#behind closed doors fic

[anthemofgvf]

Behind Closed Doors: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

Part Seven

description: when your best friend asks for a favor, that being having his twin move in with you, you're hesitant. you've never really liked him, but you are struggling to meet your rent, so you oblige. who knew with time that you would become more upset with his presence, or upset with the fact you have underlying feelings for him that you don't want to face?

-the masterlist for this series-

trope: enemies to lovers x roommates au!

warnings for this series: alcohol and tobacco usage, explicit content (18+, minors dni), angst, swearing

word count: 6.2k

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Jake shut the door behind him, you held your breath for a moment. You watched as the lock turned and clicked into place and listened to the mute sounds of his boots trotting off out of the apartment complex. You exhaled heavily, bracing yourself onto the counter with your hands on the edge of it, your back arched away from it, and your head held up to the ceiling. So much had happened in 15 minutes, and you were still trying to comprehend it.

He completely shed himself to you. The vulnerability of his heart and feelings were on full display for you only, and you felt relieved that he had felt the same way you did all along. You beat yourself up a bit for being so selfish towards him, malicious and cruel. But that was in the past now, and he had forgiven you with a kiss to signify his infatuation.

You went through your routine of getting ready for the day: eating, taking a shower, doing your makeup, and dressing up into your work uniform. Your emotions were conflicting; you wanted to smile and be happy about relieving some of the tension between you two. But he was gone now, and you had to wait two months to feel his touch again. To feel his lips crash into yours. To smell his natural musk. To be held in his arms. To simply be intimate with him.

It was an odd feeling that brewed in your stomach, making you feel empty where you should feel full. The equation of you two was solved yet put on pause temporarily. At least you knew it was because you already missed him, and not because you regretted kissing him.

As soon as you got into work, you looked for Stacie. You always made sure she was scheduled when you were (the perks of being a manager), and you were ready to update her on the news.

"Y/n!" She called for you from the back, running to you with open arms and squeezing you tightly.

You had taken some time off work to spend more time with Jake. Thankfully, your job believed your fake excuse of grieving a loss of a family member. It was half true, though; you were grieving the loss of Jake for a period of time while he was here. The inevitable you thought you were prepared for, yet you weren't.

You huffed out a laugh as she bounced with you in her arms, patting her back to let her know you appreciated the affection. She pulled away with a gleaming smile, but it began to fade once she noticed your loss of expression.

"What happened? What did Jake do to you?" She kept her hands on your back and searched for an answer by flicking between both of your eyes.

You sighed, laughing once more to yourself to contain your bitter sadness that wretched at your heart. "Oh, he didn't do anything to me. He just...left. Left for tour."

You gave her a nod, and her lips pursed into a pout.

"Not taking it well?" She cocked her head to the side, as her face softened into sympathy.

You exhaled quickly. With a shake of your head, you said, "not really."

You opened your mouth to speak again with hesitation. Of course, you wanted to tell her, but there was still a lot to process on your end.

"He, um, kissed me before he left. He poured out his feelings onto me in a ramble, and I told him how I felt, blah blah blah. And, then we kissed. I mean, it was passionate, meaningful- not something you'd think would happen when kissing him. I used to think he was so pretentious, vain - all of that self-centered shit. But the way he looked at me, the way he held me and told me how much he cared about me not only with words but with...a kiss. I'm still sitting with all of this, Stace." You said to her.

Her mouth hung agape. She stuttered for a few moments before being able to form a proper sentence. "D-did he just leave? Did this just happen, y/n?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yeah, like an hour or so ago. I didn't realize how us admitting our feelings for each other and then sealing it with a kiss would make him leaving for tour so much worse. I'm still in shock, frankly," you exhaled an airy laugh, "but I guess it just comes to show that you don't realize how much you're going to miss someone until they're gone."

You felt like you were being dramatic. As if you shouldn't have been missing him this much. You were able to call him, text him whenever you wanted to. He was going to return, but the time in between that seemed like it would be longer. Uncertainty of what would happen while he was gone, like if he'd hook up with any girls that came his way. He wasn't tied down to you, but it felt like he was fully committed to you by the way he spoke to you.

"I'm so sorry," she gave you another hug, rubbing your back and pulling away from you to continue her small speech, "I mean, at least he's coming back, right? He's not moving out or anything. It gives you something to look forward to when he comes back, right? You two getting to see each other after so long; it's going to be electric. And, hey, modern technology allows us to talk to those who are far away. Shoot him a text, maybe call him after work. I'm sure he misses your voice."

You nodded to her, running your hands over your hair and smoothing it out as you tied it into a high ponytail. "Yeah, I think I will. I've still got to tell Josh, who I'm sure has already heard from Jake, but I think it'd mean more to him that I told him. He loves gossip."

You both laughed at your words. Josh always loved insights on your love life, and an insight on your regular life itself. He cared about that kind of thing, and always wanted to make sure you were secure.

"Gonna tell him after work?" She asked you, walking away to the front to begin a day of work.

"Think so. Have to see what he's doing. He's working on a film right now, so his schedule has been a bit tight." You nodded to her. "But I might call Jake first. Guess we'll have to see which twin I talk to first, huh?"

"That's a sentence I never thought you would say." She laughed. "It's funny how things change. I remember you being so dead set on hating Jake for the time he lived with you. Now, it seems like you want him to live with you forever."

You pushed her shoulder with a laugh. "I can't believe I was so spiteful to him. I truly just needed to give him a second change and get over myself. Things work out for the best sometimes, huh?"

You remembered the conversation you and Jake had when driving to the party.

"Well, and then one day, when you make enough rockstar money, you'll move out into a huge mansion. Or, a humble home, whatever floats your boat, I suppose."

And you didn't process what he said until now.

"Kind of like having you as my roommate. Maybe I'll just live with you forever until you kick me out."

This was hitting you hard, like a collision head-on. You needed to work and focus on the one thing that would usually ease your mind from what your life was like outside of the coffee house.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When you finished work for the day and arrived at home, you checked your phone to see a text message from Jake.

"Might have already eaten all the brownies. Don't worry, the other guys helped me out. Thank you for making them for me, I appreciate it. Hope work was okay, X."

You smiled at your phone, tugging at your bottom lip and feeling grateful for his text. Before you began to type, you looked down the hall from the kitchen where you stood and decided to go into his room. Sure, you had been in there before, but only when he had occupied it.

You shoved your phone into your pocket and saw the floors clear of his guitars. His closet was open, and half empty from his clothes. A lot of the jewelry he brought was gone, along with a multitude of shoes. It didn't feel like he lived here with you anymore, because his personality seemingly left the room.

You reached for your phone as you sat on his bed and texted him back.

"Glad you and the boys enjoyed the brownies. Work was good, but my mind was kind of everywhere. Call me when you can! I'd like to hear about tour life so far, although it's barely been a day." You responded back and shut off your phone. You looked around Jake's room once more, as it was making you depressed staying in the room that was too quiet for your liking and left to your bedroom.

You washed yourself free of the coffee house, changing into clothes suitable enough to wear outside in the bitter cold, as you planned to see Josh today. You had texted him earlier while you were on break to ask if he was free later tonight but had yet to receive a response. He wasn't a great texter, so whether he was busy or not, you were sure he'd just call instead to respond.

Silence used to soothe you. You used to adore a quiet apartment; a calm environment free of distractions. But when Jake had moved in, that original opinion was flipped around. You missed the faint sound of him playing guitar in his bedroom, humming to himself and pausing his playing to probably write a lyric down. The sounds of him shuffling around in his room. His footsteps that creeped to your room and would knock on your door to come bother you. Of course, you enjoyed his company now, but you wished you hadn't been so defensive of your space for as long as you were. So much missed time that you rid because of your hatred of him and trying to make up that time within a few weeks. It wasn't enough time, and you were just hoping that time would forgive you and allow you to be more comfortable with his absence.

Eventually, Josh called you and told you he would stop by to keep you some company later that night. You were grateful that the apartment wouldn't be so quiet anymore, and he was going to bring his big personality over to cheer you up. You hadn't told him what happened, nor did he tell you that he knew of anything, so whatever tonight would bring was a mystery to you.

To kill time, you cleaned your entire apartment. Wiping off the counters and cabinets, cleaning the bathrooms, dusting everywhere that you believed needed to be. You made the decision of playing Jake's EP while you cleaned, which helped you daydream that he was still there with you. You even let yourself close your eyes and imagine him playing in front of you, singing to you in a serenade manner.

You even reminisced on a memory that you two held while he was still here. You both were at your apartment in his room, sitting on his bed, and it did involve his guitar. He was playing you the song you heard him sing when you first saw him perform, which was "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. Thinking on that fond memory now made you realize that the song had meaning. He was singing it for you, and the song was a translation of his feelings. God were you oblivious sometimes.

You clapped and howled after he finished the last chord, watching as his face became a hue of pink and wearing a bashful smile.

"Encore, encore!" You beamed.

"I'm a bit played out, sunshine." He said as he set his guitar down onto the bed behind the two of you.

You rolled your eyes. "Will you ever give that nickname a rest? It's corny, Jacob."

He bit back a smile. "Will you ever stop calling me Jacob?"

You raised your brows. Your lips downturned into a smile, sucking your cheek and shaking your head. "If you stop calling me sunshine, I'll stop using your government name. How's that?"

He nodded, holding his hand out. "That's a deal, y/n."

You grasped his hand with a giggle, shaking it and holding your hand in his for a moment. It was coarse, with his calloused fingertips caressing the back of your hand. How could rough hands feel so soft and welcoming?

You pulled your hand from his, setting it on your lap and looking to him. "You know, for someone who says they don't rehearse often, you sure like to play your guitar a lot."

"There's a difference between rehearsing and just playing to make sure you're keeping your skills up to date. Do you expect me not to play?" He said with a hint of a smile.

"Was just a bit confused, that's all." You shrugged. "How come you don't have a show here in Nash? I assumed you'd book a venue here for tour."

"We want to do a show here separately from tour. Like, a more intimate setting, you know? It's going to be far out from the tour, so fans can come see me if they please."

"Fans are traveling all around the world for you, huh? Got some groupies, Jake?"

He chuckled at your words. "I'm-no, no y/n," he continued his laughter, "I'm not the type to do that kind of stuff anymore. You grow out of it, I guess? I'm not a hormonal teenager anymore, believe it or not. Don't think that aspect of a rockstar life is for me. Sure, flirting is fun, but it's mainly harmless." He gave you a shrug.

"Does that mean if I become a fan, you'll flirt with me more than you used to?"

"Who knows. Guess you're just going to have to find out, huh?"

You took in a breath, pressing your lips together to contain a smile and giving him a nod. You felt your cheeks burn, running to your ears and creating a fire on the entirety of your face.

"I think I'm going to head to bed before you start something you can't finish." You pointed at him, standing up and walking to the door.

You turned to him and noticed his eyes lingering on you. You considered that he was watching you walk away. Maybe his eyes trailed to your ass in your tight sweatpants, but all you did was tell him "Goodnight" and put that thought at ease.

What shot you out of your daydream was your phone vibrating on the counter, and you turned swiftly to the device and picked it up.

"You on your way, Josh?" You said into the phone.

"Actually, I am here, y/n. Decided to drop by a bit early since we wrapped up on set faster than I expected. Mind letting me in?"

"Yeah, see you in a second." You said and hung up the phone.

You walked out of your apartment and opened the door to the complex for him, rushing him inside as you bounced up and down from the biting wind that nipped at your covered legs and face. He was sure to be quick inside, and you had a full body shiver as you closed the door.

He took off his coat and gestured it to you, but you pushed it away with a smile as you felt yourself warming up.

"Good to see you." He smiled at you, placing his hand on your back and rubbing it gently. "How's the day been treating you?"

"Did you hear from Jake?" You said to him.

You opened your door and let him walk in first, and he began to kick off his shoes and place his coat on the rack that sat by your door.

His lips were pressed together, and he gave you a shake of his head. "No, why? What happened?"

"Seriously? Does your brother tell you nothing these days?" You followed him into your living room and plopped onto the couch.

He sat down next to you, throwing one arm over the back of the couch and waiting for you to speak.

You sighed and tried to think of where to begin. "Well, I guess the major event of the day was that he admitted his feelings for me, and we kissed."

Josh's eyes lit up, and with a sharp gasp, he leaned in towards you with excitement. He blinked a few times in astonishment. For a moment, he couldn't formulate words. Usually, he was never speechless, but guess it could be because nothing has shocked him this much.

"I can't believe that fucker didn't tell me! Holy shit! How do you feel?" His words tumbled out of his mouth quickly.

You laughed at him. Composing yourself, you continued.

You told him about your excitement about it all, and the relief you felt. Then, you gave him the backstory of the lead up to the kiss, and he listened intently.

"You make him nervous? You're a special woman, y/n. Rarely does he ever get nervous. He's always been a confident guy. I knew he had feelings for you, but he never really dug into the root of it."

"You knew he had feelings for me, and you didn't tell me?" You yelled with a smile, swatting his arm and looking at him with a playful, stern glare.

"Y/n, I told you the moment you called me about him moving in. I told you he's always had feelings for you, and you said that all he wanted from you was one thing. You refused to believe me, so I let it take its course. Besides, it's not my place to get involved." He explained to you.

And he was right. He did in fact tell you that Jake had feelings for you before moved in and you were finalized on your decision. And he even predicted you turning your feelings around for him.

"He likes you, y'know."

"Well, I predict that your mind will change with time. Perhaps, you know, him moving in with you and the both of you creating a bond... It's a perfect story line, in my opinion."

"I am so fucking oblivious sometimes," you slapped your hand against your head, "but I guess I should thank you for not getting too involved. We worked things out on our own."

He nodded with a hum. "Well, have you talked to him? How are you taking the whole tour and him being gone?"

"We texted earlier, and I asked him to call me when he could. I assume he's busy, so I don't expect a call anytime soon. But I do miss him a lot. I guess the whole thing that happened today really just fucked with my head, in a good way, of course. I'm glad he didn't wait, because then I would've been left with overthinking about everything that has happened between us, you know?"

"I'm guessing you're not enjoying the quiet apartment, huh? Noticed you have Jake's EP on your record player." He nodded towards the open case, then flashing his eyes at the sleeve that laid on the coffee table in front of you two. "It's hard to be away from someone that you've grown so fond over, huh?"

"Yeah," you breathed, "I sort of feel like I miss him too much."

"I think your feelings are absolutely valid, y/n. I mean, he rambled a whole uncomposed monologue to you about how he felt, then left you with a kiss. That's kind of hard to just breeze through and not give much thought." He reached his hand to your shoulder and gave it a rub.

You nodded at him. You were unsure of what to say to him, so you averted your gaze and allowed that familiar silence to roam the air and consume the atmosphere. Only for this moment did you enjoy the silence, because it gave you a second to remember how Jake's lips felt on yours, and how he held you.

"Already feeling a bit lonely, huh?" Josh said to you.

You looked to him. "Is that bad?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, of course not. Do you want some company for the night? I know I'm not Jake, but we kind of resemble each other."

You gave him an affectionate smile as you huffed a soft laugh at him. "I would really appreciate that. You sure, though? Don't you have a lot of work to do?"

"I don't go on set until later in the day. Tomorrow is another night shoot, so I've got the day to kill. Let's just watch some movies until we pass out, yeah?" He asked.

"That sounds really fucking nice. I'll make some popcorn, and let you pick out the movies, Mr. Director." You poked at him.

"I have a few good movies in mind that I'm sure you haven't seen." He pointed at you with a wiggle of his brow, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning the TV on.

You stood up and walked into the pantry, finding a few packets of popcorn and grabbing a bowl from your cabinet. You set one of the packets into the microwave and let the kernels pop.

"Does this mean I'm going to be getting a personal commentary the whole time?" You said as you walked into the living room.

"Would this be a movie night with me if I didn't talk over the movie at least once?" He turned to you with a smirk.

You sat onto the couch and gave him a shrug. "I always assumed you would be absolutely mute during movies."

"Only certain ones. But some of the movies I have picked out for tonight need a bit of explanation of some kind. They twist at your mind." He pointed to his temple and tapped at it and began the first movie.

While the movie played, you made a few runs to the kitchen to finish popping the rest of the popcorn for you two and finally bringing a large bowl full of the buttery snack for you both to enjoy. You had it set on your lap and curled up next to Josh, as there wasn't any issue with physical contact between you two. Neither of you saw each other in a non-platonic light, as it's always been a great friendship where both of you were comfortable being close to each other. You were thankful to have a friend like Josh, and to know someone so caring.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As the next movie played, Josh decided to be a bit quieter this time round and allow you to enjoy the movie. While it played, your phone rang in your pocket of your sweatpants, and you dug it out to see who was calling you. Of course, like you expected, it was Jake.

"Do you want me to pause the movie?" Josh asked you.

"No, keep watching it. I'll be back." You said, setting the near empty bowl of popcorn onto his lap and answering the call as you trotted off into your bedroom.

"Hi, Jake." You said to him as you closed your door behind you.

"Did you miss me?" He asked you.

"Back to your cocky self, huh?" You giggled with an eyeroll. You folded one arm over your body as you walked around your room.

"Was just making sure that you weren't too comfortable with my absence. In case you wanted to know, I miss you already."

You tugged at your lip. "I guess I miss you a little." You said playfully.

"Just a little? Didn't get that impression when you texted me to call you when I could."

You giggled. There was that old Jake, the one that you knew to be so confident in himself. It was good to know he was back to his old ways, but not in an annoyingly arrogant way. His nerves were soothed now that he knew you had feelings for him, too.

"Alright, so I miss you a good amount. Is that what you want to hear?"

There was a pause, but only for a moment. You heard him exhaled a staggered breath.

"Yeah, I do. Good to know you miss me, too."

There was a beat before he began to talk again.

"So, how's it going? Not getting too lonely, right?"

"Josh is over right now. We're watching a few movies, and he plans on staying over for the night." You sat yourself on the edge of your bed, throwing your legs onto the mattress and lying flat on your back.

"I'm glad he's keeping you company." He said to you.

"Did you guys get to the first stop yet?" You asked him.

"Yup. We made it to Indianapolis pretty late, so we're all in our hotel rooms right now. Kind of glad I don't have to sleep on the tour bus when we're not driving."

"Is the first show tomorrow? Are you excited?"

"Yeah, I am. It's kind of bizarre that there are people coming to see me perform, instead of seeing an opening act along with me. It feels good, like a confidence boost."

"As if you needed one." You huffed a laugh, to which he matched.

"It still feels nice!" He laughed. "But I do wish you were here with me. Sucks you have to work. Hopefully eventually you'll be able to come tour with me."

"I think I'd have to take a leave of absence to be able to do that, but hey, it's doable. Thinking about it now, it sounds fun. I'd get to travel for free while supporting you. It's a win-win." You said.

"You're just now thinking about me?"

"I've been thinking about you all day, Jake." You rolled your eyes with a smile. "You must really like hearing me talk about how much I miss you."

"Because I do. I wish you were here with me right now."

Your heart banged against your chest. The flirting that you had barely had time for when he was here was occurring now, and although you couldn't see his face, his voice was right into your ear. You squeezed and rubbed your legs tightly together, due to when he spoke, it was lustful. Frankly, both you and him knew that if he didn't have to leave, you two wouldn't have stopped kissing each other.

He continued. "You know that if I had more time with you before I left, or maybe just fessed up sooner, I would've made sure to savor our time together in a more intimate way." He spoke slowly.

"How so, Jake?" You said, pressing your thighs tightly together again to relieve some friction that you needed. You knew what he was insinuating, and you hoped he would continue.

"Fuck," he breathed, "are you sure I'm not taking time away from you? I know Josh is over."

"No, it's fine. I told him everything, so he's well aware that I'm going to be on the phone for a bit." You reassured him. You weren't going to end this phone call high and dry.

"Okay," he said, "well, for one, I want you to use your hands as a replacement of my own as I tell you what I want to do to you. What I am going to do to you the moment I see you again. Now, close your eyes for me, pretty girl."

You put your phone in the crook of your neck, leaning your phone into your ear and laying your hands on your stomach. You shut your eyes and imagined him there in front of you, as you figured that is why he asked you to do so. "Keep talking, Jake."

"I'd want to touch you everywhere, y/n. Not miss a spot on your body. Praise you, make you feel good. I'd trail my hand from the side of your face to your neck, dragging it down to your tits."

You followed his motions, using one hand to caress the side of your face, and drag it down to the cave of your breasts. You brought your other hand under your shirt, slowly creeping it up as he continued to speak.

"And of course, my mouth would explore your body, but" he chuckled, "for now, hands will do. I'd squeeze at your nipples and massage your tits."

You did as he said, exhaling a quiet sigh as you rolled your left nipple in your pointer and thumb, and massaging your other breast. You heard his choked breaths, assuming he was stroking himself, which turned you on more. You were saddened you couldn't see the sight unfold in front of you, but hearing every sound he uttered made up for it.

A long sigh was breathed into the phone on his end, which made you bite back a moan that bubbled in your throat.

"I'd then take your pants off." He said, and you quickly tugged them off and left them at your ankles with your underwear. You spit on your fingers in anticipation. "And I would be buried in between your thighs, licking at your clit."

You circled at the area, moaning into the phone quietly as a sign you were doing as he said. He groaned harshly, letting a few swears pass through his lips.

"Touching yourself like a good girl?" He asked you, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes, fuck." You whined into the phone. "Please, keep talking, Jake."

"God, I love talking you through this," he groaned, "just know I'm going to do all of this to you when I get home. Worship your fucking body, touch and kiss you everywhere I can. Make you feel so...fucking good, y/n."

You tugged at your lip, nervous that your moans would grow loud for Josh to hear. But you kept them quiet enough to be heard into the phone, and not echo onto the walls of your bedroom.

"While my tongue is on your pussy, I'd finger you slowly. Want this to last." He said to you. "Only one finger, though, babe. I'll tell you when you can add another, okay?"

You kept your fingers on your clit and managed to move your other hand around your other, sliding in one finger and curling it upon entrance. Your mouth opened as you felt your finger hit your sweet spot inside of your walls, and feel it effortlessly slide in and out of you. A high-pitched sigh escaped your lips, to which Jake groaned at.

"Keep making those pretty noises for me, y/n. And keep fingering yourself like the good girl you are."

You continued the motions, keeping true to his word and moving your finger slowly inside of you. You lazily circled your clit, as you didn't want to drive yourself to your orgasm just yet. Moans of ecstasy roamed into the phone, and they only continued to fumble out of your mouth when you heard him. If you listened closely, you could hear his hand sliding on his length at a steady pace and that had you wanting to throw your head back into the pillow.

"Go ahead and add a second finger for me and speed up your movements. You're doing so good for me, y/n."

You did as he demanded, and you bit down at your bottom lip with a whine.

"Fuck, Jake," you whimpered, "feels so fucking good."

"God, I wish I could see you right now," he sighed, "I'm sure you look so pretty touching yourself."

You let out a light giggle, grinding your hips into the motion of your fingers and leaving your mouth dropped open.

"I don't know how long I'm going to last like this, y/n. Go faster babe, I want you to cum with me."

Your eyes were squeezed shut as you let your fingers pump in and out of you and a merciless pace. Your movement on your clit had faltered, because you were so focused on your fingers hitting the one spot inside of you that was the key to your orgasm, and you began to feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

"Are you close, Jake? I'm so, so close." You whined breathlessly, making sure to keep your voice low for only his ears to hear.

"God, yes. I'm gonna cum, y/n. Keep talking to me. I love the sound of your fucking voice." He said, and it sounded like he said it with gritted teeth.

You were quick on your feet with what you would say to him. "Wanna feel you inside of me, Jake. I've waited so long for it and God do I want it badly." You moaned.

"So perfect for me, aren't you?" He said with a rushed tone. "Fuck, I'm cumming. Come on, y/n, cum with me." He said harshly.

You focused on your fingers and the sound of his choked breath as his release spewed out, and you felt your own overtake your body. A full body shiver entrapped you on your bed, with your back arching and your thighs trembling around your fingers. You held back a loud whine, closing your mouth and humming it behind your lips.

You caught your breath as you heard him catch his own, removing your fingers from yourself, putting your sweatpants and underwear back on, and getting up to clean off your hand and yourself. Your knees were slightly weak, so you were steady walking into your bathroom.

"Fuck, you okay?" He said breathlessly to you.

You closed the bathroom door and put him on speaker phone as you washed your hands. "Yeah, yeah I am. Don't think I've ever had phone sex before."

He huffed a laugh. "Glad I could be your first."

You smiled at your phone, cleaning yourself off and putting him back to your ear as you turned off the speaker button.

"I do miss you, you know. After all of this, I'd just want to be in bed next to you."

You rubbed your lips together and let another smile invade your lips. "I want that, too. Only two more months left." You said with a huff.

"It sounds longer than you think. I'm sure it'll fly by, and I'll be back before you know it."

"I sure hope so. It's barely been a day and I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel a week from now, let alone a month. But I'll get over myself. As long as you keep me updated and talk to me every now and then."

"I'll try talking to you as much as I can, y/n. Don't worry. But I should let you get back to your time with Josh, and I should catch some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

You began walking to your door and let your hand rest on the handle. "Okay, sleep well. Goodnight, Jake."

"Goodnight, y/n." He said to you and hung up the phone.

You walked out slowly, and looked to see if Josh was awake. The bowl of popcorn was on the table, and his head was rolled back on the couch with his eyes closed. You laughed to yourself and grabbed a throw blanket from the side of the couch that you had abandoned throughout the movie night. You tucked yourself in next to him, throwing the cloth over you two, and resting your eyes.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

It had been almost two weeks since that day. You and Jake talked nearly every day, either before one of his shows, or while he was on the road. If you two weren't texting, he was calling you. You both even indulged in Facetiming each other, and it was nice to see his face after a while. You two had your fair share of phone sex once or twice, but neither of you wanted to make that a main priority. You both wanted to make sure that what you had wasn't about lust, but heartfelt feelings and pure romance.

It helped that you talked to him a lot, and although you still missed him, it helped to hear his voice and see his face. He showed you some pictures from the places he traveled, different sights that he had been to and some photos of the venues he got to perform in. Sure, they were small, but he told you they were nearly packed every night. You believed him and were also beyond proud of his accomplishments.

Now, all you had left to do was wait for his return. Sure, that's what you've been doing, but after two days, it really set in that you'd have to wait longer to see him in person again. You figured long distance would be hard, but thankfully, it wasn't too difficult. You were just thankful that he was returning home to you, and not to anyone else.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

-part eight-

series taglist: @jakekiszkasmommy @anythingforjtk @gold-mines-melting @twistedmelodies @ageofhearingloss @classicsneverdie @lmaooharry @raviolilegs @mydarlingdanny @iheartjakekiszka @edtvdf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @gvf23 @flo-gvf @madneedshelp @carlyfleet @pinkunicornsandbluecows @joshysgirl @jasminesworldd @alwaysonthemend @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @takenbythemadness @jaketlove @starcatcher-jake @hi-hi-hello11 @amygvf13 @alyson814 @char289 @becinabubblegvf @worldsgayestbonenerd @intoth3ether @m0uthfl13s @klarxtr

other tags: @songbirds-sweet @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @fallonfatality @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @loverleaverslayerbeliever @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @haileygvf @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @beckahvanfleet @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @sam-i-am-20 @laneygvf @psychedelicsprinkles @malany-gvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @julihurrr @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @interstellar-shores

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Retroactive Whumptember 2023: 7

CW: Magic whump, hidden whump idk what else to call this

“I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them all what you’ve been doing to me. How you’ve been hurting me!”

“Why try?” Whumper trailed a hand across them lightly. “No one will believe you. After all, magic is the stuff of children’s stories. And you look fine, don’t you?”

A noise of deep frustration squeezed from Whumpee’s throat. That was just the problem. Whumper created pain, they didn’t create damage—not in any physical way, at least. Invisible, incorporeal claws left agony in their wake, but not a scratch on Whumpee’s skin.

“You can’t hide this forever.”

Whumper laughed. “Sure I can! I’ve hidden it for years already. It’s easy when no one believes it’s real.”

Whumper put their hand against the small of Whumpee’s back and guided them to the door.

“Now smile. You wouldn’t want to spoil a party, would you?”

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Steve Rogers, supersoldier and inept historian, confronts the absence of evidence.

Author: wobblyheadeddollcaper

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

for the summer recs!! written by our lovely mod kay!! - Anon

[Kay: Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!! 💙]

A heartwrenching start for this series, where Lan Zhan has to deal with the truth regarding his mother's death, and his feelings regarding his family and brother for keeping such information from him, and being responsible for her situation, one way or another.

Personally, Lan Wangji having to deal with the pitfalls of his sect rules, philosophy and behavior is one of my favorite kinds of angst, that can be explored in some many different ways, and I would like to see more.

close the door behind me, i'm leaving

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

M, 3k, Lan Wangji

Summary: “Wangji,” his uncle began and came over to where Lan Wangji stood. “You have grown up. I am proud of the man you have become,” Lan Qiren said, unusually sentimental – another fact that made alarm bells ring inside Lan Wangji's mind. From the inside of his jacket, his uncle pulled an inconspicuous envelope and handed it to Lan Wangji. “You're old enough to learn the truth about your parents. You mother wrote this letter to you before her death. Your brother wanted me to wait a little a longer until I give this to you, but it is time,” he explained and stepped outside as well.

~*~

The follow up of Lan Wangji's turmoil surrounding his sect, brings him to Yiling, where he finds mysterious and unorthodox Wei Wuxian.

In a masterfully done transposition of the mdzx worldbuilding into a modern setting, Lan Zhan has to battle with his presumptions and prejudices and his continuous desires when it comes to Wei Wuxian ft. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan with mentions of or favorite yiling siblings Wen Qing and Wei NIng.

An honorable mention for the author's delightful worldbuilding regarding the Burial Mounds and Wei Wuxian, which comes in various of their works and I'm always so excited to see explored.

on my wei

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

M, 23k, Wangxian & Songxiao

Summary: The driver fell silent for a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant. “The Yiling Laozu is still driving through this area though. You're a cultivator, right? You dress like one anyway. Then maybe try to reach him. He was one too. Earned his money as a driver though. Died during the earthquake. Now he's haunting the streets. Some say, he messed around with the Burial Mounds and that caused the earthquake! I mean, aren't we unfortunate enough already here in Yiling? What are the chances that a quake hits here of all places?" (Or: in the aftermath of an earthquake, the Burial Mounds start spreading and the cultivation world turns a blind eye, but Lan Wangji cannot.)

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[iridescentscarecrow]

by you talking about makima being an abusive mother i assume you're referring to eli's excellent post about CSM's association with motherhood. please do check it out if you haven't, it's been rotting away in my brain for a while and the Chainsaw Man as a birthing device is something i'll bring up in this response.

this is a really intriguing line of inquiry, and an interesting way to think of kishibe; so i'll attempt to assimilate my thoughts on how he's positioned in this answer. this will be quite long so do bear with me:

i've talked about how Family as a concept bleeds into part two from part one. in p1, makima forms for denji a Family, and in p2, denji is handed this motherhood over nayuta.

makima as the Mother is kept and collared by the state. and thinking of chainsaw man in terms of its reproductive power can be extended to its literal reproduction of the narrative. myth and memory form themselves through regurgitation, and the CSM cuts away this chain of reproduction when it eats entire concepts. when it makes people forget. there's an already apparent connection to the Womb (makima // nayuta // denji) but the selectivity in narrative-reproduction is why its central to makima and kishibe's conflict. the war against the mother who exerts control over the child.

because kishibe is the Masculine: he teaches makima and in turn makima entrusts denji and power to him,,, he narratively affirms denji's wondering if he's still able to feel, whether he shouldn't feel sadder at himeno's death by telling us, the audience, that the best devil hunters are those who "have a few screws loose." we're painted this image of denji as a feral incomprehensible Crazy thing, but this isn't true even at this phase of the story. he mourns pochita, he empathises with power's grief at losing meowy. [there's an intriguing line of thought where you compare denji with aki along this vein too, if you think about it].

and that's why the movie date with makima is actually the effective closing of this arc -- her telling denji that he does have a heart subverts kishibe's rhetoric, and what the story tells us denji is. this is makima in her role as mama, the mother, the love that she feels and recieves and creates. incidentally, the chaotic agent that kishibe envisions coincides with makima's idealisation of the chainsaw man, apart from the part where she's expressedly affectionate towards it. and who has she been raised by except these (masculine) institutions? who taught her how and what to want?

aside but "that's a lie." // he sees makima and recognises her machinations at one level but he's never really understood her or her need for love. she tells him that she wants to save people (and this may or may not be true) but he can't really parse that, can he? and kishibe also structures and contextualises so much of the story for us, just like what makima does: what i already said about denji's chaotic self, him narrating reze's past, etc. he's an independent source of information.

because yeah: kishibe is ruthless. and people often bring up kishibe's relationship with quanxi but i don't often see them balance her "ignorance is bliss" vs. kishibe's need to have a few screws loose. we know as the audience about how quanxi actively shuts herself off, but kishibe keeps talking about leaning into this devil hunter nature. and what i think is decipherable from this dynamic is that quanxi, or at least what kishibe sees her as, is kishibe's ideal. tbh she's actually a Symbol for various different ideals, her habitation and display of her sexuality alongside her Ignorance is denji's ultimate form! and kishibe trains denji... [aside but this is why cosmo being her gf is so interesting to me. something something woman who thinks ignorance is bliss x devil who embodies the Horrors of Knowing]

kishibe blindfolding himself after her death is him transposing that ignorance onto himself. he doesn't want to see a thing -- and that's where you see that dissonance. it's not that he's beyond caring, it's how blind he is in how he does this caring.

and kishibe strains against this, he wants to cut away his relationships as contrasted with makima (and even denji) wanting to form them. and this is why makima cutting off kishibe's last tie to quanxi is so interesting because you remember: quanxi didn't accept his deal.

you have kishibe pining after quanxi and yet she's not sexually available to him, so he further isolates himself. and the forming and breaking of relationships comes back here so vividly --

aki's and power's deaths form the CSM out of denji. it's crazy and unpredictable but it doesn't challenge makima, does it? // "attacks don't work against her."

and when all is said and done, denji tells him it's love. loove. denji's the one who explains makima to kishibe. they're sitting at the bench and denji's petting the dogs while nyako, the willingly domesticated animal, twirls itself around kishibe... and kishibe handles the cat with such affection. denji tells him it's love so what does he do except hand nayuta to him??

thank you for the ask, anon!

[volivolition]

perceppy doodles, with my usual headcanons of "whatever harry's seeing showing up in the mist" and "whenever harry's not using a sense, it shows up on perception." suddenly trapped in a dark room? pop! you have eyes again! and then some froggy hat coffee tasting :3 i love my senses <3

[angelasscribbles]

Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1: The Invitation

 Series: Behind Closed Doors

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Max, Liam x Max (he hopes)

Word Count: 916

Rating: R for mature themes

Warnings for this chapter: sex is alluded to

A/N: I teased this one a long while back. Finally had some inspiration for it, so here's the first chapter!

A/N2: This story explores a bit of relationship anarchy. Here's a link if you want to learn more.

Series Premise: Six people come together in a kaleidoscope of shifting boundaries.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “Wait…you want me to go to the palace with you?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “I need a wingman, Riley, and you’re really good at it!”

“But—”

Max took in her hesitation and a startling thought occurred to him. “Oh! Is this awkward because we…because of…”

“Oh, good god, no!” Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a full-throated belly laugh. Her hand landed on his bicep as she leaned forward to catch her breath. “I love you, Max. Truly, deeply, madly, but as friends! You know that!”

“I know.” His fingers scratched at the freshly shorn hairline along the back of his neck as a flush raced across his face. “I just wanted to be sure…after what happened last month…”

Riley stepped closer and traced a finger across his lips. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shivered as her touch sent a sliver of desire sparking through him and, without much conscious thought, his arm shot out to pull her in even closer. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?”

She laughed again as she gazed up into the cobalt-blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own emerald-green orbs. Max had been her best friend since they met in a ridiculously overpriced private kindergarten.

Neville Van Couer, big for his age and just as disagreeable then as he was now, had yanked Max’s stuffed octopus from his arms and was holding it above his head, taunting him with it.

“Please give back Sir Inks a Lot.” Max’s trembling voice betrayed his fierce determination not to cry. “My mom gave him to me.”

“Oh, are you going to cry, little crybaby? It’s just a stupid toy. I tell you what—”

“Give it back.” A firm, uncompromising voice cut in.

Neville spun to find the interloper. His malicious grin widened when his eyes fell on the slight girl with the wispy brown hair. “And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

Without warning or preamble, the girl moved. She darted forward so quickly that Neville had no time to process what was happening. A sharp blow to his stomach sent him pitching forward, grabbing his midsection as the toy was ripped from his grasp.

“Here.” The girl thrust the plushie out to Max.

He wiped the moisture from his tear-streaked cheeks with one hand as he reached out for his beloved Sir Inks a Lot with the other. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a bright smile that washed all of his sadness away. “My name’s Riley. Want to play with me?”

“We can do it anytime you want.” She assured him. “It’s not like we’re not good at.”

Max smiled at the reference to their romantic and sexual past.

They had lost their virginity to each other in high school and spent six months exploring everything the other had to offer. Then Max had confessed to being bisexual and wanting to explore with other people. Primarily men. His relief when Riley had agreed to break up romantically but remain friends had been overwhelming. She was and remained the closest friend he had.

A month ago, they had gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. It had felt good, comfortable, and familiar. He loved her.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Liam and that’s why he needed her support at the upcoming Beltane Ball that the palace held every year.

His arms tightened around her. “So to be clear, you know I love you and you’re okay helping me try to get Liam’s attention?”

Her grin widened until her cheeks hurt. “Boy, yes. Did we or did we not discover relationship anarchy at the same time?”

Giddiness crashed through his chest. The idea that you could love people but still remain autonomous was brilliant enough. Add in the deconstruction of things like relationship hierarchy and mono-normativity and, well, it had been paradigm-shifting.

“Okay,” he nodded as relief washed over him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”

“I know.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

He melted against her for a moment, then drew back. Because he had to know for sure everything was okay between them. “Then why the hesitancy when I asked you to go to the ball with me?”

“Because I’ve never been to the palace, silly!” Her family was insanely wealthy, but not noble.

“Oh, yeah!” Max tended to forget the difference in their social status. Mainly because it didn’t matter to him. People were people and titles like Duke and Count meant nothing when it came to what kind of person someone was. After all, Neville was noble.

“Oh, yeah! I mean…what do I even wear? Do I need to know how to curtsy? What if—”

Max cut her off by jerking her back into his embrace. “Don’t worry, padawan. We have two weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know!”    

“Great!” Riley bounced on her toes, excitement swirling through her midsection.

The palace! What an exciting adventure!

She threw her arms around him. “We could make a week of it! Go into the city. Shopping, dining, museums, the theater….”

He dipped his head toward her, his lips bare inches from hers. “Can we share a room?”

“Oh, we’re going to share a lot more than a room!” she assured him just before their lips crashed together.

[cosmics-beings]

on the outside i think starop is like all cutesy and innocent but i actually think they'd be like the most sexually charged couple in existence.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 4

Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words

A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)

All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.

The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 

There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.

This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.

How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.

You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.

Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”

Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”

“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.

“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”

You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”

"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"

“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”

And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”

You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.

How could you be upset about that?

"I'm not... mad.”

There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"

You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."

“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 

"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.

"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”

Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.

Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.

"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.

“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.

“Do I?”

“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”

"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”

“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”

“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”

Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”

“And?”

You rolled onto your side. “And what?”

“Do you not miss my absence at work?”

“Well…”

“Well?” He prompted.

Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.

Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.

“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.

There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”

“…like what?”

“Like you’re out of breath.”

You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.

It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”

“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”

You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”

“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”

You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”

“In every way?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”

“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”

“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”

“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”

“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”

"I don't understand."

At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.

“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”

You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”

"Yes?" he responded innocently.

"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

"I find precise communication to be very important.”

You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”

His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"

"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”

You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.

He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."

You could, but you’d rather not.

"I didn't want to sound desperate."

"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.

“Tell me, what do you want now?”

You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.

“I want… you.”

“Tell me how you want me.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”

“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”

You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.

Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.

Your hand began to move.

“I… I want your hands on me.”

“Where do you want my hands?”

“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.

“Everywhere?”

You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“On my hips…”

Your hand danced across your hips.

“My stomach…”

Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.

“Between my thighs…”

You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.

“Where else do you want me?”

Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”

“Tell me exactly where.”

“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I…”

“Are you?”

“No…”

“Do you want to touch yourself?”

You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”

“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”

"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”

There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.

“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.

“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”

You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”

“Describe it to me.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”

And you wished he was the one touching you.

You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.

Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”

You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.

“Better?”

You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”

“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”

His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.

“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"

"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.

“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”

You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.

The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”

"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”

You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.

Yet look at how much effect he had on you.

"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."

"In a good way, I hope?"

“Very good,” you assured him.

You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”

You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.

"How does that feel?"

"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.

“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”

You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.

“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”

“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”

You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.

“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”

You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.

“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”

You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.

“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”

Your breaths came in short gasps.

“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”

Your legs fell further apart.

“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”

How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.

“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”

You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.

“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”

You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”

Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”

You hummed a reply.

“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”

A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.

“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”

You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”

“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.

“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”

“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.

“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”

You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”

And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"

Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”

You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”

“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.

Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”

You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”

You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.

“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”

Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.

"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”

With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”

The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.

Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.

“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”

A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"

You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”

"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"

You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”

“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”

You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”

Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.

“What?”

“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?"

"Well, yes, but now it's… different."

You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"

"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."

A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”

“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”

“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”

He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”

“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

“But if you insist…”

You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Wait—You’re hanging up?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”

He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”

And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.

But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.

It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.

“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.

You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.

“How do I turn this into video call again?”

[pynkhues]

I love this art so much, it has a special place in my mind along with all TVL fits. do you think Lestat used to dress up for Louis like this before Claudia? 👀

https://www.tumblr.com/artgroves/762199491171467264?source=share

I love that sooooo much, anon! That art deco style just suits the show so well, and as someone with numerous monsteras, I love that they feature so prominently (especially given the fact that the plant name literally translates to monstrous too!)

And ah! Y'know, I'm always kind of in two minds about whether or not Louis is into Lestat in drag? It features so much in fic (and I often enjoy it in fic!) but we don't get a reaction shot from Louis when Lestat was in his King of Mardi Gras / Marie Antoinette costume, and it feels a little loaded to me that even when they have their first and last dance that night, Lestat's back in menswear.

I tie that a little to fashion of the era? I just tagged it on another post, but I was listening to the Behind the Bastards episodes on Beau Brummell recently who's partially responsible for transitioning men out of the flamboyance of 17/1800s dandy fashion and into what's effectively the modern suit, and it kind of made me think of that transition point in 1.01 when Louis - who's extremely stylish - literally pulls Lestat's wardrobe from said dandy fashion to modern, and notably masculine suits, even if Lestat keeps the cinched/practically corsetted waist, as Carol's mentioned in costuming Lestat. It kind of goes hand-in-hand to me with Louis wanting to dress Claudia too in very girlish, doll-like looks - - like there's this sense of convention, modern fashion and trend for him?

I can see that tying into a lot of his own sensibilities in general (and again, one day I'll write my Louis-is-probably-a-misogynist post, haha), but I also think Louis as a gay man might be a bit more into masculinity generally when it comes to intimate partners?

I don't know! It's something I've been thinking about a bit recently for fic related reasons myself, haha,

[changeyourfcar]

a little sneak peek at the start of chapter 8 of Rivals on track, lovers behind closed doors (15999 words) by rainfeelswet

Pierre Gasly was seemingly the only person in that media pen noticing the looks shared between his best friend, Charles Leclerc, and the Dutch number one driver. What was that? Another few seconds of Charles being completely gone from their conversation, another few seconds during which Pierre’s words hit only the air between them and did not seem to reach Charles. But this time Pierre did notice the thing that seemed to distract the Monégasque and Pierre could swear it was Max Verstappen. Maybe- No, it could not be.

[nettlestingsoup]

current fic editing position is 'sitting on the kitchen counter with my laptop while watching a freezer defrost' because apparently i'm the most responsible adult in a shared house full of people decades older than me

[cloverzbandit]

Happy Borth my Child Agent Eight! Here is the preview for Part 9, Behind Closed Doors, "Found."

RELEASING ON JULY 16th, 2023 on my ao3.

It took time to find more answers. She wanted to figure out her whole story. She wanted to know what Tartar said about her. But whatever he did to her mentally blocked her memory. Anything she found that was attached to her past she would stare at, get lost, and let her hand do the talking. She knew the summary of what happened. But there were still gaps—lost memories—ones not too significant but important nonetheless. It might be useful.

But alas. Nothing much was uncovered. It was frustrating. With a sigh, she took a break and headed to the kitchen. 

It was 4:34 now and Brook(Agent Three) was off at her Aunts and Uncles place. She did eat lunch and took a nap but she had a weird dream, kind of spooky. 

She saw silhouettes of other octolings: voices yelling and her body moving to follow their words. It was all muffled. She just spectated. The setting was in a hallway, then went to an open space. There were more octolings running around frantically—in a hurry. She was even running around, panting. Someone yelled at her and she ran to another location. She stopped and typed something into a keyboard and looked at a screen. 

Eight didn’t see clearly but something was moving and her body yelled back anxiously as she reached for her octo shot, grabbing something, and looked around the room—now in a lab—in alert. Everyone else left. The door for escape locked along with everyone else in its safety on the other side. Eight knew something was coming. Yelling again from the other side of the locked door. All she could manage was “your own,” and felt tears running down her face. She felt… fear. Felt her breath pick up—shaking. Her thoughts raced, only managing to hear “shoot, die, help” in a panic.

Footsteps. Not like octoling boots. Eight ran to the other doorway option, knowing it was just empty space and a dead end. She looked behind her shoulder and saw someone—someone familiar but their form a shadow with glowing headphones and tinted orange tentacles, standing in the doorway from the other side. They aim to shoot at her, moving through the hallway with haste to catch her.

[🎨@herosplatling-replica]

But she soon reached that dead end. She knew she was done for. She had nowhere to run—nowhere to hide; no other escape routes except for the one she came from that was now locked and blocked. But that thing is chasing her. Her finger pressed the trigger and the two danced around each other for what seemed like ages. It was long; painful. The attacker started to grow more impatient and used specials. 

She didn’t make it on the third splashdown. Eight only managed to tap the intruder's shoulder before she heard something fall; a little clanging noise as it hit the ground. That was the end.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Behind Closed Doors

Fallen Angel

Sunsets and Shadows

Paint My Heart

Fe!!! Thank you SSSOOO much for the multiple asks! 😍 I love you!

Because I tend to go a little overboard with these, I'm going to break them up into their own post so this ask isn't HUGE 😅 But I will link them below once they are posted!

Behind Closed Doors (Rhett Abbott)

Fallen Angel (Miles Miller)

Sunsets and Shadows (Vampire!Rick Flag as part of the "Eternally Yours" series)

Paint My Heart (Robert "Bob" Floyd)

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

[gurggggleburgle]

following up as a sequel to my hot take of i don't think the mxtx boys from other series would ever really be friends I don't think any of the tops in these books would ever get along outside of mutual tolerance.

For one I don't think Lan Zhan could stand Luo Binghe for more than five minutes at a time because Luo Binghe is everything he can't stand amped to 12. Lan Zhan is someone who values emotional independence and freedom and automony in his SO and Binghe... is Binghe. A 20s wreck who by the end of the book realizes he needs to really work on his extreme emotional dependence and trust issues and also is more than willing to be manipulative to get what he wants. He's a mess and I love him. Also... like I feel fandom constantly forgets that Lan Zhan post 13 years is almost 40 and a thing you realize as you age is that it becomes harder and harder to deal with people that much younger than you. I'm not even 35 yet but I can't stand 20 year olds half the time. They annoy me greatly. Luo Binghe himself would never have anything of interest to say to them to. Luo Binghe would not put in the effort to understand or connect with Lan Zhan unless he has to because that's the kind person Luo Binghe is. Luo Binghe is extremely transactional in how he processes relationships for the most part. He's just not going to make that connection.

Meanwhile with Hua Cheng and Binghe i just don't think they have literally anything to talk about with each other despite being the most similar in terms of personality and such. I feel Hua Cheng would see himself in Binghe but in the 'oh gross looking at middle school pictures of myself' manner. They would tolerate each other have respect but that's it. Binghe at best is asking for advice form Hua Cheng. And Ghost Mc Sugar daddy never contacts him otherwise.

Meanwhile I think Lan Zhan and Hua Cheng are on good terms and get along. They can have a conversation and be amicable but I can't see why they would ever bother without an outside reason. Like them being neighbors who both hate the HOA or just 'hey can we enter your domain to kill a ghost?' sort of thing. Lan Zhan himself would never seek out Hua Cheng on his own and this isn't because i think Lan Zhan is incapable of friends. It's the opposite. I think Wangji actually has a decent number of actual friends (even if he doesn't actively say they're friends and it's just these are the people he sees often and is on good terms with) but you have to approach him or make him interested or he just doesn't care or bother most the time. Hua Cheng himself doesn't seem like the kind of guy to bother.