#at least we spent one last night together

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[satinestales]

❝between truth and desire❞ | armand x fem!reader

pairing: armand x fem!reader, 4k+ words

summary: As you and Armand recount your shared history to your old friend Daniel Molloy, your words falter, and your memories blur under the weight of time and emotion. Later, Armand ensures you remember exactly how it truly happened—or at least, how he wants you to.

warnings: armand's manipulative gremlin ass, sexual tension, mind control?, unrealistic version of top armand, blood play, blood-sucking as a form of oral sex, not proofread, mention of claudia's death, english is not my native english

For the past three hours, you’ve been reminiscing about your life in 1940s Paris with your old friend, now a successful journalist. It’s been surprisingly easy, sharing those memories of joy and excitement, especially with Armand by your side. Daniel’s sarcastic comments make you laugh, keeping the mood light even when the stories dip into something more bittersweet.

Armand’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. That small, familiar touch pulls you back into the past, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you’re there again—back in Paris, on your very first date.

You shared stories about the Théâtre des Vampires, describing its grandeur and eerie charm in vivid detail. Armand never interrupted, just sat quietly beside you, listening. Every so often, he’d chime in, adding little details you’d forgotten, his voice soft and steady. It felt natural, the two of you piecing the memories together like a story only you could tell.

Every eye in the room was on you, the silence in the mansion broken only by your voice. It was steady, serious, as you recounted those final days in the coven—when the air grew colder and the others fell quiet. You remembered how Louis had sensed it first, even before Claudia or Madeleine. And you remembered it too, that creeping tension, the way it lingered unspoken.

But here and now, you spoke of it clearly, without a single stutter.

"It was a cold night when I woke up," you began, your voice calm despite the weight of the memory. "Louis was already gone, and I couldn’t find any trace of Claudia." Armand’s hand rested gently on your thigh, comforting you, while Daniel’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. "I assumed they’d gone out together," you continued, glancing down for a moment, "since I’d spent the last few days with my love."

You felt Armand shift beside you, his lips curling into a faint smile as he tilted his head, studying you with that quiet intensity. Even after all these years, that look still had the power to make you blush.

"About four hours later, there was a knock at our door," you said, your voice wavering between fear and sarcasm. "I hadn’t invited anyone, so I figured it was Armand dropping by for one of his unannounced visits. But when I opened the door..." You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly at the memory.

"Santiago was standing there," you continued, "and behind him were Celeste and Estelle, both wearing those ridiculous judges' wigs." The words spilled out, edged with a dry, bitter humor that couldn’t quite mask the unease curling in your chest.

You couldn’t help but hear Daniel’s chuckle at the mention of the wigs, but it didn’t faze you. You pressed on, even though you felt Armand’s gaze shift, no longer warm or affectionate. It had become something colder, sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“I woke up in the theater, on the stage,” you continued, your voice steadier now, the weight of the memory pressing down. “Claudia, Louis, and Madeleine were next to me. Our Achilles’ heels torn, so we couldn’t run.”

You felt the silence stretch, thick with tension. Even Daniel’s amusement seemed to fade as your words lingered in the air, heavy with the truth of what had come next.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I assume they put you on trial? For what, exactly? Killing Lestat, I presume?”

You could only nod, the memories flooding back in a rush. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to push them back, but they lingered like a shadow, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“And where was your love, Armand?” Daniel asked, now turning his gaze to Armand, who hadn’t shifted an inch. He was eerily still, his eyes fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.

The silence that followed was thick, like a fog that refused to lift. Armand’s presence filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his attention pressing against you, more suffocating than comforting.

"I have to jump in here," Armand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mocking. "I think my love's memory is a little foggy."

You were forced to look at him, his words pulling your gaze like a magnet. His lips curled into a crooked smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes—dull, black, devoid of warmth—stared at you with an unsettling calm, as if he were carefully rearranging the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t fully understand.

"I know how the trial happened," you said, forcing a smile at him, trying to reclaim some control. "You don’t have to speak for me."

Armand’s hand, which had been lightly resting on your thigh, stilled. The tension between you thickened, but he didn’t back down.

"I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important," he replied, his voice smooth, though the undertone of something darker lingered. "But if we want the people to know the truth, we should give it to them. Don’t you think so?"

He tilted his head again, studying you with a gaze that felt both tender and unsettling. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your ear. His touch, so gentle, pulled a reaction from you before you could stop it. You leaned into it, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, despite the coldness in his eyes. It was a comforting, familiar warmth, but it made your heart skip nonetheless.

"So what exactly happened?" Daniel asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for an answer, his eyes flicking between you and Armand.

Before you could respond, Armand’s voice sliced through the air, gentle but commanding, as though he had already decided the direction this conversation would go.

You wanted to speak, to reclaim the words, but your mouth wouldn’t move. It was as if your mind had sealed your mouth shut, leaving you unable to break the silence Armnd had claimed. You sat frozen, a quiet tension building, unable to shake the feeling that the answer would come from him and not you.

"I want to apologize for the false answer you were given," Armand said, his voice smooth and reassuring, though there was an underlying edge to it. "Nobody can blame her. It’s been a few decades, after all."

His thumb began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, an attempt to soothe the growing tightness in your chest, but his words felt like a weight on your heart.

"I was aware of the coven's plan," he continued, his gaze never leaving you, "and went to warn my dear American friends. But when I arrived, I could find only mon cœur."

He turned to you then, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. The warmth of it washed over you, but there was something distant in his eyes, as though he were pulling you into a memory you couldn’t quite grasp.

You didn’t remember the way he described it, not at all. But as he spoke, you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe, after all these years, it was easy to forget.

It took another three hours before Daniel finally asked for a break, suggesting that the conversation continue the next day. You didn’t object; in fact, you welcomed the pause. Armand, as always, was by your side, leading you toward your bedroom.

As he walked behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough that you could almost cut it with scissors. You’d made a mistake today, one that almost painted Armand in a bad light. You couldn’t say you were scared—not exactly—but you weren’t thrilled either.

The quiet weight of his presence behind you was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what to expect once the door closed behind you, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

You expected Armand to speak once the door was closed and locked, but he remained silent, allowing the quiet to settle between you. The stillness wrapped around both of you as you went about getting ready for bed, the only sound was the soft rustling of fabric and the distant hum of the house.

But as you changed into your bedrobe, you felt it—his gaze, heavy and unwavering, burning into your back. His eyes followed the curves of your body, lingering on every movement, never once leaving you. It was unnerving, that constant watchfulness, like he was cataloging each detail of you, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to look back.

It wasn’t until you lay back on the bed, stealing glances from where you sat, that you watched Armand get comfortable in the robe you’d bought him. He didn’t rush, moving with a natural ease that always seemed deliberate, as though every gesture was meant to be noticed.

He was beautiful in a way that never stopped catching you off guard. Like when his hair fell in loose waves, brushing just over his eyes, and even the slight crook of his nose added to his charm, making him seem more real, more human—if only just. You couldn’t help but admire him, even after all this time.

He knew it. Of course, he did. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. He didn’t need to meet your gaze to know you were watching. He always knew when your attention was on him—and he soaked it in like sunlight.

"The conversation almost got out of control today," Armand said, his voice breaking the silence. He turned to face you, his head tilted in that way he always did, his eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe.

"I'm sorry," you said with a soft chuckle, your gaze warm as you looked up at him. As he stepped closer, his presence seemed to fill the room, his figure towering over you in that quiet, commanding way of his.

"Guess I got the facts wrong," you continued, your tone light but unsure. "Even though... I can’t quite recall the version you described to Daniel."

He stayed quiet for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. It felt like he was trying to see right through you, to penetrate your thoughts and mind with nothing more than a look.

You knew he could. He was an ancient vampire, after all, with gifts far more powerful than most could comprehend. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away. Armand would never take advantage of that, not with you.

You loved him too much to doubt him, even for a second. And perhaps, deep down, you knew that was exactly what he wanted—to be loved without question.

"My dear," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he slowly bent his knees, kneeling in front of you. His hands rested lightly on your ankles, grounding you as you propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"It’s been decades," he continued, his tone gentle, almost comforting. "It’s only natural to forget or mix things up. After all, I was there to correct you. Nothing bad happened." His lips curved into a smirk, the words flowing sweetly, meant to soothe.

But as his gaze lingered on you, you couldn’t help but catch it—the faint spark of coldness in his eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, sharp as a blade hidden behind silk.

"I’m always going to be there," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved slowly, trailing up from your ankle to your knee, the touch light but unyielding.

He never broke eye contact, his gaze locking you in place. There was something possessive in the way he looked at you, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the weight of his promise, the intensity of his presence, was enough to make you quiver.

"Good," you said with a nod, doing your best to ignore the warmth swirling in your stomach. Even after seventy years, he still had that effect on you. You chuckled, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Because I’ll hunt you down if you ever dare to leave."

Your tone was light, but the weight behind your words was anything but. You meant it. Armand had his secrets, just as you had yours, but one thing you shared was an obsession—an all-consuming need for each other.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him; in truth, you could barely remember the life you had before him. as though the years before he arrived had been erased. Every memory you held close revolved around him, around the two of you together.

And you were determined to keep it that way. Forever.

"I would never," he said softly, a small smile gracing his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was brief but filled with warmth, meant to reassure you, to steady the swirling emotions inside.

As he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "I didn’t tell Mr. Molloy the whole truth. When I went to warn you... I left out some things."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your heart pounding as you hung on to his every word. "What’s that?" you asked, your voice soft, as you reached up to gently place your hand on his cheek.

He looked almost unreal, like a sculpture of a devil—sinful, beautiful. The candlelight bathed him in a warm glow, casting shadows that only deepened the beauty of him. His dark skin seemed to drink in the light as if he were made of something otherworldly.

You had seen angels before, in your long life, but none could compare to the beauty of the devil kneeling between your legs. The one who had always held you in his thrall. The one you could never, ever escape.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his presence fill the space between you, his body slowly overpowering yours. With a gentle but firm push, he guided you onto your back, the weight of him settling above you, dominating yet tender. His lips found the crook of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your skin, while his hands drifted down to your waist, pulling you closer.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as his lips traveled to your collarbone, each kiss sending shivers of electricity down your spine. His touch was slow, deliberate, and as his fingers slid to the top of your robe, you could feel the tension in the air tighten around you.

"After you opened the door and I came to warn you about the coven’s plans..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as his hand lingered at the top of your robe, barely brushing your skin. He moved his lips over your neck, your jaw, finally finding yours in a deep, searching kiss. "I couldn't prevent it."

His kiss grew more intense, and you wanted to ask him why—why didn’t he stop? Why hadn’t you left? But before you could, his lips silenced you, pressing against yours as his other hand slipped beneath your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The warmth between you overwhelmed everything else, leaving you breathless and speechless, caught in the weight of the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You needed him in that moment, more than anything else in the world. Everything else—the journalist in your house, the unfinished conversation, the looming threats and dangers—disappeared. None of it mattered.

The only thing that existed was him—his touch, his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. Your mind raced with thoughts of him, drowning out every other sound, every other thought. Nothing else mattered. Just him. The feeling of him. The weight of his presence. That was all there was.

You felt his hand pull away from your chest, and a soft, frustrated sound escaped your lips in protest. But before you could voice more, he guided his wrist to your mouth. His eyes never left yours, dark and full of unspoken intentions.

You knew exactly what he wanted—what both of you craved. His pulse throbbed beneath your lips, and without hesitation, you sank your fangs into his wrist, the familiar, cinnamon taste of his blood filling your senses. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The warm droplets fell from your chin, tracing down your neck and chest, as you drank deeply, savoring every drop. His blood was always sweeter than you remembered, more potent, more familiar than anything else.

It felt like home.

You couldn't stop. Every drop of his blood filled you with a rush of heat, the world around you starting to blur as your senses sharpened. Your eyes closed instinctively, your head tilting back as pleasure coursed through you. His blood was intoxicating, and you were lost in it, unable to think of anything else.

The soft moans and whimpers escaping from Armand only pushed you further, each sound making you crave him more. You heard his voice, faint and distant, but it barely registered as you kept drinking, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands gripped you, but you hardly noticed, lost in the sensation of him.

You wanted more. Needed more. His blood, his presence, it was all that mattered. And for a moment, everything else faded away.

You didn’t know how long it had been—minutes, hours, maybe just seconds—lost in the feeling of his blood coursing through you. All you knew was the way his face shifted when he gently pulled his wrist from your mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His blood still lingered on your tongue, warm and intoxicating, slowly dripping down your chest as you let go of him, your body humming with the aftermath.

He loomed above you, but now his head rested against your chest, seeking solace in the warmth of your skin as his breath steadied. You stroked his hair, fingers threading through his dark curls, trying to ground him as much as yourself.

Your fingers traced the mess on your chest, and without thinking, you brought them to your lips, savoring the last lingering taste of him. The warmth, the sweetness, it felt like the only thing that mattered, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

As Armand rested on you, his breath warm against your chest, the fog in your mind began to clear, just a little. Flashes of the past few hours started to resurface—his visit, the warning about the coven, the tension in the air. It all felt distant, like you were trying to grasp a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto, but there it was. A few more pieces of the puzzle fitting together, the edges blurring into something you could finally begin to understand.

You couldn't remember how many times he'd done this—how many times he'd stepped in to help, to keep you from slipping into that haze, to save you from the things you couldn’t hold onto. Each time, he was there, gently piecing you back together, never asking for much in return. A small knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. Maybe you hadn’t realized how often he’d carried this weight for both of you.

But then you felt his hand tighten around your waist, his presence anchoring you, and that guilt faded away, swallowed by something deeper. It wasn't just about him fixing your memories. It was how, despite everything, he made you feel like you were never truly lost. Like you were still whole, still his.

"Je t’aime chaque jour davantage, Arun," you whispered, the words flowing from your lips like a secret you'd been holding onto for eternity.

Armand lifted his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. He was so consumed by you, so focused on every word, every look you gave him, that even the smallest detail, the evidence of your connection, went unnoticed. And for some reason, that made you smile.

"Je t’aime moi aussi, mon cœur," Armand murmured, his voice soft, reverent, as he rested his chin against your chest. His eyes, those dark pools of mystery, were half-lidded, and for a moment, you could see the rawness of his desire in the way his flushed cheeks caught the candlelight, his waves of dark hair falling over his forehead like a veil. The world outside of him and you ceased to exist.

You ran your fingers through his hair, losing yourself in the softness of it, in the way he seemed to melt against you. He was so beautiful, every inch of him a reminder of the eternity you'd spent together. He was warmth and darkness, light and shadow all at once—an enigma you couldn’t unravel, no matter how many lifetimes you lived.

Eternity would never be enough, not when it came to him. You needed him, needed to consume him. To become one with him in every sense of the word. Your lips ached to kiss him, not just his mouth, but his very skin, every inch of him, to touch the bones of him.

And he wanted the same.

You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, as if his very soul was entwined with yours. What you two shared wasn’t just love. It wasn’t just desire. It was an all-consuming need—an obsession that humans could never truly understand. It was a bond that reached beyond anything they could comprehend, an unspoken language of the heart and mind. You didn’t need to say it; you both knew.

There was no end to it. Only the now. Only him.

"I'm starting to remember," you murmured after a few quiet moments, feeling Armand settle closer beside you. His fingers lazily traced the fabric of your robe, a soft touch that made you feel safe, anchored. "When you came to warn me. It's still a little foggy, but it’s there. I’m sorry I doubted you."

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, calm and steady. The fragments were falling into place, his words reassuring you, reminding you of things you hadn't been able to fully grasp. His version of the events felt so right, so natural, and you couldn't help but let the memories shape themselves around what he had shared. You trusted him completely. And yet, beneath it all, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind wondered how easily you’d forgotten things before. But that thought was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving you only with the certainty of what Armand had guided you to remember.

"I'm glad you're remembering now," he whispered against your neck, his fangs grazing the delicate skin. "But if you ever forget something, I’ll always be here to help restore your memories."

A smile tugged at your lips as his hand slid beneath your robe, his fangs sinking into your neck, tasting your blood. The sensation was beyond anything you had ever imagined, a pleasure that consumed you completely. You leaned into his touch, surrendering to the feeling of his fangs, the weight of his presence, and the rhythm of his hunger.

With each kiss, each bite, your memories grew clearer. You could recall every detail of that night. Yes. He had come to warn you, just as he had said. Santiago was responsible for Claudia's death, and Lestat had helped orchestrate it. The truth was finally clear to you. You could only trust Armand. Everyone else had betrayed you, deceived you. In his arms, you found safety. On his tongue, you found clarity.

You would never let him go. He was yours, and you were his.

For all eternity.

[catghoul31]

Mandatory Snuggles

Wade had to go on a mission for a bit too long, in Logan’s mind. For this terrible crime, he is sentenced to snuggle jail for 5,000 years.

(For @poolverine-week Day 6: feral behavior)

No CWs this time, besides light-hearted canon typical behavior

Read it under the cut or on ao3!

“Logan? I’m back! Just killed a shit ton of people so we can make rent this month!!”

Normally, Wade’s entrance would be greeted by at least some sort of acknowledgement from Logan. A grunt if he was tired, a once-over to check for injuries- at least, the ones that took longer than a few seconds to heal- maybe even a kiss? He was really hoping for that last option today, it had been quite the adventure…

Instead, he got Blind Al barely nodding at him, mumbling something under her breath about how she ever got herself into Wade’s fucked up life- but thanks for getting us money this time, sweetheart- and Mary Puppins jumping on his leg as she usually did. Wade welcomed both greetings, especially the latter as he scooped the wrinkly dog into his arms and let her lick the remaining blood off of him, but where was Wolvie? His precious peanut? The best mutant ever and the light of his life- he always greeted him at the door! Something was up today…

“Wolvie?” he called out, still to no response. Huh- maybe he’d fallen asleep. He probably should’ve thought about that, actually, it was quite likely… at least, it would be if this wasn’t an afternoon hit! Those were always risky as fuck, and it was Logan dutifully cooking dinner whenever he got home from one of those that always brightened his spirits afterwards. He was the best boy ever, always doing the most for him and their little family, and he’d take the claws in his chest every single time he reminded him- even when he was distracting him from said cooking- because it was true!!

An afternoon nap wasn’t out of the question, though. It wasn’t like Wade was mad at him for not cooking, he’d never asked him to in the first place! No matter how many times he told Logan that he didn’t owe him anything, he still worked as if he did… ‘Worst Wolverine’ my ass!! Still, though, this was a different routine, and that couldn’t ever mean anything good!! It could mean that his little honey badger was suffering, or worse. Logan… hated him? Logan wanted him to rot on the street now? After eight months of being his boyfriend?? What other reason would he have to not give him a kiss after work? Surely it must be true. Wade went to check their shared room, just to be sure, and-

Oh. Oh my god. He would’ve taken a picture of this if he could, but why did this have to be the day his phone broke??

In the middle of their bed was Logan, curled up and purring in a pile of Wade’s clothes. He was wearing a pair of his sweats to boot- and did I mention that the entire room smelled like Wolvie right now?? It was the best smell ever- to my nose, at least. If only AO3 had a scratch-and-sniff feature… Wouldn’t that be something? Anyways, he was purring away in the clothing pile, clutching desperately to one of his many plushies- it looked like Hops the Frog was the lucky guy today!- but he didn’t seem completely content. Or completely asleep, either. Poor Logan’s face looked all scrunched up, and he was writhing around trying to get comfortable- kinda like the first few nights they spent together! What was he doing? More importantly… how was his Wolvie feeling??

“Hey, baby boy,” Wade cooed innocently enough, but Logan’s eyes still shot open and locked with his, daring him to say a word. Or were they? He wasn’t moving from where he was- if anything, he’d pressed his face further into the flannel shirt it was next to, breathing deeply through his nose… Ohhh! Did his kitty miss him? Was that the problem? This would be a quick fix, then… if Wolvie would let him in without any claws right now, that is.

“I’m back! I mean, you can probably see me, can’t you? How… how are you feeling, Wolvie?” he asked in a much softer tone than he’d normally use in a situation like this. Logan let out a low, quiet groan, serving as his only response to that question… Wade took off his own mask, the slight dampness in Logan’s eyes now noticeable to him. Oh, poor kitty… He really hoped he didn’t worry him too much, with how long his job had gone today, but it seemed like it was too late for that now. Right now, Wade needed to help his scrunkly scrimblo pookie bear feel better… Did he know what any of those words meant? Nope! But they were all Logan nonetheless.

The sad ball of Wolverine on his bed turned around, trying his best to hide his face from the world, and especially Wade. He knew how this went by now, as Logan still thought this side of himself was weird and embarrassing to witness. When he’d told him that the first time, Wade laughed and kissed his forehead gently- he was the poster child of all things weird and embarrassing! Logan had absolutely nothing to worry about, especially not if his big, dark secret was this adorable.

“Aw, peanut- if you wanna talk about it, I’m always down for a trauma-dumping session! I can take a load of emotional release dripping down my neck and chest any day…” Logan huffed, turning around briefly to shoot Wade a glare before curling in on himself again. If only he knew how to talk to anyone like a normal person. “Or not! You can just sit there, all comfy like the big kitty cat you are, and I can go get us some chimichangas! How about that?” he asked, giving Logan a minute incase he wanted to respond…

Still nothing. Damn! Usually, calling Wolvie a kitty (y’know, because he IS!!) always got a response from him. Claws through his shoulder, a grumble of “stop calling me that” or “that’s not even close to what a wolverine is, Wade, doesn’t make any damn sense-“ it all depended on the mood, really. This afternoon, it didn’t seem like Logan wanted to do anything except bury his face as far into those pink-hearted pajama bottoms as he could. Couldn’t he do that while he was wearing them…? Well, not right now, he couldn’t. Because it was sad Wolvie hours, apparently. And it was all his fault, so if he didn’t want to talk about it or eat about it…

Wade leaned over the bed to touch Logan’s head, rubbing the hair there gently. “What does my little Wolvie want, hm?” he asked him, as though he was talking to their dog instead- just before two massive arms leapt forward and pinned Wade to Logan. “AHH!! Shit, Logi, you could’ve just asked!!” he yelped, trying to wriggle himself into a comfier position against the heavier man- to absolutely no avail. “Not that I would ever say no to you, of course…”

If Wade shifted his head just so- tilted it upwards as much as he could, with it being smushed against his shoulder by an insistent hand, he could see Logan, as cute and dangerous as ever. His expression was uncharacteristically soft, and how could Wade forget that gorgeous rumbling he felt against his own chest? His purring… so loud and deep today, it was like he’d been gone for a month or something! It always felt so good against his sore body, though, that it made him want to press up against a happy Wolverine until the end of time…

“There’s my Wolvie… Did you miss me? I know, how dare capitalism keep me away from you, but I’ll always come back! I literally can’t disappear forever, and you know it…” Wade yammered on with that same loving tone, going to scratch Logan’s fluffy beard once he got one of his hands free. His purrs only increased, leaning into his palm and rubbing his chin against it insistently.

Once his hand was acceptably covered in Wolvie scent, Logan pressed his face against Wade’s neck, rubbing against it over and over. Wade knew that Logan doing this was just as much to cover himself in Wade’s scent as to scent-mark him possessively, and his heart melted into a puddle every time he did it. Now that his hair was thoroughly within reach, Wade couldn’t resist playing with it, especially when it made Logan purr even louder… After a few seconds of them doing this- so much petting and nuzzling anyone could confuse this scene with the average hotel room of two AnthroCon attendees- the tension in Wolvie’s body seemed to loosen considerably, making Wade smile with relief.

He leaned down, kissing the top of Logan’s head several times in rapid succession. Wade’s heart could’ve exploded at the way they made Logan melt in his arms... “See? You are a kitty, Wolvie! So demanding of my attention… I wonder what would happen if I pulled away for juuust a second-“ As soon as Wade’s hand left Logan’s head, he felt a hand reach back to push it back down, claw tips sticking out and everything!! “Hehehe, yep, I knew it!! So needy… You couldn’t even wait for me to come back to smell me again?” Wade’s clothes were still strewn about around Logan, one of his shirts wrapped around his neck. Wade knew he wouldn’t be washing that one for a while...

When Wolvie pulled back, he held Wade’s face firmly with both of his big hands (paws!!) and kissed him roughly. Wade sighed happily at the rough show of affection, feeling the desperation in the way Logan licked at his lips and returning his feverish pace as they made out passionately. Usually, Logan would’ve been the first to pull away, but Wade had to push at the fluffy bastard’s chest after a long while to free himself. Maybe he could die of suffocation via Wolvie kisses another time!

What certainly wouldn’t do, though, was the look of shame that barely flashed across Wolvie’s face the moment their lips parted. Wade never wanted Logan to feel like he was being too much- au contraire, he could never have enough of him! “Wolvie, sweetie pumpkin, look at me…” He caressed Logan’s face as he did as he was told- good boy, such a sweet boy… Wade kissed his forehead, booping his nose with his thumb at the same time. “Love you, kitty,” he mumbled, and though he wouldn’t hear the words back for a couple more hours, the way Logan pressed himself to his chest told Wade all his heart needed to hear.

“Sorry for not texting back, by the way. My phone got smashed to bits by an evil landlord. Yes, I know that’s redundant, dear reader, but this one liked to curb-stomp puppies! Oh, it was bad…”

Logan just kept purring away in his arms as he spoke nonsense as usual, but in the distance, Wade heard Blind Al find the wreckage he’d left on the counter- “This is the third one this month, Wade! God damn it all…”

Much to her chagrin, neither Logan nor Wade could bring themselves to care right now.

[harrycherryhigh]

Broke up with my man today for real this time

[kurthorton-moving]

feeling very 🧍‍♂️ may not be around for a bit

[morningmask27]

if I'm chattering about my friends/crush here all the time anyway, I have to admit that I have a severe aversion to philosophy after whatever the fuck happened the last year of secondary school (so the year right before university) and I have personal beef with Plato, but my crush is actually interested in that and tbh... I will not go out of my way to study it, but I would probably hang onto every word my crush would say about it and I should maybe tame my first reaction of distaste (though, the intro to philosophy class I had last year wasn't That Great either, so I don't have a lot of good experiences academically with that subject)

[pseudowho]

Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A fake soccer date

Summary: Joel asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get the soccer moms off his back. How convenient that you're both kind of in love with each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: no outbreak, friends to lovers, FAKE DATING, mentions of dead spouse, a little angst, soccer moms (ugh), fluff, making out, smut (protected sex), dirty talk, a lot of kissing, Joel being in love, banner just for the vibes

Part of Fake Dating drabbles

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You understood his weekly dread of going to Sarah’s soccer matches now. 

It wasn’t the soccer or the getting up at 6 am to drive to some god awful town hours away to watch a bunch of teenage girls play ball. 

It was the soccer moms.

And Joel was the only single Dad of the group. There was flirting. There were definitely not occasion appropriate attire and cleavage. There was touching. 

And that was only what you saw as you watched him in the middle of at least six women who were fussing over him like he was the only men left alive while you made your way towards the field from the parking lot. 

He had asked you before if you would accompany him to one of Sarah’s games. 

You had been neighbours since before Sarah was born. He had inherited the fixer upper next door when he just turned twenty and made the most out of it. You had seen his life fall apart within months from the moment he found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant not long after. They had tried to get back together again. 

It was you and your late husband Andrew who had been there for him once Sarah was born and his ex had left him alone. You probably spent more times in Joel’s house than your own in those first weeks, all of you being new to taking care of a new born. 

But Sarah made it easy. 

Andrew, Joel and you grew close in the coming years. 

So close that Joel was the first one you called when you were sitting in a hospital in the early morning hours after an accident on your way back from your summer vacation. 

An accident Andrew did not survive. 

He showed up an hour later with a sleeping Sarah in his arms, holding you all night as you cried into his shoulder. 

The time after that was blurry. But you knew Joel was there every single step through your grief, right beside you. 

He was your best friend. 

And as best friends it was okay to ask you to pretend to be dating him to get the soccer moms off his back, right?

It’s not like he knew that you kind of fell in love with him over the last year, right?

With a nervous inhale you put a smile on your face as you approached Joel from behind, his broad back standing out to you in between the moms who had only eyes for him. You put one of your arms around him as you sneaked to his side, feeling him stiffen for a moment as you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He smiled down at you, instantly relaxing, his arm coming around you to pull you closer against his side. 

„Hi,“ he smiled warmly and you smiled back. 

„Sorry I’m late. The line was endless,“ you lied and he chuckled. You felt his hand rest on your hip, squeezing you lightly. 

„Glad you could make it. Sarah is gonna be excited to see you,“ he said. Like you had not seen her yesterday when you had dinner together at your house. 

He kissed your temple and you closed your eyes for a moment before you turned your head too look at the people standing around you. The women were glaring at you and didn’t even attempt to hide it. 

„If you'll excuse me ladies. We got a match to watch,“ Joel said, not waiting for an answer before he pulled you towards the field, not letting go of you. 

„I can practically feel them trying to kill me with their eyes,“ you mumbled and he huffed a laugh. 

„I told you. I didn’t even do anything. They just appear out of thin air once I get here,“ he groaned and you rolled your eyes. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’d pretend to not now the looks he received from women around him. 

Joel Miller was a catch and everyone knew it. 

You came to stand at the fence separating the field and the audience, watching as the girls warmed up on the soccer field. Sarah saw you and waved wildly and you waved back with a bright smile. You felt Joel stand behind you, before his hands came down next to yours on the fence.

„Thank you for doing this,“ he hummed against your ear as he leaned down, his chin resting on your shoulder for a moment. You took a deep breath. 

„Anything for you,“ you mumbled, gasping when he fell into you against the fence, someone having pushed him. You heard him groan lowly against your ear, his body flush against yours. He took a step back immediately, turning to his side but you were pretty sure you had felt his hard bulge press into your ass for a second.

You turned your head to look at him, finding his cheeks a little flushed as he looked everywhere but at you. But before you could say anything the kids coach cheered the girls on and they got into position for the game to start.

And a couple minutes later Joel was standing behind you again, and you were leaning against his strong chest, one of his arms around your stomach as you watched his daughter play soccer on the field in front of you. 

„Are we…. Are we still pretending to be dating?“ You mumbled against his lips, your fingers unbuttoning his flannel. 

Things had…. Escalated a little. 

One of his hands was on the side of your neck, tilting your head up as his lips moved against yours, your body pressed against the wall next to his bedroom, his body caging you in. 

„Do you want to be pretending?“ He asked, his lips kissing down your throat as his other hand came to squeeze one of your tits over your shirt. 

„Cause I haven’t been all day,“ he mumbled and you gasped. 

You were both still fully clothed, having spent the whole day together on the soccer field, pretending to be dating. 

It was pretend when he held your hand while you grabbed food. 

It was pretend when he pulled you on his lap when there wasn’t enough place to sit. 

It was pretend when you went up and kissed him when one of the soccer moms had her hands on his chest. 

Right?

„Joel….“ You hummed letting you head fall against the wall as his hand slipped under your shirt and towards your chest. You finally had his flannel open your fingernails scratching over the shirt he was wearing underneath. 

„I… I don’t want to pretend. I… I want you. I want you all the time,“ you confessed, your eyes closed as he sucked on the soft skin on your neck. 

He looked at you then a small smile on his flushed lips. 

„Good,“ he simply said, before he kissed you again and pulled you towards his bedroom. 

He undressed you slowly, kissing a path from your lips down to your hips before he told you to lay down. 

With your arms spread out on his mattress you looked up at him as he got out of his clothes, biting your lip when you saw his thick cock, already glistening at the tip. 

„Dreamed of this,“ he said as he joined you on the bed, crawling on top of you, kissing you softly as he laid down between your spread legs. 

You nipples hardened as his chest brushed against yours, the only thought in your head being that you wanted him closer. Always closer.

„Yeah?“ You asked with a small smile, your fingers brushing over his back. He nodded. 

„Me too. Dreamed of this for months,“ you confessed and he kissed you again.

„Months?“ He asked kissing your nose.

„Mhh… Think I knew when you fixed my bathroom sink and explained every little step you were doing. Thought back then that I’d listen to everything you’d explain to me as long as you wouldn’t leave,“ you said quietly, a little shy. 

You parted your lips when you felt his cock slip though your folds. 

„When you held Sarah after she fell from her bike last year. I watched you with my daughter in your arms and thought to myself, fuck I’m in love with her,“ he said and you felt a tear slip out of your eyes. 

You tilted your chin up to find his lips in a deep kiss before you brought one hand down and between your bodies, hearing him moan when your fingers wrapped around his stiff cock. 

„Wanna taste you first,“ he mumbled against your lips. 

You shook your head. 

„Plenty of time for that after. Wanna feel you please,“ you pumped his cock and he closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. 

„Fuck. Fuck okay. Condom?“ He asked and you grinned. 

„You got some? I’m on birth control and I trust you,“ you said. He looked at you for a moment before he shook his head. 

„The last time I didn’t use a condom with someone who was on birthcontrol I got Sarah,“ he chuckled before he pushed off of you and reached towards his bedside table, finding a little golden foil package, ripping it open and pulling it over his cock. 

He came back to kneel between your legs, one of his hands wrapped around his cock while he reached for a pillow and with a grin. 

You grinned back, arching your back as he pushed the pillow under you and under your ass before both of his hands pulled you towards him. You crossed your legs behind his ass, pulling him closer as he leaned down, lining his cock up with your pussy. 

„No more pretending,“ he whispered and you shook your head. 

„No more pretending,“ you repeated before you kissed him as he slowly pushed inside of you. 

Your lips parted against his as he slipped inside you, both of you breathing heavily, a quiet moan coming from you as he stretched you. 

You hadn’t been with anyone since your husband died and Joel wasn’t exactly small. 

"You okay?“ He asked, slowing down. 

You just nodded, before you kissed him again, finding yourself enjoying the stretch of his cock as it pushed slowly inside of you. 

„Keep going, feels so fucking good,“ you mumbled against his lips and you felt him smile as he moved, his cock moving inside of you until his whole length was filling you, both of you releasing a loud breath. 

„Should have done this sooner,“ he said as he pulled back and began to slowly fuck into you. You had one hand in his hair, the other on his ass, feeling him as he moved inside of you, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust. 

„Yeah,“ you moaned, closing your eyes. 

„Keep your eyes open,“ he hummed and you did, finding him looking at you. 

„I wanna see you when you cum on my cock,“ he said and your walls clenched, making him smirk.

„You liked that, huh?“ He asked and you nodded slowly. 

„Keep going,“ you whimpered. 

„You know what I think of when I jerk myself off in the shower? I imagine the way you look when you cum. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum so hard you see stars. I wonder how you taste. I wonder if you like it hard or slow. I wonder if you wear these pretty lace panties I saw hanging in your bathroom that one time whenever you’re around me,“ he continued and you whimpered his name. 

„I wonder if you would let me fuck you at the dining table when we have dinner together. Or if you’d suck me off in the garage when we have a couple minutes to ourselves. Or on the couch after we watched a movie. I wonder if I can make you scream my name so everyone knows that you’re mine,“ he said before he kissed you and changed the angle of how he was fucking you, his cock hitting a spot inside of you that had you shaking. 

„I’m gonna take you to the lake house this weekend so I can have you screaming as loudly as you want to,“ he said and you nodded biting your lip to keep quiet, still mindful of the child sleeping down the hall. 

„Cum for me baby, let me feel you,“ he said as he crashed his lips down on yours and you shattered, coming harder than you had ever before, your legs shaking as he kept pumping his cock into you in quick deep thrusts. 

„Fuuuuuck,“ you cried quietly against his lips, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. 

„Beautiful,“ he hummed before his hips stuttered his cock pulsing inside of you as he slowly continued to fuck into you, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he orgasmed. 

Both sweaty and out of breath you just looked at each other before he kissed you and slowly rolled you to the side, pulling you against his chest, his cock softening and still resting inside of you. 

Kissing his chest you nuzzled against him, feeling his arms tighten around your body. 

„Best fake date ever,“ you grinned and you felt him chuckle, before he kissed your head just as you drifted off to sleep. 

[rodeorun]

love in the dark.

yandere pretty boyfriend x fem!reader.

cw: drugging, black-mail, non-con blowjob, degradation. Featuring @meo-eiru 's OC, Elias ❤️

MDNI.

“You better work,” Elias threatened the baby pink candle he was holding between pretty, manicured fingers.

One might even compare it to the young man himself. Long and more thin than thick, the pink wax at the tip molded into a heart shape, white wick sticking through the middle. Elias always had love on the brain, at least when it came to you. Pity he didn't have a fine white wick of logic to split his head in two, or rather, his heart. But, when you love the way he did, weren't those two practically the same thing?

He doesn't know how many hours he spent on the dark web to find this, some sort of ‘love candle.’ Whatever that bullshit meant. The description the seller left behind was short and to the point.

‘Ignite this candle in the presence of your desired person and watch them fall in love with you.’

Even Elias in all his lovesickness found it hard to believe, but it was that sickness itself that led him to purchasing the item. He hadn't gotten a gig lately so he prayed for the payment to go through, giving himself a headache for purchasing a mere candle that was six hundred and fifty dollars. God, the things he would do for you (or to you, but that's a completely different matter.)

You, the object of his affections. His sweet, sweet, sweet best friend who has saved him more times than he could count. You were entirely too good for him and he knew it.

A special knock on his door alerted him to your presence, and he knew it was you because you two had created that very knock in sophomore year of university. Long after he changed his name, you still had the heart to played with him like a child. Where others laughed at his girlish tears and overgrown sobs, you healed his inner child with every hug, every whisper, every time you'd look into his eyes and tell him, ‘it's okay, Elias. I'm here for you.’

And you always were.

No matter how bad his tantrums got, you never got sick of him. You were the only one who stayed. You practically conditioned him. How could he ever want anyone else after tasting a drop of your sweetness?

“Hi, darling!” Elias opened the door and pulled you in for a hug, kicking the door shut behind you. “Someone's mighty dressed up for a movie night in, hehe. Oooh, is this wine? Gimme gimmie!”

Taking the bag from your hands, Elias turned to put it on the table, laying a sweaty palm against his flushed cheek. Heaven, he couldn't do this much longer! Just a hug from you and a whiff of that perfume had him hardening in his yoga pants. He stayed faced away from you as he rocked side to side, subtly rubbing himself against the bottle you brought just for him. All for him.

“So, I was thinking we could start with a rom-com and then maybe a western, for variety, and after that there's a three hour long horror movie I found that-”

“Sorry, Elias.”

Glittering eyelids opened themselves.

“See, my boyfriend injured his arm in a game yesterday, so I need to go help cook for him,” you explained. Your sorry eyes seared into his back.

Ah, yes. That boyfriend of yours. Taller than Elias, bigger than Elias, handsome enough to be called a heartthrob and an athlete by profession. A real winner, that boyfriend of yours!

Elias wanted to spit on his corpse.

“Oh, your boyfriend!” He clasped his hands together and turned to face you. “The one who forgot to pick you up at the mall last week because he slept through his alarm, right? I remember him.” Elias fiddled with one of the bottles of wine now, snarling. So much for a ‘gift,’ you were just trying to buy his forgiveness.

“Yes, Eli, that boyfriend,” you chuckled. “But I forgave him for that, you know? Nobody's perfect.”

The illusion of bliss he was swept up in from hearing that sweet nickname quickly shattered.

‘Nobody's perfect.’ Elias knew that better than anyone else. Afterall, he was the last thing but, and yet you still treated him so preciously.

So, why? Why was it the very same thing he fell in love with you for, you were flaunting to just anyone? Don't you know that love isn't free? Especially not yours! How many bottles of hair dye, micro-needling appointments, collagen fillers, and waxing appointments did he go to for your love? By God he knows his deadname didn't deserve you, but didn't Elias at least earn a little bit of your attention?

How dare you, honestly. How dare you show someone else the kindness you won him over with? How dare you waltz in here just to stand him up for another man! How dare you fucking-

“Eli?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

You looked upon him tentatively, a testament to what a ticking time bomb he is. “Oh, alright, I forgive you.” He waved you off playfully and walked over to hold both of your hands in his. “But next time, I'll tie you up and keep you here forever, munchkin~”

Your laugh mingled with his. As if you thought he was joking.

“Ah, but, darling! At least have a drink with me before you go. It would be lonely to pop open a bottle by myself, hm?”

A single drink.

That's what you and Elias agreed on. One glass and you'd be on your way to that wretch. You didn't drive to get here and assured Elias that your boyfriend would drive you back home. As if.

“Oh, before we cheers,” Elias put his glass down and went to rummage for a box of matches, shaking his hips this way and that while humming in his search.

“Someone's in a good mood,” you grinned, watching him groove to imaginary music.

“Yes, with you around I always am,” he teased and returned to the table. He put the candle in the stand and lit it.

It was only a little unsettling that he watched you instead of the matches while he did so.

“That's a really cute candle, Elias. Where'd you get it?” you asked him as he sat down across from you, drink in hand.

“Oh, this old thing? It's just something I had laying around- Oh my god!”

Elias flinched as the candle suddenly exploded, letting out a small puff of wind that blew his hair back and left behind a plume of pink smog.

“Darling?! Are you- ack! You okay?” Elias wafted the air between hacking coughs until he could see your face again.

You looked shocked, as one would when a candle explodes in their face, but then you started laughing. Small titters that rang like a bell until it turned into gasps that made you grab your stomach.

“You're, hahahaha, so, so silly, Eli! Haha, where do you get these things?!”

Oh, honey. He couldn't stop loving you even if he tried.

“Oh, stop that, you! How was I supposed to know it would do that,” Elias played along, ears still tinged pink at his little blunder. You two looked at each other and then fell into joined laughter.

This light, airy feeling was a drug to him. No matter how boring he was, how flat his personality, you could always find something more in him. Something to talk about, to laugh about, to entertain him with. Something he couldn't find by himself.

It's like the universe sent you to him as if to say, ‘hey! This is the person who will make life worth living! The one who will take that mind numbing emptiness away!’

And who was he to deny the wishes of the universe?

“Worthless piece of junk,” Elias muttered when things settled down. The candle really was a sham then. “At least it smells nice,” he lit the candle again and waved the match to out it. “Anyways, I got a manicure today and the lady was way too rough with my cuticles. She should quit if that's the service she's going to give.”

He brought his nails up, inspecting the blood red polish.

He was met with silence.

“Darling?”

Your head was down, lip trapped between your teeth.

“R-Right. Well, it's pretty,” you shot him a sad kind of smile. “It's just, well, no. Hm, uh, no…I forgot, I guess?” Elias watched you scramble around until small tears dripped from your eyes. “I guess I just forgot that you see other women every day.”

His heart froze in his chest.

“And, I, I know she was just doing her job, but holding your hand while she did your nails- she did hold your hand, right? That's a little…”

You trailed off and wiped your tears, willing yourself to gather such thoughts while Elias looked on in shock.

His eyes flicked to the candle, to you, the candle, you. Always you.

“She did,” he said simply, cautiously, “hold my hand. Yes, she did.” Your face cumbled, making Elias shoot up. “But I hated it! I wished it was you! I want you to be the one holding my hand!”

“Really?” Those big, wet eyes pleaded with him. “Because, I get jealous, you know.”

Something below his belt started stirring.

“Is that so?” He hummed and pulled his chair over next to you, thumbing the tears under your eyes like you had done for him so many times before.

The light of the candle reflected in your eyes and when Elias glanced over, it had melted remarkably quickly. The leftover wax dripped onto the table but he couldn't care less.

First things first, he needed to make sure what he hypothesized was real. That this wasn't a ploy.

“You know, dear, I was very hurt when you started going out with that bastard. You hurt me, a lot. How do you think I felt?” He cooed like you were a child, soft and gentle in his palm.

“I'm so sorry, Eli. I'll break up with him, okay? I only want you! I'm really- mmph!”

Not the romantic first kiss he was dreaming of, but perfect nonetheless.

All this groveling and begging, over little ol’ him? It was too cute. He could just eat you up! But before that, it seems Elias was going to be devoured first.

“Darling? Ngh!” You were tangling your tongue with his, sucking his lips, his cheeks, his tongue, leaving little nibbles on his blushing skin. “Hold on, I need to-”

“Need to what, Eli? I need you right now,” you swallowed, “I feel like my body is on fire.”

Oh, god, the candle really did work. You were squirming on your chair, rubbing your legs together and giving him the absolute cutest puppy eyed stare. You wanted him. You wanted him.

“Yeah?” Elias said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with you, “well I think I need an apology for you cheating on me first.”

He stood up and pulled his oversized sweater up, letting you peek at the bulge growing underneath tight grey cotton.

“Oh, Eli! It's so pretty!” You weren't shy about rubbing him over his pants. “All of you is so, so pretty, baby. Can I…suck you?”

“Darling, I'm yours!” He said eagerly, the sudden onslaught of praise leaving him dizzy. “Anything you want to do, I'm yours!”

By the time you peeled down his pants and had his leaking dick positioned at your mouth, he was ready to burst. He was entirely ready to finally get his reward, but you hesitated.

“Wait, Eli. I think we should wait, um…my boyfriend. I should break up with him first.”

That goddamn candle should have come with a special feature to make you forget anyone but him all together.

Elias probably looked terrifying right now, fine features underlit by the glow of the candle, staring down at you harshly. For once, he didn't find your babbling cute. Not when every other word was your boyfriend's name. So, Elias kindly shut you up.

“There we go~” Elias cooed, thrusting his hips a little. “Ah, ah, darling. Don't run from it,” he giggled, “or I'll shove it down your fucking throat~”

You were choking on his cock, unable to pull away with how he had his fingers locked behind your head. More than you moving, it was Elias who was pumping himself in and out of your mouth, not stopping until his balls slapped against your chin every time.

“What a good little thing you are, angel. I love you so much! Hey, do you love me too? I asked if you loved me too!”

Even under the effects of the candle, you looked scared. Elias was frantic now, not only his balls hitting your chin, but his toned abdomen smashing into your face as he fucked your entire head roughly. “Dirty fucking bitch! I trusted you! I love you and you left me for dead to go date that idiot! Do you know how much that hurt me?! How much I need you?! You were supposed to me mine, all mine, just like I'm yours! You dirty, dirty f-fucking whore!” Elias let out a wet sob, spilling down your throat with his eyes screwed shut.

Heavy pants left his mouth as he stumbled back to sit on his chair, chest heaving up and down. Even through your coughing, you couldn't help but worry about him.

“Eli? A-Are you okay?”

What a wreck your voice was, no doubt you'd be feeling him in your throat for days.

“It's not all out.”

“Huh? I don't understand-”

“Lift your shirt up.” He wasn't asking.

The smooth expanse of your chest was revealed and Elias used it as extra motivation to get the last few drops of cum out, fisting his tip roughly to pull out those last thick strings. It pearled on your skin beautifully and you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out, cleaning him off properly with soft sucks that made him tremble.

“Good girl,” he sighed and eventually sat. It was like the devil was released from him. He was just Elias again, your Eli. “That was my first blowjob, you know,” he giggled cutely, like you two were mischievous kids sharing secrets in a treehouse.

Elias sighed and leaned in to hug you after lifting his pants back over his soft length. “Oh, my baby. I can't believe this worked. Had I known, I wouldn't have done this sooner. I can't believe you're finally mine,” he mumbled into your hair. “I love you, darling. And you love me too, right?”

Silence.

“Darling?”

Elias held you at shoulder length away, not wanting to let go of you completely yet. “Hey, why the tears, darling? Hehe, do you love me that much? Aw, well-”

“I'm sorry, Elias.” Your dark pupils met his.

There was no reflection from the candlelight anymore. In fact, the flame had blown out completely by now, leaving behind a sad little puddle of wax.

Your arms pushed his off as you stood up. “Shit…I- oh god, my boyfriend. What's wrong with me?! I'm sorry, Eli- I mean, Elias, um, I think the wine was a bit too strong for me. I really didn't mean to…”

What the hell was this?! Was this- did your love only last while the candle was lit?!

“What the fuck!” Elias cursed loudly, fingers gripping his silky tresses. The situation was beckoning a meltdown.

“I know, Elias, I'm so sorry, but I don't know what came over me!”

You were scared, he could see it. And he's sure part of that fear was from the ache in your throat, the names he had called you when he was at the peak of bliss. How he carried on when he was so sure you were his completely. Over what, a stupid candle? He was an idiot! He had to do damage control.

“It's…alright, darling. It's okay. Hm,” Elias hummed as he thought, standing up to pace. “It's okay. Your boyfriend is waiting for you after all, run along now. It's getting late.”

“Elias?” You weren't sure what was going on.

“Don't worry, dear,” Elias looked at you with warm eyes. “I can keep a secret. We just got a little overwhelmed, didn't we?”

He was giving you a way out, obviously. But why?

“Right,” you said, unsure.

“That's okay, we all have our moments,” Elias giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you, letting one sneak down to cup your ass. “Some more than others.”

“I don't think we should be-”

“Be what? You already swallowed my load, pumpkin. Let it dribble all down your chin and everything,” he mused, rubbing a finger against your lower lip. “Or did you want to come clean to your boyfriend?”

“No! I really don't know what happened!”

“Then it's a secret,” Elias whispered, pulling you in for a kiss. You were helpless to him, unable to pull away under the looming threat of him snitching on you. His tongue traced your lips before he pulled away.

“I won't tell if you won't, darling.”

Elias sent you off with a few more kisses and a slap on your ass, already hard again and humping you like a dog all the way to the door where you left with tears in your eyes. You were just too cute!

It wasn't much, but it was something. The only excitement Elias could offer you. Now, he had a personality.

He was your secret lover.

“Aha! How wonderful!” Elias twirled around in excitement. What an adventure!

Soon, he'd guilt your sweet soul into breaking up with that idiot and you'd be all his. He already had a foot in the door after all.

Bringing a hand to his lips, he recalled the way yours felt against his. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!

Hmm..

Elias took his phone out and sent you a quick text.

‘I think I left some lipstick on you, darling. Clean that up before you see you know who ;)’

Not even moment later, his phone rang.

“Hey, Elias?”

“Eli,” he corrected.

“Yeah, can you not-”

“Eli.”

“…Eli. Uh, can you not send texts like that, please? Just in case he sees.”

A shiver ran up Elias’ spine at the secrecy of it all. You two were bound by sin.

“Of course, darling. I'll call you tonight then.”

“I'm spending the night with him,” you said nervously. “I can't.”

“Alright then, I'll just text you,” Elias inspected his nails casually.

“But-! Ugh, fine. I'll call you later.”

“Perfect. We'll talk soon then. Make sure your camera is on, I'm still throbbing over here,” he giggled.

“I have to go now,” you whispered.

“I love you, darling.”

“Yes, he's coming so-”

“I said I love you!”

“…I love you too, Eli. Bye.”

Elias waited for you to hang up with a smile. You were already cracking under the pressure of your unwanted affair. Sure it would hurt you now, but if this didn't last long then it would be him hurting later. Surely, you wouldn't be able to deal with that, not your kind heart. After all, his beauty is something that shouldn't be marred, you said so yourself.

It was only a matter of time now.

a/n: I actually finished this over a week ago but the Elias lore kept pouring in and I was scrambling to edit to make this as canon as possible but I gave up sooooo, yeah 😃 just imagine this as eli if he actually acted on half the shit he wants to do ig lmfaooo

Also can't believe I wrote unwilling reader because Elias is literally my baby muffin snuggly pie googlie bear and i love him, but i love men suffering more ig 💗

Divider: /animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Please do not ask for part 2. Thank you!

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[f1fantasys]

Balenciaga, Nike,and 1 with lando please and thanks youuu♥︎♥︎

BIRTHDAY BOYYYYY FIC

NB - This has nothing to do with Lando's birthday, it's just the name.

Here we go! First fic from the prompt list! Sorry for the delay! This turned out a little longer than expected, and i think i may have gone off track towards the end buuuut hope you all enjoy!

Balenciaga - swallowing his cum Nike - caught by his parents #1 - rough and filthy

3.7K words

During the summer break, at least a week was always spent with Lando's parents on their yacht - it had been a given for the last 3 years you'd been dating. And you absolutely loved it; you loved them like your own so it was always something you looked forward to.

Lando has ended the European leg of the races on a high, so everyones mood was ecstatic to say the least.

His? haha

He was ecstatic, sure, but he was also fucking horny for you every second of every day you'd been on the yacht.

On day 1, Lando had woken you up with his face between your legs, pulling and sucking at your clit as his fingers slid through your slick folds before he frantically thrust them in and out of you, making you cum twice within a matter of seconds. The night ended with him banging you hard against your cabin door, hand snaked round your throat as he pounded into you relentlessly.

You'd both been at it every day since, and to say you were sore would be an understatement, but all he had to do was give you a single look, or touch, and your body was putty in his hands, begging him for more until you were both shaking in each others arms.

Today was day 4, a lazy day for everyone just lounging around and working on a good tan.

By the time dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted from being out in the sun all day, and had retreated to their rooms.

Lando and you decided to just chill out on the decks, open another bottle of wine and spend some time together.

It started off innocently, it really did, until Lando stripped down into nothing but his boxers, saying something about needling to cool down in the pool.

Your eyes shamelessly eyed his body up and down as he took the few steps to get into the water, involuntarily squeezing your thighs together as he let his arms rest on the side, showing off his taunt arm muscles and flexing his back ones.

His own eyes stayed trained on yours, knowing very well he was leading you on and would get what he wanted sooner rather than later.

But you kept your ground, trying to focus on talking about something or the other, trying to keep yourself distracted.

He could see you fidgeting, your legs bouncing up and down. Hell, he was fucking hard as rock by just watching you do practically nothing.

''Come here, y/n'' he said, a warning edge to his tone.

You gave him a look, not saying anything, until he got out of the water, shred his boxers on the walk to you, and pulled you up, before walking hand and hand back to the water.

All you could keep your eyes on was his thick girth, lose and springing up and down, hard.

''Lan-'' you started, though he cut you off by placing a finger on your lips.

The cool water was a relief to your core, but Lando quickly manhandled you to sit up on the edge, taking his place between your legs.

You wrapped your legs around his torso as he untied your bikini strings, letting the top fall off to show off your perky boobs and pink nipples that had stiffened due to the the old as well.

Lando licked his lips as he reached forward and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Gently suckling on it and circling his tongue around it as his hand harshly tugged and pinched on your right nipple.

Your hands found his hair and pulled on his curls, breathless moans leaving your mouth as you bit down on your bottom lip, though the quietness went out the window when Lando's one hand pushed your bikini bottoms to the side and immediately plunged two fingers through your core.

''Lando, fuck!'' you hissed, jumping at his actions as you thought he was taking his sweet time with you.

He was not.

Lando kept his eyes trained on yours as he let your nipples go and spread your legs further, giving himself enough room to fit his head between you, before he devoured your cunt with his tongue, while thrusting his fingers roughly.

A series of swear words left your mouth as you leaned back and tried to give him better access, and within minutes your body was trembling, shaking violently as you came all over his mouth.

Lando made sure to swallow everything up before he helped you sit up again, pulling you down for a heated kiss that quickly had him sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned into him.

''Lan'' you panted, ''need-'' ''need to taste you'' you said, between kisses, sounding more desperate than you have in the past few days.

''Yeah?'' he asked, mischievous glint in his eyes when he pulled back.

''Uh huh'' you said, sliding yourself back into the water and instructing him to now sit at the edge.

He complied without fuss, because he was just as desperate to feel your lips around him.

You pumped his dick a few times, concentrating on stroking the thick vein at the side which had Lando squirming above you.

You teased him now as you pulled back completely and squeezed your one boob in your hand while the other continued to pump him, licking your lips as you saw a bead of pre cum already leaking through his slit at the top.

''Y/n, please'' he begged, and just because you were in the mood and wanted to hear him beg some more, you pulled your boobs right up to your mouth and circled your tongue around your nipple.

Lando's eyes darkened as he gawked at your actions, his dick twitching in your hands as he watched you, mouth open and in awe at the sight of you.

''Fucking hell, baby, please'' he said, already gathering your hair out of your face into a makeshift ponytail.

How could you say no to him when he asked you like that?

So you finally gave Lando what he wanted - you deep throated him straight away, gagging when hie tip brushed against the back of your throat as you bobbed your head up and down his long shaft.

You played with his balls and pumped the part of him that you couldn't fit into your mouth, tears already stinging the corners of your eyes as Lando's hold on your hair tightened, when finally he just cupped your face and held it still, fucking his dick in and out of your mouth.

''That's it, yeah, takes me to well baby, fuck'' he mumbled between breaths as you could tell he was already close with the way his cock was pulsating.

You pulled back for a second, ''cum for me Lan, let me taste you, yeah?'' you cooed before resuming your activities, and with one harsh suck later, Lando was emptying his load down the back of your throat as he let out harsh grunts and moans.

His taste was salty and warm, just the way you loved. ''So delicious Lan'' you smiled up at him, cheeks flushed and eagerly ready for more.

''Come here'' he said quickly, getting you up and pulling you out the water. Lando scooped your naked body (and his) up and rushed over to the bar.

You hissed when he placed you down on the cool counter top, body still shivering from being in the cold water.

''Gonna warm you up yeah?''

''Fuck Lando, please, need to feel you'' you said impatiently.

Lando spread your legs with his knee as his hand gave his already hard cock a few strokes, sliding his tip through your folds to gather some slick.

Eventually, he settled at your hole, pushing in with one hard thrust.

You held your breath, fingers digging into his biceps at the intrusion, while his mouth found yours and gave you a sloppy kiss.

Then he started moving, pulling out of you completely before pushing all the way in, setting a quick pace as if you were short of time, but really you just couldn't get enough of each other.

''So tight, as if i haven't fucked you enough these days'' he said, smirking at you. He knew you'd have an answer to that, so he quickly brought his hand up to your throat, giving you a few gentle squeezes as he continued to fuck in and out of you.

''Gonna come Lan'' you cooed as you felt your orgasm approaching hard and fast, and withing seconds your body was shuddering in Lando's arms, body feeling like jelly so he had to hold you up now.

''Fucking love you'' he mumbled, more to himself when he looked down to the place you were joined, your thick cum coating his cock was enough to edge him closer to his own orgasm.

You leaned forward and gave his nipples a few kitten licks, sweat dripping down his whole body. He hissed when you bit down on his left one, sending you a warning. Only your name though. ''Y/n''

Just as Lando picked up the pace even more, now chasing his high, you heard a door open, though your minds were too fucked out to even respond.

Until you heard a gasp, and Lando's mum's voice.

''Oh''

You both froze, your movements coming to a halt as you looked each other with wide eyes, Lando's dick stopping halfway on its way into your cunt. His arms snaked their way around your body to rest against your ass in an attempt to cover it.

He looked over his shoulder to see Cisca standing there with her own pair of wide eyes, mouth agape. You took this opportunity to bury your head in his chest, trying to control your breathing as his as well was going at 1000 miles per hour.

All of you too embarrassed to respond, but your mind was screaming at Cisca to walk way without saying another word.

That thought was short lived though, as suddenly the door opened and closed again and now it was Adam's voice that filled your ears.

''Cis, what are you-'' he cut himself off at the scene in front of him.

''Oh'' was all he said after.

It was all probably about 30 seconds, though it felt like 5 hours, and you gave Lando warning eyes, begging him to say something to get his parents out of here and back inside. Your body was starting to squirm at the feeling of Lando's dick softening inside of you, the moment fleeting away with each second.

Finally, he coughed, and at the same time Adam cleared his throat.

''We''ll leave you to it'' he mumbled quickly before pulling Cisca back inside behind him.

As soon as the door shut you both let out a series of swear words, your bodies finally relaxing even though you didn't know how you'd ever face his parents again.

Lando looked down and gently peeled himself out of you. He cupped your face in his hands. ''Sorry'' he said, looking shy and embarrassed at what had just happened.

'''Don't be. Serves us right for trying to fuck in a place where anyone from the family could have walked in'' you said, leaning forward to peck his nose scar.

He smiled. ''Make it up to you later?'' he asked.

''You better!'' you squealed as he helped you off the counter and threw you a towel to cover up.

Time jump

For the last few days of summer break, you and Lando had opted to spend them quietly at home before the roar of the season began again.

It was a lazy day today, Lando was streaming with Max while you were preparing dinner.

As you were waiting for the oven to be done, your mind drifted the last few weeks. It was easily the best summer break anyone could dream of - sun, sea, sand and sex, lots of sex.

You could feel yourself blushing just thinking of all the nasty you did during the holiday, and suddenly, as if you hadn't had enough, you felt your core dripping with want.

Without thinking, you switched off the oven and made a beeline for the room Lando was in, stripping and leaving a trail of clothes all the way from the kitchen.

You knew his set up, so you knew all the ways to avoid the camera, though when you opened the door and Lando looked up from his screen he had to do a literal double take, his eyes wide and mouth agape, licking his lips as you made your way into the room.

Max's voice through his headphones reminded Lando where he was and what he was doing again as he tried to get back into the stream though he was failing miserably.

''Bro what the fuck what's wrong with you?'' you heard Max ask as you crawled under the desk and sat on your knees, watching Lando through hooded eyes.

He still had his own eyes on you, one hand already snaked down into his shorts at the sight of your naked body leaning down in front of him.

''Lando!'' Max yelled.

''I, fuck'' he jolted in his seat. ''Nothing, just..nothing'' he said, trying to ignore you and get back to talking to the chat.

You giggled to yourself and gently leaned up to palm his thick girth through his shorts before pulling at the them to tell him to remove them.

He kept his eyes in the screen, not even listening to what Max was saying as he subtlety lifted himself just enough to let you slide his shorts and boxers down, springing his achingly hard dick free.

You breath couldn't help but hitch at the sight of it standing tall, red and angry, with precum already sliding down the sides.

Quickly, you pumped him a few times, your thumb swiping his tip to spread the precum. You watched how Lando held his breath, before sighing and mumbled a fuck it, before he turned his camera off, though left the mic on.

Finally he was free to look down at you, biting his lower lip and mouthing a ''dirty'' down to you as you leaned forward and have his slit a few kitten licks before letting your tongue run over the thick vein at the side.

Lando's hands found your head and roughly pulled your forward, giving you no option but to take his load into your mouth, hard and deep.

His hold on your head tightened as you watched him lean back in his chair and let out a series of silent moans.

You pumped whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth as one hand fondled with his balls, pulling and tugging at them harshly when you started gagging around Lando, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

You had spit running down your chin and dropping onto you thighs as you clenched them together, your core begging for some attention of its own.

Lando tried his best to concentrate on what ever was going on with his stream, but everytime your tongue circle his tip his mind short circuited and he had to ground himself to make sure he wouldn't moan into the mic.

You could feel his dick start to twitch uncontrollably in your mouth, knowing he was close, and within a few seconds with no warning, Lando let his cum splutter down your throat as he clenched his fists on his chair handles, biting his bottom lip agonizingly hard to keep quiet, letting out a few staggered breaths.

Your own mind forgot where you were for a second, and as soon as you got a taste of him, you moaned a little too loudly, halting your movements for a split second.

You looked up at Lando and saw him mouth ''swallow it'' to you, to which you gladly obliged because he was delicious.

Max of course, caught up to what was happening. He indirectly threw teases at Lando which luckily the chat hopefully wouldn't catch on to.

As you sucked Lando dry, you pulled back and took a few breaths.

You needed more.

Your cunt was begging you for something, anything.

You looked up at Lando again, cheeks flushed, and sent him a silent ''please'' You watched as his eyes turned shades darker.

Just one look at you like that on your knees, and he was putty in your hands.

He ended the stream with no goodbyes, no explanation, nothing.

He roughly pulled you out from under the table and carried you to the bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

''You asked for it baby'' he harshly said, hovering above you as you peeled his tshirt off.

Finally, he lowered down and attacked your lips with his own. Clashes of teeth and tongue, biting and nipping as you fought each other, spit messing your chins already.

You let your hands wander his toned body - following the outlines of his taunt muscles, eventually settling at his precious hair, pulling at it to edge him on.

Lando lowered his lips to your neck, finding your sweet spots which had you biting your own lips in anticipation of what was to come.

He hen went to your boobs, taking his sweet time tugging and suckling on your nipples, while his eyes stayed trained on yours.

Your cunt, for one, was getting impatient, clenching around air, begging for something.

''Please Lando'' you said, innocently as you could so he'd give in.

''Patience baby. Gonna ruin you tonight''

After spending a ridiculous amount of time on your boobs, Lando finally traveled further south, and thank god he didn't waste time in getting down and dirty.

He devoured your pussy that had been dripping, for him.

''So wet y/n. Wet for me, yeah?'' he asked.

You quickly nodded, wanting to boost his ego before you fucking exploded.

''All for you Lan'' you panted as he slid his tongue through your folds multiple times before starting to thrust into your hole as he held your legs apart strongly.

Your hands returned to his hair, pulling at it roughly as you very quickly felt the warmth start to build up in your stomach.

''M close'' you cooed, taking a boob into your hand and squeezing it a few times.

Lando had let his fingers find your clit, and this threw you over the edge, shaking and shuddering underneath him as you came all over his face, while you let obscene noises and moans leave your mouth, praising him for how good his fucking tongue is.

He licked up all your cum before reaching up and letting some drip straight from his mouth down into your yours - his own series of ''fucks'' leaving his mouth at the sight of you tasting yourself.

But as much as you loved when he ate you out, you loved his dick more.

So you reached down and took his thick girth into your hands, pumping it a few times before bringing it to your entrance and guiding it through you.

You gasped at the intrusion, eyes locked on Lando's as he bottomed out in you, before he started moving, thrusting out fully before slamming back into you roughly, fucking into you roughly.

''Fuck. So tight baby'' he mumbled as he leaned down to kiss you again.

''Lan please, harder. Fuck me harder, please'' you begged, needing more and more of him and your nails dug deep into the muscles of his back, surely leaving bruises.

''If i fuck you any harder I'm gonna break you'' he said breathlessly.

''Then break me'' you pressed, taking him by surprise.

He smirked, ''and this is why i fucking love you so much'' he whispered before picking up his pace even more, literally ramming his body into yours.

You shut you eyes and before you knew it your orgasm had taken over your body, cum exploding out of you as you swear you could see stars, all the while Lando's pace didn't slow one bit.

Suddenly though, he pulled out of you.

You looked down at him, confused, irritated that he'd stopped. But you mind quickly phased out as he bought his mouth to your cunt and collected as much of your cum as he could on his tongue, leaning up to engulf you in a dirty, filthy kiss. Both your cheeks and chins' were sticky and slimy but you couldn't care one bit because that was hot.

Lando manhandled your body to flip you over onto all fours, before he thrust himself through your cunt and resumed a rapid pace again, while his one hand found your throat and the other pinched your nipples.

''Lan, fuck, close. Gonna cum'' you mumbled as you felt him him you G-spot over and over and over and then your mind blanked.

You couldn't think straight. All you knew was there was liquid flying out of you left right and center, you could feel Lando's tongue, and all you ears could hear was Lando praising you for ''being the sexiest thing to grace this earth, how he's gonna make you squirt every day for the rest of your lives because fuck, there was nothing hotter than that''

Wait. What? Did he just say squirt?

Then your brain caught up, and your eyes flew open.

Lando was still ramming into you, so you looked back at him with the biggest look of embarrassment because wdym you squirted?

His whole face was wet with slick and sweat. He looked hot.

You tried to talk, but you couldn't, your body and mind a mixture of a lot of things. And with the way Lando was chasing his high now, you figured you'd let him finish before attempting to comprehend what was happening.

''I'm gonna cum y/n'' he warned. ''One day fuck a baby into this pretty cunt of your's'''he whispered, more to himself.

You clenched your walls around his throbbing dick, yet another orgasm coming over you, and within seconds he was spasmming and letting his load go deep within you, his own pornographic moans and grunts leaving his mouth.

Finally, you both fell forward, you on the bed and he on top of you, breathless and sticky, trying to calm your shaking bodies.

You could feel Lando softening inside you, and you both hissed when he slid out, your cunt extremely sensitive.

He gave you a sheepish smile before pulling you to lay on top of him.

''Please interrupt my stream more often if this is what I'll get. Squirming? Fucking sexiest shit you've ever done baby''

[nonranghaes]

at least once a week, you and seungcheol didn't see each other for most of the day. neither of you spent the majority of the work week with each other as it was, but you'd been up front with him when the two of you started getting serious: you loved him, but you needed one day to just hang out with friends. being burned in the past before made you a little too acutely aware of when you were starting to pull away, and you didn't want any of your friends (single or not) to feel that same burn of feeling abandoned. so thus began your weekly day-away-from-each-other. he'd go out with his friends for a while, you'd go out with yours, and you'd reconnect at the end of the night.

you're sitting between his legs in the tub, washing your hair as you fill him in on all the drama he'd get to hear sooner or later. the suds from your shampoo drip down the back of your neck, down the sides of your face. "it's just a mess, y'know? i kinda hate that she's come down to an ultimatum, but i think it's because she knows the answer."

"ultimatums are rough," he mumbles. when you glance back, his head is resting against the edge of the tub, his eyes shut. "do you think she'll break up with him?"

"oh, definitely." you shift, the water rippling around you, and turn to face him. "she's younger than us. we tried to talk her out of it and told her she should just end things, but she said it was a last-ditch effort to see if he'd get his shit together." with a long sigh, you leaned forward, resting your head on his chest. "god, i'm glad i'm done with that shit."

he chuckles, already wrapping an arm around you. "mm... dating is hard. sometimes i hear my friends talk about their troubles, and i'm just glad we're past the dramatic part."

you scoff. "you say that like we fight."

"we fight!" he huffs. "we're both too stubborn not to."

maybe that was true, just a little bit. but you were good at handling it now: one of you always walked away so the two of you could cool off. and when you were ready, you'd talk it out. sometimes that was ten, thirty minutes, other times it was hours later. but your fights never lasted longer than a day, not really. let's not go to bed mad at each other, okay? was what seungcheol said to you once. the two of you have lived by that since. sometimes you think you love his maturity more than anything, even if he does pout at you over the silliest thing. he's your silly, sweet, intelligent man.

you just lean in and kiss him now, drawing back after a few seconds. he smiles a little, eyes twinkling as he watches you.

"what was that for?"

"i love you," you say, voice a little softer. "that's all."

seungcheol leans in, kissing you tenderly, smiling hard enough that you can see his dimples when he pulls away. "i love you, too."

[cherryredcheol]

first night

tldr: its a special night. or at least, mingyu thinks so. a/n: i am SOFT for mingyu these days. if you need me i'll be nesting.

“you brush your teeth yet?” you called out, pressing the last of your skincare into your face. 

mingyu’s giggle was all the reply you needed. 

“get in here right now, kim mingyu! or i won’t kiss you goodnight.” 

this time his giggle was accompanied by the quick, slapping sounds of his feet on the hardwood. you should probably get a rug for the room. one more thing to grab at ikea tomorrow… mingyu suddenly appeared in the mirror in front of you, smiling wide. 

“i was waiting for you, angel. wanted to do it together.” he explained, wrapping his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

you rolled your eyes, but grinned despite yourself. “we don’t have to do everything together now that we live together, you know.”

“i know” he whined pressing soft kisses on the tender skin behind your ear. “but its our first night together in our home. we should do this together,” he straightened behind you, chest puffing out, obviously proud of his reasoning. 

you couldn’t help but tease him, “its not even our first night together, gyu. we’ve spent more nights together than apart at this point.” 

he was not going to be defeated, standing his ground he met your eyes in the mirror, smiling at you softly, “we’re never going to have another first night living together, angel. create a core memory with me?”

if pupils could be heart-shaped, yours would’ve been. you turned around, facing him, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

he looked down at you, so smug, “thought you wouldn’t kiss me if i didn’t brush my teeth?” 

your smile flattened, “you ruined the core memory.” 

[moonchild9350]

Firsts

Summary: Hyunjin reminisces on all of your 'firsts' together as a couple.

Pairing: nonidol!Hyunjin x fab!reader

Genre: established relationship au, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: time jumps, kissing, hand job, nipple play, clit play, unprotected sex (don’t), mention of birth control, creampie, Hyunjin is in love lol

Notes: just wanted to write another fic from Hyunjin's pov! this was supposed to be short but here we are lol

If you enjoyed please consider a comment, reblog, or like as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Firsts are scary. At least that is what Hyunjin thought wholeheartedly, that is until he met you. You with your cheery demeanor, your kind heart and lust for life. He loves your beauty, your body, your everything, but he also loves who you are on the inside.

Over the last year you’ve both shared many firsts with each other, each time they occur giving him butterflies deep within as if it’s the first time you’ve met.

— —

Hyunjin was nervous for your first date, the jitters getting the best of him as he checked his hair in the mirror for the millionth time. His heart was pounding within his chest, so hard he thought it was going to burst.

He picked out flowers for you earlier in the day, unsure of what you’d like. Maybe the roses? But also what about the carnations? He spent so long staring at the two options that the clerk came by to make sure he was okay asking if he needed any help.

In the end he chose the roses, sticking to a safe choice. He carefully cared for them home, making sure not to crush the delicate petals, their floral scent traveling to his nose causing him to smile. He kept them in water until it was time to pick you up, the stems dripping all over the floor and ultimately his pants staining them.

Hyunjin felt embarrassed at the stain, convinced you would slam the door in his face, tsking that he was a mess. However, you did the exact opposite, your squeal of delight reaching his ears, which turned a bright red in response. You whisked the flowers from his hands, setting them in a vase of water before following him outside.

He took you to dinner, at a cute little restaurant in town that you had been gushing about. He found it easy to chat with you, the conversation flowing nonstop. He made sure to listen to all of your likes and dislikes, wanting to learn more about you which was easy to do since it was you.

You both enjoyed your meal, staying for the cheesecake and that extra glass of wine, your hearts wildly beating at the prospect of other dates to come.

But all good things must come to an end, the night wrapping up way too soon. Hyunjin walked you back to your apartment in the warm night air, the city slowing down as people hurried home. He’d hope to see you again as he wanted to shower you with affection and treat you the way you deserve.

Hyunjin looked forward to more firsts with you, the concept not as scary as it seemed before

Not long after your first date, he took you to movie , as you had a love for films just like him. It was an older film, repurposed for the modern theater, one you both enjoyed and discussed many times over a late night chat.

The theater in town was old, the building itself a time capsule of when it was built in the early beginnings of the sleepy town.

You both sat in the red chairs, looking at each other as you blushed and giggled, each of you a nervous wreck. Hyunjin didn’t know what to do, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable, so he quickly looked away and focused on the screen, watching the ads that were playing.

Soon, the lights dimmed and the film began. He couldn’t stop looking at you from the corner of his eye, trying to catch a glimpse of you as you focused straight ahead. His heart was beating, his thigh bouncing up and down as he tried to pay attention to the film.

If he thought he was nervous then nothing could have prepared him for how nervous he would be watching you creep your hand to rest on the armrest separating you two.

Your hand rested there delicately, your perfectly manicured nails on display. His palms were clammy, as beads of sweat prickled at his forehead. He tried to subtly wipe his hands off on his pants, hoping you wouldn’t see.

Suddenly, you looked his way, his head turning to meet your eyes. You gave him a smile, butterflies fluttering in his chest at your beauty. He looked at your hand, now facing palm up and back to your eyes. You gave him another reassuring smile before wiggling your fingers teasingly.

Before he could overthink his actions, he quickly reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before resting his palm on top of yours. You giggled quietly before lacing your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze once settled.

Hyunjin was over the moon, a smile gracing his face as he turned to face the screen again. There was incessant pounding of his heart in his chest, as he held your hand in his, not believing that this was happening.

He found he couldn’t focus on the film, his thoughts on how your tiny hand fit in his perfectly, almost like two puzzle pieces finding their home together. He thought of how he could feel your pulse, the thump thump radiating off his skin. If he could feel your heart beat, could you feel his and how it ached for you?

His mind was a flurry of thoughts as he barely paid attention to the film, not even noticing it was over until the very end when you sweetly said his name, the sound sweet like honey to his ears.

He blushed, feeling embarrassed at his mishap.

“Ready then?” He asked you, squeezing your hand in his.

“Mmhmm I am,” you said, your eyes locked on him.

Hyunjin chatted with you about the film as you both walked down the sidewalk, your chatter warming his heart, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. The street lamps set a yellow glow, illuminating the way as you passed others on their way to a destination only they know.

Stopping at a street corner, he takes a deep breath, his eyes gazing at you through his periphery. You stand there with your hands at your side, your gaze straight ahead.

Hyunjin desperately wants to touch you, feel your warm hand in his once more. He wants to feel how your fingers lightly brush against his as they bend and fold to rest upon his.

Would you pull your hand away if he reached out to grab ahold of it?

He thinks and thinks, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he ponders at what he should do. You’ve held hands in the theater, but it was dark inside and not as…as public. He’s not sure why he’s this nervous. It’s you, the love of his life, the sweet girl who bumped into him at the cafe down the street from your house. And of course you just met, but he feels as if he’s known you his whole life.

Taking a breath, he builds the courage to reach down and grab your hand, right as the signal to walk changes from red to white. He looks at you, his eyebrows raised as you stare up at him in shock, your cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of red.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

Hyunjin was cut off by your hand squeezing his.

“Don’t be sorry, I like this Hyun,” you responded, your face spreading into a smile.

Hyunjin nodded his head and smiled back, his dimple popping up on his cheek. He shook his head in resolve and started walking with you by his side. He couldn’t believe something as simple as holding your hand could make him feel this way, as if he had just won the lottery and was the luckiest man alive. He’d make sure to remember this moment for the rest of his life that’s for sure

Your relationship progressed, both of you comfortably falling into each other’s routines, your two paths merging as if it was always meant to be.

You both opted for an at home date, agreeing to cook dinner together. Hyunjin never cooked before he met you, opting to fill his stomach with take out from the local restaurants. When you found out his diet was not the best, you flipped, shrieking how he needed proper nutrients and that you would take care of his meals.

That was the start of you cooking and bringing his meals to his home, making sure he ate properly each day. He blushed as you fussed over the containers, unloading them one by one from your bag. You explained when to eat what and what each item was, as you scurried across his kitchen.

Eventually, he suggested that you come over and show him how to cook basic meals, so that way you didn’t have to make extra portions.

This suggestion led to both of you elbow deep in dough, as you showed him how to make bread, your arms flexing as you carefully kneaded the dough. He watched in awe as you worked, little droplets of sweat dripping down the side of your face.

Hyunjin didn’t realize he was staring until you asked him a question as you used the back of your arm to wipe the sweat off your face.

“Hyun!” You said, giggling as he shook his head to break out of his reverie.

“What did you ask?” Hyunjin replied sheepishly, his hands reaching for anything in his reach.

You chuckled and bumped against his arm, “I asked if you had any questions so far?”

Hyunjin had many questions as he wasn’t paying attention to your instructions, but he didn’t want to dishearten you so he said no and continued to knead the dough that was in front of him.

You both worked in comfortable silence with soft music playing in the background. Hyunjin watched as you reached into the bag of flower, grasping a finger full. You were about to throw it on the counter so the dough wouldn’t stick, but at the last second you flicked your wrist towards him, the flour flying through the air and landing on his face.

Hyunjin let out a shriek, your cackles filling the kitchen as you doubled over clutching your stomach. Hyunjin chuckled, reached into the flour bag and grabbed a handful, launching it you.

An all out flour war began, both of you leaping and dodging each other, flour flying everywhere, the powder floating gently through the air. Your clothes were splattered with the white substance, as you pelted each other. Hyunjin’s deep laughter mixed your tinkling sound, the cacophony resonating throughout the little kitchen.

Hyunjin watched as you grabbed another hand full of flour, but just as you were about to launch it at him, you slipped on the powder littering the floor, your arms flailing forwards. You shrieked and drop towards the floor, your hands reaching out to grab onto anything you could.

He quickly reached out his hands and caught you, cradling you gently within his ams. You both were breathing heavy, your chests rapidly rising and falling, little puffs of air coming from your lips as you both stood there in silence.

Hyunjin helped you stand back up, his hands traveling down your arms. He gazed down at you, his eyes catching yours. You looked beautiful, your cheeks flushed with specks of flour, wisps of your hair falling into your face.

Hyunjin’s breath caught as his gaze drifted to your lips, his mind wandering how they would feel on his. It’s not the first time he’s thought this, the idea floating around his head late at night as he laid in bed, his hand drifting to his cock that seems to always be hard during the night hours as he thinks of you.

Your eyes widen, your pupils dilating as you waited in anticipation for his next move. Time seemed to stand still as Hyunjin took a breath and gently cupped your chin, gently tipping your head up.

Leaning down, he slowly closed the gap between you two until he could feel your breath on him. There was a pause as you both stood together, his hand on your chin, his forehead against yours. Closing the final distance, your lips collided. Your lips were soft on his as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, your torso until they reached your waist.

Hyunjin could hear fireworks going off within his head and he smiled at the cliche thought, as he continued to move his lips against yours. He shivered as you wrapped your arms around his neck, clutching onto him as he continued to kiss you gently but passionately.

Just when he thought he’d run out of oxygen, you pulled away partially, a string of spit connecting your two lips, as you fought to catch your breath. Hyunjin rested his forehead against yours and let out a chuckle as you smiled, your fingers softly carding through his hair.

You both stood there gazing at each other, your lips pressing together again and again in breathy exchange. The night went on, the dough forgotten as you embraced each other, listening to the sound of your hearts beating and the sound of the soft notes of a piano flowing throughout the room.

“Let’s watch a movie baby,” you cooed, snuggling closer to him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

You both were in your bed, spending a lazy day together. Hyunjin loved being in your room, being surrounded by your scent, with the presence of your interests scattered throughout the room. He pulled you closer, chuckling as you squeaked at the sudden movement.

Your legs were wrapped around his, your hand on his belly as he lightly brushed his fingertips down your spine. Hyunjin has dreamed of a moment like this for weeks, wanting you within his arms, the promise of more lingering in the air.

And that’s exactly how the night went. He remembers lowering you on your back, your hair splayed out on the pillow, your big brown eyes staring up at him.

He pressed wet kisses all over your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, his cock swelling at the sound of your sweet moans as he worshipped your body. He found himself grinding into you, his cock meeting your core with each pass, strangled moans leaving his lips.

Hyunjin held his breath as you rid yourself of your shirt, tossing it away before settling back onto the pillow. He swallowed as you fondled your breasts, your fingers playing with your nipples looking at him with a hooded gaze.

“Touch me,” you breathed, your lips parted as you watched his every move.

He grasped your breasts, cupping the flesh as his fingers brushed and tugged against your nipples. He listened to your moans, his eyes widening as you arched into his touch, your hands reaching out to meet his. Hyunjin reveled in how they felt perfect within the palm of his hand, soft and plushy, his mind reeling at the feel of them.

He groaned as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, your back arching into him as he licked and sucked, his other hand massaging your other breast. He felt euphoric, waves of pleasure traveling through his body as he pleasured you.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, he hurriedly rid himself of his boxers, his cock slapping against his belly at the force and pre cum oozing from his tip. He took in your gaze, as you licked your lips at the sight of his member, your hands reaching out to encircle his length.

He whimpered as you slid your hand against his shaft, your palm coming up to circle the head over and over. His mouth was wide open as he shuddered in pleasure, his hips slightly thrusting up into your hand. You stroked him harder, faster, your eyes trained on him, a smirk forming on your face as you watched him fall apart above you.

“Can’t…stop love,” Hyunjin breathed, his hand reaching out to gently remove yours from his cock. “Need to be in you. Will you let me have you?” He asked with hope in your eyes.

He groaned out as you parted your legs more, displaying your wet pussy to him.

“Of course baby,” you cooed as you reached down to part your folds so your leaking entrance was on display.

Hyunjin grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it at your hole. He was about to push in when he stopped, hesitating to proceed.

You looked up at him curiously as you asked, “why’d you stop?”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, his eyes roaming up your body until they landed on your brown orbs.

“I um…I don’t have a condom,” he replied, his eyes cast downward at the implications of not being able to have you.

However, he perked up when you responded, a wide smile on your face.

“I’m on birth control, so we don’t need one if you don’t mind.”

He felt his heart flutter, his cock twitching at the thought of not only having you for the first time but also bare. He gripped his cock harder and brushed his tip through your folds, the head catching on your clit before trailing back down to your entrance.

He pushed within you, his eyes trained on your pussy as your warm walls engulfed him like a hug. He faltered slightly, letting out a breath as the pleasure was too overwhelming. You were so wet, the slide easy as he pushed further within you.

He groaned as you whimpered, spreading your legs wider so you could watch where you two were connected. Hyunjin began thrusting his hips into you, his breath stuttering as your pussy clenched around him, holding him in.

He wasn’t going to last long, the feeling of you, the smell of you, even the sound of you being too overwhelming. He quickly attached his lips to yours as he brought his hand to your clit, sloppily circling the bud to get you to your high.

He could feel you shivering beneath him, your hands clawing at his back as he pounded into you. His face was buried in your neck, your lips at his ear whispering the most dirty things, causing him to groan.

You continuously clenched around him, your arms wrapping around his middle, holding him tight, your legs wrapping around his thighs pulling him deeper within you.

You whined his name, whimpering “don’t stop” over and over.

You were driving him insane.

He was moments away from claiming you, his cock swelling at the thought of getting to fill you with his seed. His hips stuttered as his cock twitched within your walls, his mind a mess as he couldn’t think straight.

You lifted his head and brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, the action tipping him over the edge, reaching that euphoria he has only experienced within the confines of his room or in his dreams.

It was better than he could imagine, causing him to whimper as his cum filled you within. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you gasped as you reached your high, the rhythmic contraction of your walls milking him dry.

Hyunjin swallowed your moans, his body caging yours as he lazily rocked into you, riding out both of your highs.

He let out a shaky breath before pulling back, taking in your sweaty body beneath his, the clear sheen coating every inch of your skin. He withdrew his cock, watching as his cum seeped from your pussy, your walls contracting at the emptiness and pushing out the white liquid.

“I love you,” you whispered as you gazed up at him, a soft smile gracing your face.

Hyunjin felt his heart swell at the confession, his love for you expanding by the second.

You loved him.

He mouthed the words before running a hand through his hair.

You loved him.

Looking down at you lovingly, he pushed your hair back from your face, his eyes taking in the afterglow. He licked his lips and kissed you before laying down next to you and pulling you close.

“I love you.” He repeated, meaning every word as it left his mouth.

— —

Yeah firsts are scary. Hyunjin has never liked them. However, he doesn’t mind sharing firsts with you, the love of his life.

He remembers that as you descend the steps, dressed in a beautiful little black dress, your hair carefully fixed and makeup done to perfection.

Here Hyunjin is celebrating yet another first with you, your first anniversary, and he could not be happier and more satisfied.

You are his first but also his last.

Tag list: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be.