left little to the imagination. 

“God, that dress is basically lingerie,” Emily leaned in to whisper, sounding a mix of admiration and awe. “I want it.”

The team shared quick glances, some amused, some appreciative of the daring outfit that hugged the woman's body perfectly. Even Spencer's eyes lingered, caught by the vibrant shade of purple—his favorite color. She looked like she had stepped out of a dream, a vision of elegance and seduction that was hard to look away from. But her face was hidden beneath waves of hair, and the dim bar lighting made it difficult to make out her features.

After a few moments of admiring glances, the conversation returned to its usual flow—until a table of rowdy men called out loudly, catcalling and beckoning the woman over. As she walked closer, the team finally got a good look at her face, and all their eyes widened in shock. 

It was you.

Spencer’s heart dropped to his stomach, but he didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening before Derek nudged him sharply. He pointed in your direction, where you were now leaning over the table of men, the dress dangerously low-cut, and your cleavage all too exposed. For a moment, the sight of you, dressed so provocatively and surrounded by a group of ogling strangers, felt like a punch to his chest.

Without thinking, and fueled by the anger and confusion that came crashing over him like a wave, Spencer stood abruptly. He didn’t care about the table’s booing or the way the men protested as he stormed over. All he could think about was getting you away from them. He grabbed your arm and yanked you back, his grip firm, his eyes blazing. 

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice low and tight with emotions he didn’t know how to name.

You laughed as Spencer dragged you outside the bar, letting the breeze hit your face, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks. But as the realization of who was gripping your arm sunk in, the smile fell away. 

“Spencer! What the hell! Let me go!” you snapped, pulling your arm away and shaking him off with all the force you could muster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, his voice filled with anger and... something else you couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?

You only laughed bitterly in response, the sound sharp and humorless. “Oh, you mean besides getting dragged around by a liar? What are you doing?” You met his gaze defiantly, your words dripping with contempt.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he searched your face, noticing for the first time the redness in your eyes, the slight glaze that wasn't quite right. “Are you... Are you high?” His tone was almost disbelieving, as if he couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

You nodded exaggeratedly, barely stifling another giggle. “As a kite.”

His anger flared again, and he practically yelled, “Are you kidding me? You hate drugs! You hate everything to do with them, and now you’re... using?”

“It’s just weed, Spencer!” you shot back, your voice loud and edged with frustration. “Sorry if I needed to relax! I’ve had a lot on my mind, okay?” 

Spencer paused for a moment, clearly wrestling with how to respond, his eyes flickering between you and the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your words spilling out with no filter, no restraint.

“What were you going to do with that dose, huh?” you challenged, your voice shaking. “Were you going to kill me, just like my daddy?”

The words hung in the air like a slap, and Spencer’s face paled, the color draining away as if you’d punched him. “Y/N, no. God, no—I... I don’t know...” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess... I kept it around in case.”

“In case what?” you pressed, eyes narrowing, your anger boiling over. 

“In case I... wanted to...” He shook his head in frustration, unable to even finish the thought. “I don’t know! It’s stupid, but I just—”

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, disgust heavy in your voice. “How could you?”

“I haven’t touched it in years!” he protested desperately, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. “I’m clean, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but you wouldn’t let me explain! I’m not like your dad—I’m not.”

The comparison made something inside you snap, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning in close, your eyes boring into his as you hissed, “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” 

Spencer stood there, stunned, your words slicing through him like shards of glass. The hostility radiating off you was something he had never witnessed before, and it hurt—hurt in a way that made it hard to breathe, to think, to respond.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice shaking. He wanted to believe you didn’t mean it. That this was just the high talking, the anger, the frustration. “Y/N, please. You know I’m not like—”

But you cut him off with a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, Spencer, you are. You kept that shit around like some kind of lifeline, like a fucking safety net. How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe anything you say when you’re hiding something like that?”

He could see the pain and betrayal in your eyes, and it tore him apart. Spencer felt the weight of your words settle in his chest, heavy like a stone. He reached out to touch your arm, trying to ground you both, but you yanked away, the motion sharp and final.

"Y/N, please, I know it looks bad. I know it seems like I’m keeping something from you, but I swear to you I’ve been clean for years. I swear that it was never about you, it was just—" Spencer’s voice cracked, struggling to find the right words. “It was a part of my past I was ashamed of. I didn't know how to tell you without losing you.”

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger. “And now you have.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage. “You know, I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to help you through whatever you were struggling with. But you didn’t let me, Spencer. You made a choice to keep me in the dark. And now I’m supposed to what? Trust that you’ll never fall back into that?”

Spencer’s eyes were wet, brimming with desperation. “I would never do that to you. I swear, I would never—”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” you said, your voice cracking, betraying the emotions you were trying so hard to hold back. “I don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't keep looking at you and wondering when you're going to relapse or if you're hiding something else from me.”

He shook his head frantically, panic setting in as he reached for your hands. “Please don’t do this. Please, Y/N. I love you. I know I messed up, but let me make it right. Just—”

“You can’t fix this, Spencer. I don't think you can," you whispered, and you pulled away, turning from him. Your body felt heavy, like it was weighed down by all the anger and sorrow. And for a moment, all you could do was stand there, willing yourself not to break down in front of him.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. Finally, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to walk away, leaving Spencer standing alone in the cold night air, his heart shattered, his world upended.

He called after you, but his voice sounded far away, like it was drowned out by the noise in your head, the whirlwind of emotions that wouldn’t let up.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the urge to get the last word in, knowing the wound it would leave. Slowly, you turned around, and your voice was ice-cold as you spoke. “Oh, and Spencer?”

He looked up, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes, desperate and raw. 

“For the record,” you said, the words burning on your tongue, “if you had just been honest about your past... I would've understood. I wouldn’t have judged you. No matter what happened, no matter how bad it was—I would've accepted you. I would've even helped you get rid of the box.” 

You watched as the hope drained from his face, the realization settling in. Then, without another word, you turned your back on him and left for good, leaving Spencer to stare after you, alone and devastated.

Your words cut through the air like a knife, leaving Spencer staring after you, the hope in his eyes collapsing into devastation. He felt like the ground beneath him had opened up and swallowed him whole, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move, couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make this right. 

As you walked away, the finality of your steps echoed louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, and he couldn’t help but replay your words over and over: If you had just told me...

And just like that, the what-ifs became deafening. What if he’d been honest with you from the start? What if he’d trusted you with his pain, his struggle, his history? What if he hadn’t let fear dictate his actions? 

Spencer ran a trembling hand through his hair, his chest heaving with silent sobs as you disappeared from view, the night swallowing you whole. And with each step you took, he knew it was one step further from ever getting back what he’d lost. 

You had been willing to stay, to support him, to love him even at his lowest—if only he had given you the chance. 

But he didn’t. And now, the person he loved more than anything in the world was gone. All he could do was stand there, his hands trembling, his heart breaking, whispering into the empty night.

“I’m sorry... I'm so sorry, Red.” 

But it was too late.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance 

[nerdy-novelist017]

Soaked (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Reader pt 8)

Hello, my lovelies! Sorry this took forever to write and post but I’ve been very busy with real life (ew) and I’m actually posting this while I’m on vacation. I wrote it on the plane and am posting in the car so please be kind if you see any mistakes hehe 😉

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 4.7k+

Summary- Benny’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to marry you, but with such different lives, you’re not so sure it will be as easy as he claims.

You felt the wind surge around you as Benny accelerated down the main road, his motorcycle roaring beneath you both. The world blurred past in a whirlwind of colors, but all you could focus on was the way your heart lifted, how a thrill of excitement shot through you as you zoomed past the rest of the gang. He did it just because he knew it’d make you giggle. And you did, the sound escaping you in a way that felt so carefree, so full of joy especially as you shot past Johnny and the others, leaving them in your dirt.

The wind was relentless, blowing your hair out of its carefully manicured braid, but you didn’t find yourself caring much anymore. The days spent with Benny had a way of shifting everything you thought had mattered. The things that once held so much weight – social status, gossip, public appearances – no longer seemed as important anymore. With Benny, it was almost like discovering a whole new world. No, not a new world. The same streets passed beneath the tires, the same faces you once worried about still existed. The world was still the same, but it was how he viewed it that felt so different. He didn’t care what others thought about him, didn’t pay attention to their expectations. He lived in his own world, surrounded by others like him that didn’t conform to the societal molds – people that you wouldn’t have even approached just based on their appearance. You never considered yourself a very judgemental person, but because of Benny, you have met and befriended people you could have never imagined.

That’s one of the things you loved about Benny. He wasn’t like anyone you had ever met before. He was different. And you were beginning to love that too.

He pulled off the main road, stopping in his signature spot in front of the club house. The roar of the rest of the gang pulling up sounded in the distance as Benny helped you off the bike. He held his grip on your hand, lacing his own fingers through yours as he pulled you gently into the bar. You followed him inside where the Vandals’ laughter and chatter soon filled the air. A familiar buzz of camaraderie enveloped the place, and before long, you found yourself seated around the table with a few of the core members. Benny was close – as always – with his arm draped over your shoulder.

“Hey, Bunny,” Cockroach’s voice cut through the sea of noise as he leaned forward and used his beer bottle to point at you. “When are you finally gonna say yes to our boy Benny, here?”

You stiffened slightly, the weight of the question hanging in the air and drawing the attention of the others at the table.

“Oh yeah,” Corky piped up, one eyebrow playfully cocked in a challenge. “He’s been asking, what, 100 times now? What’s the holdup? He’s not getting any younger, ya know?”

Heat filled your face at their teasing. Though Corky’s words were a bit of an exaggeration, they weren’t technically wrong. Since your kiss behind the clubhouse, Benny has asked you to marry him almost every day, sometimes more than once in a day. It had started by him mentioning married life in casual conversation, and you jokingly pointed out that he hadn’t actually proposed to begin with – not traditionally. And you were shocked to see him abandon everything he was doing in the moment to ask you to marry him. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but something deeper inside you caused your heart to flutter nervously. Since then, he’s asked several times, some in passing, a casual remark slipped into the conversation. Other times, he’d pause what he was doing, drop to one knee and grin up at you as if he were waiting for you to give in. But each time you’d laugh it off, brush it aside as him being unserious.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment?” you replied as you timidly played with the chain of your necklace, trying to deflect the attention.

“The right moment?” Cockroach parroted in disbelief. “He’s been proposin’ left and right for a week. Hell, I’d have said yes after the first time if it were me!”

The group laughed, and you tensed under Benny’s arm, wanting to melt into the floor from embarrassment. Benny squeezed your hand reassuringly, and he leaned, his voice dropping to a low murmur that was only meant for you, “They don’t mean nothin’ by that, you know that.”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He was right, you knew that. They didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the constant razzing – especially with this particular subject – was start to weigh on you.

“Yeah, c’mon, Bunny,” Cal chimed in from across the way, “What’s it gonna take? Benny’s a catch! He’s got the bike, the looks, the . . . mommy’s issues. If you don’t say yes soon, you might lose your chance.”

That playful jab was too much for Benny who stiffened next to you. You expected him to get angry, to blow up like you had seen your father do when he was upset. But instead, Benny leaned forward, eyes narrowing with a playful glint that you had come to adore. The table was buzzing with laughter, but he wasn’t about to let the spotlight stay on you for too long. Without missing a beat, he flashed a grin at Corky, his hand raised as he said, “Alright, alright. But let’s not pretend you all ain’t desperate for a distraction since none of you can keep a bike upright without fallin’ on your asses.”

The table roared with laughter and Corky’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “That was one time! And I had an oil slick!”

Johnny immediately jumped in, “Yeah Corky, an oil slick you created when your bike was leakin’ everywhere.”

Laughter erupted again and you shot Benny a grateful look as the guys started ribbing Corky about his infamous fall. Benny’s eyes met yours briefly, his thumb brushing your hand under the table in a silent message: I’ve got you. Most of the group knew you were shy and did not appreciate being the center of attention in a crowd, and they respected that. However, there were a few class clowns (as Benny called them) who loved to tease you, knowing it could get a reaction without fail. But Benny never let it go on for long, always shutting them down when he recognized your discomfort.

They’ve never teased you about marriage though. You had to wonder if Benny had voiced his irritation to them at some point or if they had picked up on your hesitation organically. Either way, it left you feeling bad. Excusing yourself, you wiggled out of Benny’s grasp as you stood and made your way for the restroom, needing a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But just as you reached the back of the bar, a voice stopped you.

“You ain’t gotta worry about what they say to you,” Funny Sonny stood leaning casually against the bar top as he sipped a glass of whiskey. “That just means they like you, accept you.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at the table of rowdy bikers. “I’m just not . . . used to it. All the teasin’.”

Sonny nodded, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he grinned. “You’ll get used to it. Won’t be long till you’re the one throwing out the first jabs.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious course of action, as if you weren’t from completely different worlds. You furrowed your brows, eyes casting downwards as you admitted, “I’m not so sure about that. I’m not at all like you guys.”

“You don’t gotta be like us to be with us. We’re family here and family means lookin’ out for each other, even the ones who came from different backgrounds,” he said, his voice lowering a register to a bit more of a serious tone.

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, the concept so foreign yet so familiar. Family. You knew what that was, you had one, you were loved by one. But for some reason, it felt like it meant something different with the Vandals. They chose their family, stood by them despite no blood relation. Your parents loved you, you knew that. They showed it in their own ways every day. But by default, they had to love you. With the Vandals, they chose to care for each other, chose to look out for each other. In a way, it almost seemed more powerful, more profound.

Being Benny’s girl didn’t just mean he alone had your best interest at heart. It also meant having the rest of the Vandals on your side too, all of them looking out for you. You weren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced such an intense loyalty before, even from blood relatives. And it left you with a warm feeling in your chest.

When you returned to the table, Benny was already standing as if he were waiting for you. His eyes met yours with a slight unease, almost like he thought you wouldn’t come back, like he thought you were so upset that you’d sneak out the backdoor.

“Wanna go for a night ride?” he asked, his voice soft as his hand extended out for you.

Your heart squeezed at his thoughtfulness. He knew how much you were growing to enjoy the feeling of blazing down the empty streets under a star-filled sky with him. A smile tugged at your lips, and you took his hand without hesitation, nodding.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand slid into his own. You were vaguely aware of the groans and exaggerated protests from the table about the night being still young, but you didn’t hesitate to follow Benny as he led you to the door. He pulled you along to his Harley, the cool and fresh air a welcome change.

The tension from earlier still lingered as Benny’s hand touched your leg, helping you onto the back of the bike. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his back, finding solace in the familiar scent from his jacket.

He drove you around the city, stars and stop lights shining above, engine roaring below. He eventually pulled off the main drag, heading down a quieter road that led out of town. The blacktop blurred beneath you as he slowed the speed to more of a lazy joyride. He took a familiar turn, stopping at the small pull off area before a bridge. The sound of the engine faded as he brought the bike to a stop, the air filling with crickets’ song. The night’s air was breezy, but a welcome change from the hot, loud atmosphere of the clubhouse.

Benny dismounted first, reaching out to help you down. His touch – lingering longer than necessary – against your arm felt electric, sending a jolt of butterflies to your stomach, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to read your thoughts. The two of you walked over the concrete bridge, pausing once in the middle. You leaned over the railing, getting lost in the gentle swirl of the water below. But Benny was lost in the sight of you.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, the usual playful teasing replaced by something softer and reserved only for you.

With your heart beating hard at his gentle tone, you nodded. “I’m fine.”

He frowned, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “I know the guys can be a bit much. I don’t like when they tease you like that. I didn’t mean for them to make you uncomfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his words, knowing that wanting to protect you was something he took very seriously, even if it meant from his own friends, his own family.

“I know,” you responded softly, leaning your chin on your hand over the railing.

“I’ll talk to them, make sure they won’t raz you like that anymore,” he promised, his expression serious.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know. It’s a lot to get used to,” you admitted gently. Before Benny, you’d never even been in a bar before, never ridden a motorcycle, never stayed out past curfew. He was a completely different experience than you were accustomed to. And now he wanted you to marry, after only knowing him for a few weeks. He wanted to be your husband, your partner for life. Your life felt like a bit of a whirlwind ever since you met him, but you wanted to be certain it wasn’t just fun because it was new.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes tracing your features, his hand resting over your own. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, something in him conflicted. Finally, he released a soft sigh, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. “You don’t have to answer them, you know. Hell, you don’t have to answer me. Not till you’re ready.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you breathed in his scent – leather, smoke and something uniquely Benny. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I . . . ”

Benny pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Hey, you don’t owe anyone an explanation, not even me. You’ll say yes when you’re ready. And when that time comes, I’ll be here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as it was your turn to kid. “How do you know I’ll say yes?”

Benny’s smile was gentle but still roguishly confident. His hand lingered on your cheek, his fingers tracing down the curve of your jaw as if he were mapping every detail of you. “I just know. When you feel it – when it’s real – you just know.”

He said it so simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if love were the most uncomplicated concept. You didn’t understand that, couldn’t see it that way. You’d seen the love your parents shared and that was beautiful and kind but it was also messy and cruel more often than not. And you understood that your parents were not the only representation of what love and marriage was supposed to be, but it was a constant presence in your life. They didn’t have perfect love, not like what you’d see in the movies or read in books. And you wondered if maybe you were giving too high of expectations for what love was supposed to be, but what you felt when you were around Benny . . . well, it felt exactly like the books described.

The way he looked at you, as if you were the most important thing in the world, made you feel so seen. The way he listened to you as if you were the most entertaining show, made you feel so heard. And the truth was undeniable: you were falling for Benny faster than you thought possible. It was terrifying. Benny was all fire and freedom, a rebel who didn’t play by the rules, who followed his own path with reckless abandon. And you admired that about him, but the thought of stepping into his world permanently felt like stepping off a ledge into the unknown.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asked, pulling you back into the present.

You pulled back slightly, biting your lip in contemplation before speaking your mind, “Don’t you wonder if there are other girls out there that you haven’t even met yet? Girls who are more suited for you?”

He shook his head, his voice light as he said, “Nah, I know you’re the only one for me, kid.”

“But marriage is serious. It’s forever.”

His hand slid down to your hip, turning you to face him fully, his expression solemn. “I never . . . I never thought marriage was real. The way I saw my mom and old man together . . . what they had wasn’t love. And I realized that at an early age. I didn’t think it was something that was real, just a bunch of fairytale bullshit you tell little kids. The girls I’ve been with, girls that may have been more suited for me, have never made me feel what I feel with you, Bunny. This is serious to me too because it proves everything I’ve never believed in.”

Emotion caught in the back of your throat as you pictured the man standing before you as just a boy living in a toxic household, an unloving home. It made you want to hold him tight, to shield him from the rest of the world. The man who held you so gently, who took you for night rides just to cheer you up. The man who came to your bake sale when nobody else did. The man who promised to drive slow so as not to scare you. The man who said he’d follow you all the way to California so that you didn’t have to go by yourself. The man who taught you about his hobbies with eagerness, and listened to yours with attentiveness.

He deserved to be loved in the same way he loved. But the tragic thing was that he didn’t see that, couldn’t comprehend someone loving him like that. He was damaged by his childhood, and you realized that he didn’t think he was worthy of repair. But you’d show him that he was, that he was worthy of everything he never had.

Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently cup his face, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was a shift in his expression – his usual teasing and bravado now replaced with some raw and unguarded as though he was offering you a glimpse into a deeper part of him, one rarely ever shown to anyone.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You’re not just some girl to me, Bunny. You know that, right?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t playing around now, not hiding behind his usual flirty quips. His sincerity was almost overwhelming. You swallowed thickly. “But what if I mess this up? What if I’m the one who can’t do this?”

Benny’s brows furrowed and he lifted a hand to brush across your cheek, his touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

“You’re making it sound so easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn’t quite believe him.

Benny could feel your tremble, the shaky laugh betraying your nerves you were trying so hard to hide. He could sense your heart racing, and he wanted so desperately to be the one to soothe it, to take away the hesitation in your eyes. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the soft curve of it making his heart ache in his chest. He loved how your lips quivered just slightly under his touch. He loved making you blush, loved teasing you until you looked at him like you were annoyed or completely at his mercy. But this . . . this was different. His touch lingered on your lip, slow and almost reverent as he savored the way you responded to him. It wasn’t about teasing anymore – it was about showing you what you meant to him.

“It is,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than he intended “It’s easy because it’s you.”

The air between you felt electric as his hand slid down the curve of your neck, his fingers lingering there, feeling the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to match his own wild one. He ducked his head slightly as he whispered, “You’re scared. But you don’t need to be.”

He meant it, more than he meant anything in his life. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, searching for any sign of doubt, any sign that you didn’t feel the same way he did. Your eyes – wide and uncertain – met his, and Benny felt the weight of his words over them both.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your soft voice almost disappearing in the night.

And how could he explain it, especially since he’s never been good at explaining his feelings? How could he put into words what was so abundantly clear to him? That you made everything – even the most outrageous things – seem possible. That with you, he didn’t feel like just some fuck-up waiting for the next diaster. With you he felt grounded, like he belonged somewhere. Like you saw him for more than just the wild, reckless kid everyone else saw.

“Because you make me sure,” he responded with a gentle, encouraging smile as his hands moved to tilt your chin upwards to him. “You make my life feel like it’s supposed to.”

His gaze moved down to your mouth once more as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and he simply couldn’t resist anymore. He closed the gap, brushing his lips so softly against your own. The kiss was gentle, tender, but as you responded to his touch, the need that had been simmering inside him for so long flared to life. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, smiling into the kiss when he heard your slight gasp.

His heart pounded in his chest as the world seemed to fade away briefly until it was just you and him, just this. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let you go.

But you did eventually pull away, the need to breathe becoming all consuming. Breathlessly, he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as he focused on slowing his pulse. His hands remained on your waist, holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“You see?” he whispered as his lips brushing against your forehead softly. “It’s easy being with you.”

You giggled and his heart soared at the melody. It took everything in him not to pull you back into another kiss, not to hold onto you like you were the only thing that kept him grounded.

His lips still tingled from the kiss, and he could taste the faint sweetness of your breath, the softness of your lips. It wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough for Benny. He wanted more of you. He’d never wanted anything like he wanted you, never craved anyone like he craved you. It was almost unbearable, like every second where he wasn’t touching you was a second wasted.

And yet, he knew you were scared. He could see it in the way you looked down at your shoes, could hear it in the timidity of your voice. It only made him want to protect you more, to make you see that being with him would never be something you had to fear. But he didn’t know how to say that without sounding like he was pushing, without making you feel like you were being rushed into a decision that was as much about you as it was him.

But damn if he didn’t want to make you his.

He opened his eyes and pulled back enough to look at you face again, to really take you in. And my god, the way you were looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes made his chest tighten. And you didn’t even realize how much power you had over him. One look, one smile, and he was a goner.

Before either of you could speak, thunder cracked off in the distance, bringing you both back to the present, back to the rest of the world. You glanced up at the dark clouds that blew in to cover the stars, wondering how long you had stood on this bridge with Benny.

“Guess we should get back,” you said sheepishly.

“Guess so,” Benny replied with a lazy grin as though the storm could come crashing down and he’d still be perfectly content standing here with you.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” you asked as you walked to his bike, glancing up at the thick, dark clouds blowing in from the west.

“Nah,” he said as he swung a leg over the bike with that signature confidence that made your heart race. “We’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

******

By the time Benny pulled up to your house, rain was pouring from the sky like a waterfall, fat and heavy droplets splattering onto the sidewalk. Despite wearing Benny’s Vandals jacket, the rain had completely soaked you. Your hair, which had been meticulously pinned up just hours ago, was plastered to your face, and your dress clung to your body like a second skin.

You didn’t wait for him to shut off the bike before you hopped off and tugged on his sleeve.

“C’mon!” You laughed, tugging on Benny’s sleeve as you ran for the safety of your porch overhang. Your heels splashed through the water pooling on the blacktop, and he followed quickly behind, his warm hands finding your waist to steady you from falling as you both stumbled beneath the overhang.

Breathless and grinning like an idiot, you turned to face him, and you were momentarily stunned by the sight. Rainwater rolled down from his usually swept up hair, sliding down the curve of his cheekbones and falling off his jawline. He only wore a whote t shirt, the wet fabric turning almost transparent as it clung to every ridge, every toned muscle and you blinked before your gaze shot back up to his face. Even as wet as a drowned rat, he still managed to look so effortlessly sexy.

He was grinning at you with that boyish expression, and heat filled your face at the realization that you were just as soaked as he was but definitely not as pretty a sight. You probably looked like a mess — makeup smeared, hair ruined — but he was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Not gonna rain, huh?” you teased, quirking an eyebrow at the heavy rainfall just off your porch.

“Just a light sprinkle,” he returned easily, but you noticed he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Do you wanna come in?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “To dry off?”

He sobered instantly, his gaze raking over your form before moving to your front door. He’d never been inside your house, never seen where you call home, where you lay down at night and replay your memories of him. There was never really an option for him to be inside your house. He’d never met your parents — despite asking multiple times to meet them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put neither your parents nor Benny though that. Deep down, you knew your father would never approve of Benny, never give him his blessing. It was a disaster waiting to happen when he found out that you were dating a biker. You begged your mother to keep it a secret to which she obliged, but you knew it wouldn’t be long till he found out.

Benny took a full step back from you, hesitation obvious in his face, his voice low and almost regretful he said. “I—I better not, Bun.”

Normally, you wouldn’t ask again after being denied, wouldn’t be so bold. But you weren’t the same girl you were a few weeks ago before you met Benny. Emboldened by the perfect opportunity to have him inside your home, to share a piece of yourself with him, you stepped forward.

You took a step forward, your voice soft but sure. “My parents aren’t home. C’mon, just to dry off and wait till the rain lets up a little. You can’t drive in that anyway. It’s not safe and I won’t let you.”

Benny released a breath that sounded a lot like a laugh as he shook his head, clearly conflicted by your invitation. And for a moment, you thought he might shake his head and turn away. You thought he might face the rainstorm and leave you behind.

But instead, he nodded and your heart soared at the small gesture. Filled with hopeful energy, you shot him a smile, moving to open the front door and invite him inside your home, inside your world.

-Tag List-

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[simplygojo]

The Cool Uncle Blurbs - JJK Men

Author's Note: Heyyy, so I have been told by a few of y'all that I need to write shorter blurbs, so this was my practice piece!. Each character's blurb is about 1k each...writing something this short is so foreign to me, I am so used to having 8k minimums for school, so this may take practice! Please let me know if you like these shorter blurbs :)

Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader; Satoru Gojo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Suguru Geto x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Inspired by some art by @clemenlush (linked here) that inspired me to write the JJK men as cool uncles, lol. Let me know if any of y'all want me to do another character!!

Warnings: alcohol use, mention of baby-making!, softboys & fluff

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

✧.* — TOJI FUSHIGURO — ✧.*

You glanced at Toji as he steered the car down the quiet, tree-lined street. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between you two, but that familiar weight of his presence filled the silence. He always carried himself with an easy confidence, a kind of quiet power that made him stand out without even trying.

“You don’t have to look so annoyed,” you teased, catching the subtle furrow in his brow as he pulled into Jinichi’s driveway.

Toji didn’t say anything at first, just smirked and glanced sideways at you. “I’m not annoyed,” he grumbled, though the slight tilt of his mouth said otherwise. “Just not exactly in the mood for the family dinner crap.”

You rolled your eyes.

Classic Toji.

“Be nice. It’s just dinner. You’re not walking into a fight,” you reminded him with a soft laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “And you know exactly how much your nephew adores you.”

That earned you a low chuckle as he cut the engine and slouched back in his seat.

“Kid's got good taste. I’m the only fun one ‘round here.”

You both stepped out of the car and as you made your way up the driveway, the front door swung open. 

Your brother-in-law, Jinichi, stood there, smiling at you both, but barely had the chance to greet you before the sound of hurried footsteps followed behind him.

“Toji-ojisan!”

A small, dark-haired blur darted past Jinichi and straight toward Toji. Before you could blink, Toji’s nephew had attached himself to his leg, looking up with wide eyes.

“Uncle Toji! You came! Are you gonna tell me more stories about when you were younger?”

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking down at the kid, then cast a sidelong glance at you.

“See? Told you. I’m the fun one.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as Toji crouched down to ruffle his nephew’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Already am,” he replied, deadpan, before turning his full attention to the kid.

“What’s up, brat? You been behaving?”

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yep! I’ve been practicing just like you told me. Can we go to the backyard later? You gotta see my new moves!”

Toji stood back up, arms crossed as he exchanged a quick glance with Jinichi, who gave a knowing grin.

There was an unspoken fondness between them, though Jinichi didn’t say anything, just stepping aside to let you in.

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, the scent of homemade food already filling the air. You noticed Toji’s posture relax—just a bit—as you made your way to the living room.

His nephew stuck to his side like glue, constantly asking about everything from Toji’s workout routine to his old school stories.

Toji answered in his usual blunt way, never indulging the kid too much, but just enough to keep him hooked.

After dinner, you found yourself sitting outside on the back patio, watching Toji and his nephew go over some silly mock sparring moves.

The boy had his fists up, trying to mimic Toji’s stance, all while Toji lazily dodged the punches, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You leaned back in your chair, and for a moment, it was like your heart swelled in your chest—three sizes too big, you thought with a smile.

It was impossible not to feel that warmth as you watched Toji with his nephew, his tough exterior softened just a bit in these moments.

He’d never admit it, but seeing him like this, in his own way, playing the doting uncle…it made you melt.

You could see it in the way his nephew looked at him, hanging onto his every word. And the way Toji engaged—aloof but present—it warmed something deep inside you.

“You’re such a softie, you know that?” you called out, your voice teasing but laced with affection.

Toji turned, still holding up a lazy guard, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yeah? How d’you figure?”

You gave him a knowing grin, folding your arms. “Look at you—out here entertaining him like you don’t enjoy it. Don’t act like you don’t love being the ‘cool uncle.’”

He straightened up, brushing his hands through his hair as he cast a quick glance at his nephew—who was too busy practicing his “new moves” on a nearby tree—to respond.

Then, with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat, he stepped toward you. “Maybe I am a softie,” he started, voice low, “but only for you.”

You blinked, a playful roll of your eyes as you went to respond—

“Though, I’ll tell ya, there’s somethin’ I’m neverr soft for...”

It took you all of two seconds to realize where he was going, but before he could finish the joke, you flicked him right in the forehead.

“Toji!” You scolded, laughing despite yourself.

He grinned, all too pleased with himself, as he rubbed his forehead.

“What? You’re the one who brought it up, sweetheart.”

“You’re awful,” you said, shaking your head, though the warmth in your chest remained. You could never stay mad at him, especially not when he was like this—so smug, so sure of himself.

“And to think I almost thought you were sweet for a second.”

He leaned down, one hand coming to rest on the arm of your chair as he hovered over you, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Almost, huh?”

You flicked his forehead again, but softer this time. “Don’t push your luck.”

He chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms as he glanced toward his nephew, still occupied in his makeshift sparring match with the tree.

“Brat’s got a lot to learn,” he muttered, but you could hear the fondness there, the warmth beneath his tough exterior.

“Kid might be cooler than me one day.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you watched the two of them together.

“Not possible,” you said softly, though Toji didn’t hear it—or pretended not to.

Either way, in that moment, your heart was full. This was your life, and honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧.* — GOJO SATORU — ✧.*

Gojo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the radio, sunglasses perched—needlessly—on his nose despite the fact it was well after sunset.

You shot him a side-eye.

“You do realize we’re just going to Shoko’s for dinner, right? You’re acting like you’re about to perform on stage.”

He grinned, his lips pulling into that signature cocky smile.

“Aren’t I always the main attraction, though? Especially tonight. Her kid adores me.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because you let him climb all over you like a jungle gym.”

“Hey, I’m just providing the fun. I can’t help that I’m a natural favourite,” he quipped, glancing at you for emphasis before focusing back on the road.

“You say that like it’s a talent,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew as you thought about it.

It was hard not to love Gojo when he was like this—carefree, playful, and so naturally magnetic, especially around kids.

By the time you pulled up to Shoko’s house, you could already hear the muffled sound of laughter and conversation.

The front door creaked open before either of you could knock, and Shoko’s five-year-old son burst out, arms outstretched, ready to greet his hero.

“Gojo-nii!” The kid’s excitement was so pure, it was contagious.

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he crouched down to scoop him up in one smooth motion.

“Hey, champ! Been keeping things under control at this house? Your mom can be a handful…”

The boy giggled as Gojo swung him around effortlessly, his small hands gripping the fabric of Gojo’s coat. 

You stood back for a moment, hand still resting on the open passenger door, with a growing smile on your face.

Gojo’s childlike energy matched the kid’s perfectly, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

“He’s been waiting for you all day,” Shoko called from the hallway, rolling her eyes as she stepped into view.

“Good luck tearing him away from you tonight.”

Gojo set the kid down with a dramatic flair, straightening up and shooting a playful wink at you.

“What can I say? I’ve got that irresistible charm.”

“Careful, your ego’s showing again,” you quipped, nudging him as you all walked into the house.

As Gojo and the boy ran off to “catch up”—which likely meant some sort of wild chase through the living room—you found yourself watching from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and heart swelling.

It always surprised you how soft Gojo could be, especially around kids. 

His usual swagger and bravado were still there, but he had a way of connecting with them that was genuinely sweet. It made your heart skip in ways you had never expected.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you watched Gojo give the kid a piggyback ride, the room filled with their laughter. 

Shoko came up beside you, handing you a glass of wine. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where Satoru Gojo is someone’s favorite jungle gym,” she commented dryly, taking a sip from her own glass.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s weird, right? But he loves it.”

Shoko gave you a knowing look. “Does he? Or does he just love being adored?”

You grinned, letting out a short laugh before responding.

“Both. Definitely both.”

Later, after dinner, Gojo had somehow convinced the boy to show him every toy he owned, and you found yourself watching them again, heart swelling even more.

You didn’t know how, but every time Gojo was around that kid, you swore your heart was overwhelmed with admiration.

“You’re good with him, you know,” you said softly as you sidled up next to Gojo, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping the boy assemble a toy robot. “It’s almost like you… enjoy this.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Enjoy? What are you trying to say, love? You think I’m not the paternal type?”

You smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think you love it, actually...”

Gojo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and giving you a playful look. “Oh, I love a lot of things,” he said smoothly, lowering his voice.

“And most of them are when we’re not around a five-year-old.”

You blinked, realizing the meaning behind his words, and lightly smacked him at the back of his head. “Satoru!”

“Ow!” He pouted, rubbing the back of his head. “What? I’m just being honest.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Actually…I’m the best,” he corrected with a wink, as the kid ran back to Gojo’s side, completely oblivious to the innuendo.

Watching Gojo with that playful smile and the way he effortlessly entertained the kid—who was still tugging at his sleeve to show him yet another toy—made you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth.

Sure, Gojo could be an insufferable flirt, but seeing him like this, so naturally connected and full of energy, reminded you why you loved him so much.

Even when he was being a ridiculous show-off, he had a way of making your heart burst with affection.

“Okay, okay,” you said, shaking your head fondly.

“Let’s see if you can at least try to behave yourself the rest of the night.”

Gojo stood up, stretching dramatically, and then leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“No promises. You know me—I always aim to please.”

You smacked him again, this time softer, as he flashed that signature grin of his and turned his attention back to Shoko’s son, who was already planning his next adventure with his “cool uncle.”

✧.* — NANAMI KENTO — ✧.*

The evening sky was beginning to blush with hues of orange and pink as you and Nanami made your way to your sister's house. 

The quiet hum of the car and the familiar scent of Nanami’s cologne made the drive feel calm, though you couldn’t help the tiny flutter of excitement in your stomach.

Family dinners were always nice, but this time there was a little extra something—your niece loved Nanami.

“I think she loves you more than she loves me,” you said playfully, turning to glance at your husband as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Nanami’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

“Hardly. She just appreciates that I bring her books.”

“Books, toys, puzzles, snacks—don’t act like you haven’t been spoiling her.” You teased, gently nudging his arm.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, but you could see the way his eyes softened.

“I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

You grinned.

It was the kind of answer you'd expect from Nanami—thoughtful, selfless, and with an unspoken affection that melted your heart every time.

It was hard to imagine anyone not loving him, really. 

As you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you didn’t even have a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open.

Your niece, a whirlwind of energy with messy pigtails and a huge smile, came racing down the path.

“Uncle Kento!” she squealed, her little feet pounding against the pavement as she made a beeline for Nanami.

He stepped out of the car just in time for her to throw her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly. Nanami looked slightly startled but quickly softened, crouching down to her level. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face lit up at his greeting, and she quickly started tugging him towards the house.

“Come on! I have to show you my new dollhouse! You’re going to love it!”

You watched them from a few steps behind, heart warming at the sight. Nanami—who always seemed so composed and serious—was completely wrapped around your niece’s tiny finger. It was an endearing contrast, watching the usually stoic man willingly get pulled into a child’s world of excitement and play.

By the time you reached the front door, your niece had already dragged Nanami inside, babbling non-stop about the dollhouse, the latest puzzle he bought her, and a new storybook she wanted him to read later. 

You exchanged a smile with your sister, who had appeared in the doorway, laughing as she watched her daughter commandeer Nanami's attention.

“He’s got the magic touch with kids, huh?” Your sister remarked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You chuckled, stepping inside. “She loves him. I think she’s ready to keep him all to herself.”

“Good luck getting him back,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge as you both headed into the living room.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and your niece proudly showing Nanami everything she could think of—her new school projects, her favorite toys, and even a drawing she had made “just for him.” 

He listened attentively, offering genuine praise, his voice calm but warm in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just humoring her. He cared.

You found yourself watching the two of them, your heart swelling with each small interaction. 

It was impossible not to smile, seeing Nanami, the man who rarely let himself relax, so at ease around your niece. 

Nanami had just finished reading her a bedtime story, and now she was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with her favorite stuffed toy.

“She’s asleep,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing your niece’s hair away from her face.

You stepped forward, quietly gathering the blankets to tuck her in. “You’re really good with her, you know?”

He glanced at you, a faint smile on his lips. “I try.”

“No, really,” you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “She loves you. You’re her favorite.”

Nanami’s eyes softened at your words, but he didn’t say much more, his hand lingering on your niece’s small form for a moment longer before standing up.

The two of you quietly exited the room, letting her sleep in peace.

After saying your goodbyes to your sister and thanking her for dinner, you both made your way out to the car. 

The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet as Nanami opened the passenger door for you, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back as you slid into the seat.

The drive home was calm, with the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road creating a peaceful background hum. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur into soft orbs as they passed by.

Nanami was silent beside you, his hands steady on the wheel. There was something thoughtful in the way he held himself, a quiet contemplation that you could sense even without looking at him.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden weight in his voice.

Nanami hesitated for a moment, his thumb tapping lightly on the steering wheel before reaching over to rest on your thigh.

“Of what I want,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “Of what we could have.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication behind his words, and you turned to face him fully, sensing where this was going.

“Kento…” You began softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued, his gaze fixed ahead on the road.

“For a while now, actually.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your pulse quicken as the meaning behind his words settled in. He wasn’t just talking about your niece anymore.

“You’re talking about…” you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A family,” he finished for you, his tone gentle but certain. “I want us to have a baby.”

For a moment, you just sat there.

You had always known that Nanami cared deeply, that he was serious about your future together, but hearing him say it like this, so plainly, so sincerely—it was something else entirely.

“You want a baby?” You repeated softly, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as he spoke.

“Yes. I want to start a family with you. I’ve been thinking about it for some time, but… I didn’t want to pressure you.”

You reached over, gently placing your hand on top of his where it rested on your leg.

“You’re not pressuring me, Kento. I…” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

“I want that too. With you. More than anything.”

When you finally pulled up to your home, Nanami turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating his thoughtful expression. 

He turned to you, reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll do this together.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes meeting his with a warmth and certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well…I am ready now...” You said with a playful tone.

He smiled then—small, soft, and full of love—and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, sealing the quiet promise you had both made tonight.

“Well then lets get inside.”

✧.* — SUGURU GETO — ✧.*

It was a peaceful evening, and the low hum of conversation filled the room, accompanied by the occasional clatter of building blocks. You sat cross-legged on the couch, watching as Suguru helped Utahime's son with his tower-building endeavor.

The little boy was fully engaged, eyes bright with excitement as Suguru gently guided his small hands to balance each block perfectly.

“Higher, Sugu! Make it taller!” the boy giggled, his enthusiasm filling the room with an infectious joy.

Suguru chuckled softly, his deep voice filled with warmth.

“Careful, we don’t want it to fall,” he murmured, adding another block to the structure with a steady hand.

His long fingers made the task look effortless, and the boy watched in awe.

You leaned back against the couch cushions, the sight of Suguru interacting with the child making your heart swell.

There was something about seeing him like this—patient, soft-spoken, so full of care. It was a side of him that you loved deeply, and it reminded you just how much of a natural he was with kids.

“You’re really good with him,” you commented, your voice a little more tender than usual as you admired the scene before you.

Suguru glanced over at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

“He’s easy to please,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy, who was now clapping his hands excitedly as the tower grew taller.

“Still,” you said, watching the way the boy leaned into Suguru, clearly adoring him, “he’s obsessed with you. I’ve never seen him so attached.”

Suguru smirked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What can I say? I’m just irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your heart warmed anyway.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just hope you don’t break his heart when we leave.”

The boy turned to you, his face lighting up with joy. “Sugu is so cool, y/n! He’s gonna help me with my blocks forever!”

You chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair as you watched Suguru pretend to be serious.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, buddy.”

Suguru leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with the boy.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his tone teasing. “As long as I get to build the biggest towers.”

The boy giggled, his eyes sparkling as he nodded enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—it was moments like this that made your heart grow three sizes.

You leaned forward, nudging Suguru’s shoulder lightly.

“Admit it, you’re loving this.”

Suguru’s dark eyes flickered with amusement as he glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Of course! What’s not to love?”

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of keys jingling outside the door caught your attention.

You glanced at the clock—it was just about time for Utahime to be home.

The front door creaked open, and Utahime stepped inside, looking a little worn out but smiling when she saw the scene in front of her.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and gratitude as she took in the sight of her son sitting on the floor, still glued to Suguru’s side.

“Mama!” The boy immediately jumped up, running toward her with open arms. Utahime knelt down, scooping him up with a tired but happy sigh.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Were you good for Suguru and y/n?”

“He was an angel,” you replied with a smile, standing up from the couch. “Though, I think Suguru’s the real hero tonight.”

Utahime chuckled, glancing at Suguru with an appreciative smile.

“I don’t doubt it. Thanks for watching him—both of you. I owe you one.”

Suguru waved her off, standing up and stretching his arms.

“No need. He’s a fun kid. We built the tallest tower yet.”

The boy wiggled in Utahime’s arms, looking up at her excitedly.

“Mama, it was so tall! Sugu’s the best!”

Utahime smiled down at him, her eyes softening. “I’m glad you had fun, sweetie. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

As Utahime carried her son off to his room, you turned to Suguru, your hand finding his arm as you gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You were great with him tonight,” you said softly, your eyes full of affection.

Suguru gave you a warm smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“I had fun,” he murmured. “But we should probably head out.”

You nodded, glancing around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. After a few minutes, Utahime returned, looking more relaxed now that her son was settled.

“Thanks again, guys,” she said, walking you both to the door. “I’ll definitely owe you one for this.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, giving her a quick hug before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As you and Suguru made your way to his bike, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. There was something peaceful about nights like this—watching Suguru be so gentle and kind, seeing how naturally he fit into the role of caretaker.

It stirred something warm and familiar deep within you.

Once you both stepped outside into the cool evening air, Suguru glanced at you with a smirk.

“You know,” he started, his tone laced with that unmistakable teasing charm, “playing with Utahime’s kid is fun and all, but…” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he reached for your hand. “I was thinking we should get home and get to some 'baby-making' ourselves… if you know what I mean.”

Heat instantly bloomed in your cheeks as you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “Suguru!”

But before you could respond properly, Suguru swept you off your feet with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“What? It’s a solid plan, plus you're the one who kept saying I'm just sooo good with kids.” He grinned, peppering your face with soft kisses as he carried you toward his motorcycle.

“Put me down!” You laughed, but your protests were playful as Suguru’s kisses continued, light and affectionate, his breath warm against your skin.

“You love it,” he murmured between kisses, making you giggle even more.

With one final press of his lips to your forehead, Suguru set you down beside his motorcycle, the playful glint in his eyes still there.

“Now, let’s get home,” he said, sliding onto the bike and passing you your helmet. “We’ve got some important work to do.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

As the engine roared to life, you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling that same peaceful contentment wash over you once more.

And as you sped off into the night, the playful warmth of Suguru's teasing stayed with you, a reminder of just how lucky you were to have him by your side.

Author's Note II: Let me know your thoughts on these and lmk if you want me to do any other characters :)

LOVE Y'ALL

[chesterfieldblossom]

"AMERICAN WEDDING"

Arthur Morgan x Reader (1k words) "Well you can have my mustang / That's all I've got in my name"

SUMMARY | Arthur and you had been in a discreet relationship, but everyone on the camp knew your commitment. But of course, he wanted to make a bit more official. NOTES | It's really short, like just and idea I had on my notes when I was listening American Wedding by Frank Ocean. But I hope y'all enjoy. Also, dividers by @cafekitsune WARNINGS/TAGS | Oneshot, fluff, wedding proposal, f!reader RATING | Teen

"Well, you can have my Mustang." He drawled, voice low and quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the night. "That's all I got in my name."

You glanced up at him, the moonlight casting faint shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that came with the life he led. His eyes, usually hard and distant, were softer now, vulnerable even. Arthur Morgan was not a man who gave easily, and yet, here he was, offering you what little he had—his horse, his loyalty, his heart.

You had thought about marriage before—when you were younger, when life seemed simpler and oblivious. But the image had always been different: a small church, family gathered, maybe even a white dress. Not this—lying on a dusty cot, surrounded by the wilderness, with Arthur Morgan of all people. But that was the thing about life, wasn’t it? It never turned out quite like you imagined.

"Arthur..." You whispered, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about his Mustang. This was Arthur’s way of saying everything—his past, his future, his soul. You could feel his uncertainty, the tension in the way his fingers hovered slightly above you bare arm, as if he was waiting for you to make a move, to push him away, to tell him no.

But you didn’t want to. God, you would be out of your damn mind if you say no.

You reached up, placing your hand on his, stilling his gentle caress. His hand was large, warm, and rough from years of hard work. It grounded you, made you feel safe in this world of chaos. "I don’t need a Mustang, Arthur." You murmured, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. "I need you."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, no one spoke. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a reminder of the man beneath the outlaw. You could see the boy in he for the first time, a glimpse of your children. You wondered if he ever imagined this for himself, or if he thought he was too far gone for something like love, like commitment.

"I ain’t got much to offer." he finally said, voice hushed, like he was scared the words might break something between you. "Ain’t never been good at... well, any of this. You know that."

You smiled softly, shifting closer to him. "You’re enough, Arthur. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you, as if he were trying to make sense of how someone could want him—just him. The world had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and in many ways, it had hardened him. But beneath the roughness, the gruff words and guarded glances, there was a man who felt deeply, who cared more than he let on.

As if making a decision, Arthur suddenly shifted beside you, reaching into the pocket of his worn coat. You watched, curious, as he fumbled for a moment before pulling something out—a small, delicate ring. The band was thin, silver, and simple, with no extravagant jewels, but to you, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He held it out to you, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Picked it up in town a while back." he admitted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Didn’t know if you’d... well, if you’d want it. Ain’t much, but it’s real silver."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. The fact that Arthur had gone out of his way to find a ring, something so traditional, so symbolic, meant more than words could express. You could see the way he was looking at you, searching for some kind of approval, some sign that this was right.

"Arthur..." You whispered, the voice breaking slightly. "It’s beautiful."

Without another word, he took your left hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. Slowly, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit snugly, as though it had been made for you, and the cool metal sent a shiver through your skin. The moment felt timeless, as if you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the quiet wilderness and the faint glow of the stars.

"There." he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now it’s official, I guess."

You couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This was not the wedding you had once imagined, but in every way that mattered, it was better. Arthur Morgan was yours, and you was his, bound not by law or tradition, but by something deeper—something unbreakable.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the noses brushing, breaths mingling in the cool night air. "I love you, Arthur Morgan." You whispered, the voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, his lips pressing softly to your temple. "I love you too." he murmured, the words coming out rough, like they were foreign to him. But they were real, and that’s all that mattered.

As you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you looked down at the ring now glinting on your finger. It was simple, yes, but it was yours. Arthur leaned forward, lifting your chin to gave you a kiss. You happily returned, your bodies shifting closer as he embrace you and the lips moved together.

"But Jesus Christ don't break my heart." He whispered. The warm breath brushed on your lips, making you want to kiss him again.

"This wedding ring won't ever wipe off." You promised to him, whispering back.

[l4ndonorizz]

coffee and charm / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: don toliver - new drop

summary: flirty banter with Lando Norris at the coffee shop turns into something more as sparks fly between cups of coffee and charming smiles

wc: 1.1k

The familiar chime of the doorbell rang, and without even glancing up from the counter, you knew who it was. Lando Norris had become a regular at the coffee shop, his visits almost as predictable as the ticking clock. You could practically feel his presence in the air, the easy confidence he always carried following him like a shadow.

You looked up with a smile as he approached the counter. “Same as usual?” you asked, already reaching for the espresso beans you knew he liked.

Lando leaned against the counter, that familiar mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll surprise you today.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Really? Finally switching things up? Shocking.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, better not. Stick with what works.” There was a playful glint in his eye, the same one that made your heart do a tiny, involuntary flip every time he walked in. It was ridiculous, really. He was just a customer, and yet there was something about the way he lingered around you—something unspoken but palpable.

You started making his usual order, the quiet hum of the espresso machine filling the air as the shop’s late evening lull settled in. There were no other customers at the moment, just the soft murmur of music in the background and the gentle clinking of ceramic cups. It was the kind of calm that let the silence stretch comfortably between you two.

As you handed him his coffee, your fingers brushed against his, and you swore you felt a jolt of electricity. Maybe it was just your imagination, but Lando’s eyes flicked down to your hand for the briefest second before he smiled again, the moment passing like a secret only the two of you shared.

“Slow night, huh?” he asked, still not moving from his spot at the counter.

You nodded, wiping your hands on the apron tied around your waist. “Yeah, it’s been like this all day. Nice change of pace, though.”

Lando took a sip from his cup, his gaze never leaving yours. “Then I guess I picked the right time to come by.”

There was something in his tone, something quieter than usual. The playful energy between you two had always been there, but tonight, it felt heavier, more charged. Like neither of you was quite sure what the next move would be, but neither wanted to be the first to break the tension.

“You could sit down, you know,” you suggested, surprising even yourself with the boldness of the offer. “If you don’t have anywhere to be, that is.”

Lando looked around the empty shop, his grin widening as if he liked the idea. “Alright, why not?”

He picked a seat at the bar by the window, and you followed suit, wiping down the counter nearby to keep busy. But really, it was just an excuse to stay close.

“Busy day?” you asked, making small talk but feeling the buzz of something deeper under your words.

Lando shrugged. “The usual. But honestly? I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning on the counter. “What, your coffee?”

He laughed, the sound deep and warm. “Sure, let’s call it that.” His eyes flicked to yours, lingering in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

The conversation between you flowed easily, the two of you slipping into familiar banter. There was something about Lando—his charm, his sense of humor—that made it easy to lose track of time. You found yourself laughing more than usual, enjoying the way he leaned in when he talked, how he seemed genuinely interested in every word you said.

“Tell me,” Lando said after a while, his tone more serious, “how is it that you’ve met me here so many times and never mentioned you’re into F1?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Maybe I was waiting for the right moment. Or maybe I just didn’t want to feed your ego.”

Lando’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Oh, so that’s how it is? I thought we had something special going here.”

You leaned against the counter, the space between you shrinking just a little. “I guess you’ll have to work harder for that ‘special’ status. How do you know I’m into F1 anyways?”

“Oh, I found your Instagram profile. You follow a lot of my friends.”

You blinked in surprise, the playful teasing slipping into something more personal. “My Instagram?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. “Stalking me, are we?”

Lando shrugged, his grin widening. “Let’s just say I did my homework. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly a Red Bull fan or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Can’t be. My mom knows Charles’ mom, so you can’t root for anyone but Ferrari.”

His grin widened at that. “So you’ve got Ferrari loyalty in your blood, huh? Guess that means I’ve got some serious competition.”

You leaned in, elbows resting on the counter, enjoying the shift from playful banter to something more charged. “Oh yeah? Who says I’m even rooting for you?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “I’ll just have to work harder to get your attention then, won’t I?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe. Depends on what you’ve got planned.”

Lando chuckled, looking like he was enjoying the challenge. “How about this: When you're done here, I'll pick you up and give you a ride in a proper car with a proper driver, of course."

You felt your pulse quicken at Lando’s suggestion, the playful gleam in his eyes hinting that he wasn’t just talking about a simple drive. “A proper car, huh? What are we talking? One of those fancy McLarens you love to show off?”

Lando leaned in just a bit closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’ll have to wait and see. I don’t give away all my surprises up front.”

Your smirk widened as you held his gaze. “Well, I’m finished in an hour. Think you can keep up?”

He laughed, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

The intensity between you two grew, the space between you almost nonexistent now. The casual flirting had shifted into something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

As he stepped back, still holding your gaze, Lando reached into his pocket, pulling out his keys with a grin. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

You nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling inside you. “Don’t go getting cold feet.”

His eyes glinted with a playful fire. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[judebellswife]

Full Name Frenzy

— pairing • dad!jude bellingham x mom!reader

— summary • You, Jude Bellingham’s fun-loving girlfriend, team up with his entire family to pull off a hilarious TikTok prank where you call him by his full name in front of everyone. The plan is perfect: everyone’s in on the joke, except Jude. His adorable daughter, Rosie, steals the show with her hilarious reaction, turning the prank into a memorable family moment filled with love and laughter.

— warnings • Fluff overload, light teasing, adorable family dynamics, and lots of banter.

— wanna talk or send request • to charlotte

It was a calm, sunny Sunday afternoon at the Bellingham family house—one of those rare lazy days when everyone could simply relax and enjoy each other's company. The smell of a home-cooked lunch lingered in the air as the house buzzed with light conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. It was a perfect family day, but for you, it was the perfect setup for a prank you had been planning for days.

As you sat on the living room couch with your boyfriend, Jude Bellingham, and your three-year-old daughter Rosie, you were practically giddy with excitement. The idea had started as a harmless joke when you stumbled upon a viral TikTok trend. It was simple: call your partner by their full name and capture their reaction. But knowing Jude’s playful personality and the fact that he was surrounded by his family—his parents Denise and Mark, and his younger brother Jobe—you couldn’t resist going all in.

It was about time to pull off the prank, but not without some help from Jude’s family.

The night before, after Jude had gone to bed, you had shared your plan with the rest of the family, gathering them in the kitchen for a secret discussion.

“So, I’ve got a prank in mind,” you whispered with a grin, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Jude wasn’t anywhere near. “And I need all of you to help me pull it off.”

Denise and Mark immediately perked up. Denise smiled warmly as she leaned against the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh, I love a good prank. What are we doing?”

You explained the viral TikTok trend and how you planned to call Jude by his full name—Jude Victor William Bellingham—in front of everyone. The key to the prank was keeping a straight face and making Jude think he was in some serious trouble, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Mark chuckled, already seeing how Jude might react. “You know he’s going to be confused as hell. He never hears his full name unless it’s something serious.”

Denise nodded enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “And he hasn’t been called that since he was a little boy. I’m in.”

Jobe, who had been listening while casually scrolling through his phone, suddenly grinned. “Wait, you want us all to act like Jude’s in trouble? Oh, I’m so in for this. I’ll make it dramatic.”

You laughed, already imagining Jobe hamming it up and making Jude’s confusion even worse. “Exactly! He won’t know what hit him. I’m going to start it off casually, and then we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Denise giggled like a schoolgirl. “I can’t wait to see his face.”

“And don’t worry,” you added with a wink. “Rosie will have the final word. She’s going to unknowingly seal the deal.”

Mark laughed and nodded approvingly. “You’re using our granddaughter as the secret weapon. Smart move.”

The plan was set. You all knew your roles. Now, all you had to do was wait until tomorrow.

The next day, everything felt perfect. The family had gathered in the living room after a hearty lunch. Jude, unaware of what was coming, was lounging comfortably on the couch next to you, scrolling through Netflix and mindlessly suggesting shows to watch.

Your daughter, Rosie, was sitting on the floor, her tiny fingers wrapped around the plastic handles of her dolls as she hummed happily to herself. Jude’s parents, Denise and Mark, sat across the room in armchairs, chatting softly, while Jobe sprawled out on the other couch, pretending to be deep into his phone, but really waiting for his moment to strike.

You caught Denise’s eye from across the room, and she gave you a small, conspiratorial nod. It was time.

You leaned back against the cushions, acting as casual as you could, before dropping the bomb. “Jude Victor William Bellingham,” you said, your voice carrying just enough weight to suggest seriousness, but not too much to make it sound fake.

Jude’s body froze. He turned slowly to look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?” he said, blinking at you as if you had just said something in a foreign language.

You stared back at him, keeping your face completely neutral. “You heard me,” you said with a deadpan expression. “Jude Victor William Bellingham.”

The room fell silent. Denise lowered her cup of tea slowly, her eyes widening in what could only be described as mock concern. Mark raised an eyebrow from behind his newspaper, peeking over the top like he was waiting for some kind of explanation. Even Jobe, who had been doing his best to act oblivious, now sat up straighter, his mouth open in exaggerated shock.

“Bro,” Jobe muttered, shaking his head dramatically. “Not the full name. You’re in deep now.”

Jude looked around the room, his expression one of total confusion. “What the hell is going on? Why are you using my full name like that?”

Denise, ever the supportive mom, chimed in softly, her voice laced with concern. “Sweetheart, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jude exclaimed, laughing nervously, but still visibly unsettled by the sudden use of his full name. “Why is everyone acting like I’ve committed some crime?”

You tried your hardest to maintain your composure, but it was difficult. Jude’s face was a mix of disbelief, nervousness, and slight panic, like he was trying to figure out if there was some major mistake he didn’t remember making.

Jobe, of course, leaned into the drama, shaking his head slowly. “Nah, bro, when they drop your full name like that, it’s over. You’ve done something. Just admit it now and save yourself.”

Jude looked genuinely baffled now, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I haven’t done anything! I swear!”

You kept your serious expression, though inside you were practically bursting with laughter. “Jude Victor William Bellingham,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable for extra effect. “I can’t believe you don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jude threw his hands up in the air, looking helplessly around the room. “I’m telling you, I’ve got no idea! Mum, Dad, help me out here!”

Denise shrugged, her lips pressed together as if she were trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t know, Jude. She used your full name. You must have done something.”

At this point, Mark lowered his newspaper fully, folding it on his lap as he gave Jude a sympathetic look. “Son, full names are no joke. Maybe it’s time to come clean.”

Jude groaned, still laughing but now visibly confused and stressed. “But there’s nothing to come clean about! You’re all ganging up on me for no reason!”

That’s when Rosie, who had been mostly absorbed in her dolls, suddenly looked up. Her big brown eyes, wide and full of innocence, locked onto her father. She paused for a moment, processing the serious tone everyone had adopted, before deciding it was time for her input.

In the sweetest, most innocent voice, she pointed a tiny finger at Jude and said, “Oooooh, Dada, you’re in soooo much trouble.”

That was it. The room erupted into chaos. Jobe doubled over, clutching his stomach as he let out a loud laugh. Denise was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, while Mark chuckled deeply, unable to contain himself. You couldn’t hold it in any longer either, bursting into giggles as Rosie’s serious tone tipped everyone over the edge.

Jude, now laughing but still utterly bewildered, pulled Rosie into his lap, covering her face with kisses as she squealed with delight. “You little traitor!” he teased, tickling her until she shrieked with laughter. “Even you’re turning against me?”

Rosie wiggled in his arms, still giggling as she buried her face into his chest. “Dada in trouble!” she squeaked, clearly enjoying the attention and the fact that she had somehow been part of the big prank.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, finally catching your breath. “You should’ve seen your face, Jude. You looked like you were trying to figure out if you’d broken the law or something!”

Jude shook his head, though his smile was wide and affectionate. “I genuinely thought I’d forgotten something major, like our anniversary or Rosie’s birthday or—I don’t even know!” He laughed, running a hand through his hair again. “You got me good, I’ll give you that.”

Denise, still recovering from her laughter, smiled warmly at you. “That was brilliant, darling. You’ve officially outdone yourself.”

Mark nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen Jude look so lost in my life. Well done.”

Jobe, who had been leaning back on the couch with a smug grin, chimed in. “I’ll give you points for execution, but honestly, Rosie’s line took it to a whole new level. That was gold.”

Rosie, still sitting in Jude’s lap, seemed to sense that she had become the star of the show. She smiled proudly, looking up at her father with wide eyes. “I got you, Dada,” she said softly, and Jude’s heart melted on the spot.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a big hug. “Yeah, you did, little one. You’re too smart for your own good.”

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. What had started as a lighthearted prank had turned into one of those perfect family moments—filled with love, laughter, and the kind of joy that only comes from being surrounded by the people who matter most.

Jude leaned back, cradling Rosie against his chest, and gave you a playful look. “You realize this means war, right? There’s no way I’m letting you get away with this.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if you think you’re getting away with pranks this easily, you’re in for a surprise.”

Mark, who had returned to his newspaper, chuckled quietly. “Careful, son. She’s got Rosie on her side. You don’t stand a chance.”

Jobe snickered. “Yeah, man. You’re outnumbered.”

Denise, always the peacemaker, leaned forward and patted Jude’s knee. “Well, at least now you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a prank. I’d say it builds character.”

Jude groaned dramatically but squeezed Rosie a little tighter, his playful eyes never leaving yours. “I guess this is what I get for falling in love with a prankster.”

You leaned in closer, your voice soft but teasing. “And don’t forget, I’ve got the ultimate prank partner right here.” You gestured toward Rosie, who had already snuggled into Jude’s chest, her tiny hand gripping his shirt as she started to doze off after all the excitement.

Jude smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Yeah, yeah. I guess if it’s you two, I can handle a little trouble.”

As the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple joys of family life. The prank had been a success, sure, but more than that, it was moments like these—filled with love, laughter, and the people you loved most—that made everything feel just right.

And as you snuggled up next to Jude, Rosie sound asleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what, these were the moments that would stick with you forever.

[honeyed-nothings]

To Have a Crush: Savanaclaw

Warning(s): Gender-neutral reader, not proof-read, OOC

Notes: Procrastination hit me hard…also I did not expect to spend an hour finding decent enough emoticons for them. May just switch to regular bullet point style someday since I’m still trying to figure out what format I like(╥_╥). Never realized how hard it was to make a pretty format on tumblr until now. Also I’ve gotten pretty rusty too but my schedule has finally cleared up a bit so I’ll be able to be a little more active now!

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Leona Kingscholar

𓄂 A crown of love that the king wears. A herbivore was all you were to him. Another nameless face in the faceless crowd of people who he couldn’t care less about in the grand scheme of things. That’s how it was supposed to stay…until it didn’t. The proud lion will never admit this (or at least not anytime soon) but that day where you, a weak and stupidly stubborn human, stood your ground among all the dust and debris was both one of the most frustrating experiences in his life and also the first time he ever thought of you as ‘strong’. Every so often he thinks back to that moment and sighs before pulling you towards him to lay on the grass.

𓄂 A king should always be accompanied by his retainers. However, he’s not king and you’re definitely not his retainer. Just a stubborn herbivore who happened to catch his eye, that’s all. You’re not that great as an errand runner either but it’s better than just one. A help that Ruggie greatly appreciates but occasionally complains about how you always take the lighter load. Don’t think much about it, he just doesn’t want you messin’ up or anythin’. Strangely, whenever you do run errands for him, there’s conviently always an extra that he gives to you. Reasoning to you that the King of Beasts would’ve done the same thing to those under his care. The proud lion knows this is a lie he can’t keep using to play off what he feels inside. Not when his own ears and tail betray him.

𓄂 Tch, well this is embarrassing.

𓄂 Maybe it was a good thing that Leona already knew. From the moment his tail unconsciously wrapped around you, he knew what his heart was telling him as it beat in his chest. There, with you and him napping underneath the shade of a tree, he realized he had fallen in love. He didn’t know whether he should’ve laughed or cursed the world so he chose to do neither instead. Gently brushing a stray leaf off that had fallen on your face, he chuckled. Guess something like love ain’t all that bad.

𓄂 A crownless lion who’s more hated than loved and a visitor from a place far from here. An interesting duo you two make as he pulls you yet again away from class to nap in the shade with him. His attempts at catching your heart aren’t too noticeable, only noticed by the keenest of eyes. He’ll never be the ideal partner, that he acknowledges despite his pride. But being sappy and overly romantic isn’t his style. That’s why, he’ll win your heart in his own way. A path perhaps not that of a king, but of a man in-love. The prideful lion may not bow his head to no one, but for you he’ll take a knee.

“Huh, well aren’t you gettin’ bolder? I didn’t think you’d beat me to it.”

Ruggie Bucchi

シ Hidden amidst the dirt and grime was love. It’s ingrained into Ruggie to look after people but he’s learnt to not let it be given without a price. Outside of his family and Leona, the latter of whom was more so to help his own skin, he didn’t exactly feel any desire or need to look after you. Sure he felt pity, after all you’re in a tighter spot than him in the world, but aside from that you were just an after thought. Nobody of note that could be beneficial to him in any way. That was until Leona overbloted and well…he’s somewhat grateful that you don’t have much of a survival instinct. You’re a real goody two-shoes aren’t you? Still, he’s thankful that you’re the way that you are. Hyenas never forget a debt and this one he owes to you alone.

シ It really just started off with it being to repay his debt to you. Sure it’s not much but he can’t really do anything fancy like paying you millions of madols or giving you land. That’s why, the hyena has chosen to pay it back his own way. Simple as it may be, it’s all he really has to offer. It’s not like watching your back is gonna cause him anymore work than he’s already got. Soon enough, he found himself doing more than what he intended to. Giving parts of his lunch to you, claiming he didn’t feel like it or there was extra. Stopping during his errands whenever he spotted you to have a quick chat before going off again with slightly more enthusiasm than before. Or heck, sparing you a few madols so you can get what you need. It’s kinda a loss but he just can’t seem to make himself stop. Not when you smile at him so brightly.

シ Wait a minute.

シ Nah…nahh he can’t seriously be in love with you or somethin’, right? Being close to you is just to pay off his debt, not cause he actually likes your company or anything, right?? But as his eyes catch his reflection on the window panes of the college, he can no longer deny the blush on his face or the rapid beating of his heart as the thought of you runs rampant in his mind once again. Well, guess there’s no point in fidgeting around anymore.

シ He’s not much, really he ain’t. Ruggie knows he won’t hold a candle to anyone else in the school in terms of magic or madol but what he does have is his smarts. In his own way, he’ll try and appeal to you. Sometimes he’s confident, other times he feels like he wants to die from how embarrassing it must’ve looked. Still, he tries and tries and tries. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll choose him buried underneath piles of trash.

“You-…you’re really choosing me?”

Jack Howl

ᴥ︎ Love that resounds throughout the night. A team up was all Jack figured it’d be. An agreement to right the wrongs and set things straight so that one day, once more, Savanaclaw would be able to say from the bottom of their hearts that they won. Nothing big enough to lead into the friendship that came to be between you and him. Well then things took a turn for the worse and then the better and well…he’s sure you get it. An accident, a friendship, a bond, whatever it is, the stubborn wolf has decided that he’ll have your back. No matter what and no matter where, he’ll help you out.

ᴥ︎ Respect was all it was. A respect towards a magicless human who proved their own strength by courageously standing in the face of death. Not everyone has a spirit like that and the wolf beastman couldn’t help but look at that and think ‘Ah, now that’s strength’. In doing so, he wanted to be respected by you too. That’s why, when he could, he’d wait outside Ramshackle and walk with you to your classes, carrying your books and providing an umbrella if it’s a rainy day. Need help on the homework? He won’t tell you the answers but he’ll help you figure it out at least. Like working out? Great! He’s more than willing to provide some tips and tricks to achieving the goal you want. Well it wasn’t until Ruggie teased him about how much more happy he seemed doing all that stuff for you that it finally clicked for him. This…isn’t good.

ᴥ︎ D-don’t misunderstand him!

ᴥ︎ Actually no, maybe you should— wait no you shouldn’t! Jack doesn’t know how to feel about…this now that he fully recognizes it. Well- he does, in a way, it’s just…complicated. To be honest, he did have a suspicion that his feelings of respect towards you had turned into something deeper. How fast his tail wagged whenever you were nearby, how he wanted to put even more effort into whatever he was doing when you were watching, how red his face turned whenever he took a ‘secret’ glance in your direction, it really was way too obvious looking back on it.

ᴥ︎ Wolf-type beastmen only have one partner for the rest of their lives. Dedicating themselves entirely to whoever their partner may be. Jack always dreamed of finding his one true partner, he just never expected it to happen so soon. Yes, a crush to him counts as his one true love as childish as it may be. With exactly zero romantic experience under his belt and only equipped with the knowledge of the multiple times his parents told him their love story, he attempts to appeal to you. Surprisingly, for a first timer in love, they’re all thought out and not embarrassing. Jack isn’t good at hiding how feels about you in front of you or anyone else, but it has a certain charm to it. The charm of an adolescent boy in love who cares for you quietly, unable to hide how he feels, as his heart and tail follow the same beat.

“..Phew, you’re here. Prefect, I—uh need to tell you something.”