#but i do feel that some of the songs would hit a little too close to home for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barbiiecams · 6 months ago

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the “first” time

drew starkey x younger!reader, smut, haven’t wrote ina minute yall sorry 😣. i also recommend listening to the song while reading.

you were cuddled up into the side of drew while he had his arm around you, keeping you close to him as you watched the third horror movie tonight.

but little did he know, you were practically soaked down there.

it took a lot of self restraint in you not to squirm around, but you were almost about to start.

the view of him with his blank tank top, grey sweats, a little stubble, a buzzed head and that damn gold chain had you pressing your thighs together for dear life.

it was such a random moment for you to be feeling like this too. he always looked good, that was for sure. him in general had that type of affect on you.

but right now had to have been your peak ovulation or something, because you needed him bad.

you started off with a simple and subtle movement by moving your hand from where it laid on his chest, and slowly down to the top of his abs.

no reaction.

after this, you had to come off a little more bold. you repositioned yourself, pushing your face more upwards into his neck so that plush of your butt would be more into his hand instead of the bottom of your spine.

and still, no reaction.

the only type of movement that came from him was him licking his lips. this did not help your case in the slightest.

it was just throbbing at this point. you wanted him to give it to you so bad, knowing he’d still be a little hesitant.

you and drew had been together for 8 months now, and there were still no real intercourse going on.

of course, drew didn’t mind using his fingers on you, and you didn’t mind using your mouth on him.

but you wanted, no, needed the real thing.

it’s not like you were a virgin either. you’ve had some experience before him.

and still with this knowledge, drew still was convinced you weren’t ready for him.

your core was ready for him at this point, “drew,” you finally spoke up.

“hm” he said in that low, raspy tone of his. *reason number 300 why you needed to be dicked down this instant*

in reality tho, you really did wish he would just take a hint. actually having to say what you wanted was just too… confrontational.

“i’m really like…” you didn’t make eye contact with his eyes. you were trying not to make yourself laugh at how embarrassing it was to actually tell him at the same time.

drew on the other hand was just waiting for you to finish your sentence, confused as ever.

“really what?”

you sighed. “i really, really, really, really need you. like really”

the words were finally out, but not direct. that was the most he was gonna get from you.

the realization hit him and he let out chuckle, “okay.” was all he said before he started kissing you.

but you knew what he was gonna do, and that wasn’t just all that you wanted.

you pulled away gently, “no like i actually need you. i don’t want just the fingers.”

he raised his eyebrows at this, the actual realization hitting him this time.

“a- are you sure baby?” he asked with genuine concern.

“i’m positive. i’ve been wanting it for so long.”

he’s rubbing your thigh with his hand. “i don’t know sweetheart… are you positive you want it?”

you almost started whining. “yess, drew. i’m so very serious.”

you could see that drew was very hesitant just thinking about it, but then also at the same time considering it.

“just so you know, don’t think that we have to do all of that to be together. i love you for you-”

as much as you loved your man right back, you were getting a little fed up. “yes i know babe but i really need to feel you right now.”

he smirked at your bold statement. for the first time in 8 whole months of the relationship, drew finally caved in.

“alright. don’t wanna hear it’s ‘too much’ either.”

you didn’t get the chance to respond because his lips were already on yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth and holding the back of your head.

this is what you’ve been waiting for so desperately. that rough side of his.

he’s laying you down completely on your back, focused on getting your pajama pants and panties off at once.

at the same time, you’re trying to get his shirt off. you were so ready to just take all of him.

you fumbled with his own sweats and boxers while he fumbled with your shirt, eventually resulting in the both of you being completely exposed to each other.

he runs his hands down your body, “shit.”

you felt him getting harder and harder on your leg. you could tell he was starting to feel that throbbing sensation himself when he guided your hand onto his cock and made you run him.

and while you were doing that, his hand moved to your own folds and started rubbing too. you couldn’t help the gasps that came out either.

his mouth moved down to your neck, leaving a bunch of hickies that would be pointless even attempting to cover the next day.

deciding to tease him a little, you started rubbing the tip of his cock, leaving him with his mouth slack and letting out breaths right by your ear.

“you ready for this dick, baby?” he says while moving his hard on from the palm of your hand, to rubbing at your entrance.

“mhm!” you moan out.

that’s all he needed. he clearly was just as needy all this time as you were. not too much foreplay and no multiple asks of confirmation. he just slid right in and bottomed out too.

his face scrunched in pleasure, “so tight baby. so fuckin tight.”

and he was so big. you weren’t unfamiliar with his girthy and lengthy cock, but the feeling of it actually inside you was foreign. you almost didn’t know if you could actually take it.

almost. you definitely were not stopping him from ruining your insides.

as the respectful king drew is, he waited for you to give him the “okay” to start moving. all you had to do was nod, and he started with a medium pace.

the moans that were already coming out of you were loud. it was so nice, especially on a night like this to be making love to drew.

he wasn’t silent either. you felt perfect around him. he had to let it be known too with the groans that came from him.

“you feel so good baby, so damn good.” he throws his head back.

“more…” you say, a little breathlessly too.

drew doesn’t even question it. he started hitting it harder and a little faster too.

“anything you want, love. this pussy was made for me baby. all for me.”

you wanted to respond and agree, but before you could, drew let a ball of spit out of his mouth and down to where the two of you connected. you were already very wet, and he already had a lot of precum going on.

and now the sound that was traveling throughout the house? straight pornographic.

“you hear that? you hear that pussy baby?” he says, lips back down onto yours.

but you could barely answer. he was going even faster and harder now, leaving you speechless with just your mouth open and small gasps coming from you.

but his hands move to your neck, “i asked you a question.”

your hands laid on top of his wrists, “yes papa.”

he let out an approving nod at your response. “good girl.”

drew moves his hands from around your neck, and he now has your knees pushed into your chest, with his hands firmly planted on the back of your thighs.

and because of this new position, he’s inside you so deep, and hitting that right spot which makes you scream out.

he smiles at the loud reaction. “is that it, baby? right there?”

“yea!” you whined back as a response.

he lets out a chuckle, and then feels you clench around him which knock him back down even further into the pleasure.

“yea baby, fuck. keep doing that.” he groans.

you weren’t just doing it to do it, tho. you were seconds away from cumming all over him.

“m’gonna cum…” you said, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“yea? go ahead baby. wanna feel it. cum all over this fat cock.”

a few more thrusts later, he got his request. you were cumming for so long on him, and he just kept fucking you through it. fucking you more harder than previously, actually.

he was getting so lost into it, so focused on getting his own release to. and with the faces and noises he’s started to make, you could tell he was almost there too.

“want your cum.” you said to him.

he moved is hands from your thighs and up to your hips, giving you the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and trap him into you.

“don’t play with me.” he warns.

“m’not! need to feel you cum inside me. i don’t care what happens.” you babbled. you definitely cared what would happen, but in the moment nothing else mattered.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, baby. y’know that?”

“i know. i wanna feel you fill me up so bad… make you a daddy.” you spur him on even further, knowing the affect it would have on him.

the grip he had on your hips got insanely tight. it kind of hurt in a way, but you didn’t care knowing that he was about to nut inside of you at any moment.

and just as you clenched around him like you did earlier, you felt him smash his hips into yours, this time keeping them connected together.

he came buckets into you. his hot, long ropes of sperm had you feeling full like it was nobodies business.

and he really needed to take a minute to collect himself. the both of you were gasping for air, him still inside you for a good minute after.

when he pulled out, you felt like jelly and so did drew. he laid back down himself, pulling your body into his.

“i’ve been waiting for that.” he spoke.

there was apart of you that kind of didn’t believe that. “you kept saying i wasn’t ready.” you chuckled.

“i know, bad mistake. i almost proposed to you halfway through.”

you laugh at him and snuggle up more into him.

he playfully taps your stomach. "we're gonna have to get you on birth control baby." he says, referring to the comment about giving him a baby earlier.

"i know." you giggle. "i kinda like the excitement tho i dont know."

he shakes his head, half jokingly and half serious. "these youngins"

you slap his chest and roll your eyes, "oh shut up unc." this makes him let out a laugh too.

the movie that was playing in the background was long over, and you both still had yet to realize netflix was asking if you guys were still watching.

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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hii can you plsss do college fling!joshua too (with smut if you like!) thank you <3

warnings: smut, dorm-kitchen counter sex, clit stimulation, penetrative sex, dirty talk, teasing.

college fling!joshua’s definitely not the type to be found at some wild frat party, shirt half-buttoned, shouting about shots. he’s more… chill. like, you can see him with a small group of people, maybe talking about some obscure trivia fact or just hanging back with his guitar, strumming casually. and you notice him in those quiet corners, head down, minding his business, but when people need help, he’s there, no hesitation. just this soft smile, eyes that look like they’ve got their own glow. no front, no ego.

it’s karaoke night when you really notice him, though. one of those lowkey, “organized by the student council” kinda nights, where everyone’s already a little awkward, shifting in their seats, waiting for someone to break the ice. and there’s joshua, sitting off to the side, fingers tapping lightly against his leg to the beat of some old song. you’re not even surprised when the karaoke machine starts acting up, some tech issue, because of course, it would. you glance over at joshua, who's already looking around for someone to fix the damn thing. you try messing with the settings on the machine yourself, but the screen flashes error messages, and honestly, you just wanna punch the damn thing. you groan under your breath, “seriously? i’m not dealing with this shit right now.”

“need a hand?” joshua’s voice pulls you out of your frustration, and you turn to see him standing there, that soft smile of his doing most of the talking. like he’s amused at your mini-meltdown but too nice to say it.

“yeah, this thing’s giving me hell.” you lean back, giving up for a second, hands raised like you’re surrendering to the machine. “you know anything about fixing this?”

“nah, but i can try,” he says, stepping in a little closer. and you can smell him—fresh, like he doesn’t even have to try. just naturally… clean, if that’s a thing. his fingers brush the buttons, the machine beeping a little, but still refusing to cooperate. he chuckles under his breath. “guess it’s not in the mood.”

you smirk, feeling the tension ease a little with him around. “yeah, technology’s a bitch sometimes.”

“always.” he laughs, this soft, almost shy sound, but then his gaze lands on the guitar sitting by the stage. “y’know… if this thing’s not working, we could just do it old-school.”

you raise a brow, curious. “old-school? like… live music?”

he nods, picking up the guitar like it’s second nature to him. “yeah, i mean… it’s karaoke night, right? we’ll make our own music.” there’s something about the way he says it, all easy and laid-back, that makes you wanna go along with it. he’s not pushy, but you feel pulled in by his vibe. the room’s already a bit more relaxed, people chatting amongst themselves, so you shrug and sit back on one of the chairs in front of the stage. “alright, hit me with your best shot.”

he laughs, adjusting the guitar strap, and then strums a few chords, testing the waters. it’s a familiar tune, something simple and nostalgic, and he hums along softly, almost like he’s figuring out the right words to sing. and when he finally starts, his voice is buttery smooth, like it was made to just slip into your ears and settle in. it’s not showy, not overly polished, just nice. like something you didn’t know you needed until you heard it. you can’t help but watch him, a little too closely maybe, as his fingers move over the strings, his body swaying a little with the rhythm. his eyes flick up to yours, and for a split second, it’s like the room disappears. there’s just you and him, and this stupid little connection through music. cheesy as hell just like the barbie's movie says, but it’s there.

“you wanna sing along?” he asks, like he’s already expecting you to say no, but he’s hopeful anyway.

you bite your lip, half-laughing. “if i do, i’ll ruin the vibe.”

he tilts his head, amused. “nah, you won’t. c’mon, what’s your go-to song?”

you hesitate, feeling a little exposed, but then screw it. if joshua can stand up there and casually play a whole damn song in front of people, you can at least join him. you mutter the name of some old song, and before you know it, he’s playing the first chords. you start singing, a little unsure at first, but his guitar backs you up, makes you feel more confident.

and it’s weird, ‘cause it’s so not what you expected to be doing tonight—singing a duet with joshua hong of all people. but here you are, the two of you vibing, making the room your own little bubble for a while.

after a while, you stop caring if anyone else is even paying attention. it’s just fun, and you’re actually enjoying yourself, which… yeah, is rare for these kinds of school-organized things.

“see? not so bad, right?” he says, a little breathless, guitar still in his hands.

“yeah, i guess that wasn’t too bad,” you admit, feeling your face heat up a little.

and just like that, you’re kinda hooked. you don’t even know why, but there’s something about how easy it is with him. he’s not forcing anything, just letting shit happen, and it’s fun. more fun than you’ve had in a while, honestly. “thanks for, uh… saving karaoke night,” you say, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

he shrugs, smile never leaving his face. “anytime. but, um… maybe next time, we won’t need the machine at all.”

and there it is again, that little spark of something—like he’s leaving the door open for whatever comes next. not pushing, not expecting. just waiting to see if you’re gonna step through.

you smile back at him, feeling your heart beat just a little faster. “yeah… maybe.”

college fling!joshua that would approach you with his shy ass in the hallway like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. ‘cause he wasn’t the type to just walk up to someone and invite them over. you weren’t expecting it either. but there he was, scratching the back of his neck, trying to play it casual like it didn’t take him a full two minutes to get the words out.

“uh… i’m having a few friends over on friday. you know, snacks, music, nothing crazy. you should come.”

you remember his smile, that little tilt of his lips that had your stomach flipping like you’d already said yes before your brain could process. and obviously, you agreed.

so friday night rolls around, and you’re standing in front of his dorm in this fresh little dress you threw on last minute. not like you’re trying to impress him or anything, but you catch the way his eyes drop the second you step in. joshua’s trying to keep it together, but you can feel his gaze like a burn, lingering on your legs before he quickly looks away. there’s this subtle hitch in his breath when he greets you, and his cheeks turn a little pink, but he pulls himself back into being the polite, nice guy he is.

his dorm’s small but neat, smelling like fresh laundry and some subtle citrus scent from the diffusers he’s got stashed in the corners. there’s a few of his friends scattered around, all of them chill, chatting over music that’s playing just loud enough to vibe to. joshua’s close-knit group, not the party type, exactly what you expected. he’s quick to make sure you’ve got everything—“you want a drink? water? soda?”—and then asks if you need a blanket when he notices your legs.

“you good? it’s a bit chilly, i can grab something if you want.”

you almost laugh at how hard he’s trying to be respectful, like the thought of your legs exposed is messing with him more than he’s willing to admit. but you shake your head, leaning back on the couch with your drink and teasing him a little. “i’m fine, joshua. don’t worry.”

he gives you this awkward smile like he’s low-key relieved, but you see him still trying to fight his instincts to look.

after a couple of hours, his friends head out, leaving the place a little messy—empty cups and snack wrappers scattered on the table. you’re quick to start picking things up, despite joshua’s protests.

“seriously, you don’t have to clean up. i got it.”

but you insist, throwing away trash and stacking cups, and before you know it, it’s just the two of you alone in his small dorm. the quiet settles in, just the low hum of music in the background, and you notice how much more intense it feels without anyone else around. joshua’s hovering by the window, glancing out towards the campus, and then he shuts it without saying anything, locking the latch with this quiet click.

“just in case,” he mutters to himself, not looking at you.

you’re leaning against the counter now, arms crossed, watching him. there’s something in the way he’s moving slower. like he’s waiting for you to make the next move. but you don’t, ‘cause part of you wants to see where he’ll take it.

joshua turns, finally meeting your eyes again, and it’s different this time. there’s no one else here, no distractions, and he’s got that nervous energy radiating off him. “thanks for, uh, staying to help,” he says, his voice softer now, stepping a little closer.

“no problem.” you smile, and it’s so obvious what’s happening, but neither of you is calling it out.

he’s standing in front of you now, closer than he was before, eyes flicking between yours and then down to your lips. it’s subtle, but you catch it, and it’s like that’s all the signal you needed. your heart’s racing, but you stay calm, lifting your chin just slightly as if daring him to do something.

and he does.

slowly, almost like he’s scared to break the moment, joshua reaches out, one hand finding your waist, his fingers hesitant at first. then he pulls you in, just enough that there’s barely any space left between your bodies. you feel the warmth of him, and when he leans down, his breath ghosts over your lips.

you can tell he’s thinking about it—overthinking, probably—because he pauses, eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. but you don’t. instead, you close the gap, brushing your lips against his. he lets out this shaky breath, and suddenly his hands are on you, one cupping your face, the other steadying your waist. he deepens the kiss, slow but knowing, like he’s taking pleasure in every second. his lips are warm, soft, but there’s this need in the way he moves.

your hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. he responds by pressing you back against the counter, not forceful, but enough that you can feel the solidness of his body, everything intensifying.

“is this… okay?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and breathless, and you swear the way he asks, so fucking polite in the middle of a heated kiss, makes you want to open your legs for him even more.

“yeah, joshua,” you whisper back, pulling him in tighter.

his lips are still on yours, but there’s nothing sweet about the way he’s kissing you anymore. “turn around.” your breath catches because the tone’s different. he’s not asking now, he’s telling, and the sudden deep voice is doing things to you. so you turn around, heart racing, hands bracing yourself against the counter. you feel his body press up behind yours, and his hand, slides down your waist, squeezing, as he grinds into you. it’s slow, teasing, and already you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

“fuck, joshua…” the words come out in a breathy gasp, ‘cause honestly? you didn’t expect this from him—not the shy guy who asked you to his dorm like it was some casual hangout.

“sorry,” he breathes out, lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. “can’t… fuck, i can’t help it.”

you let out a shaky breath, trying to stay steady, but he’s not giving you the chance. his other hand comes up, gently pushing your back down until you’re bent over the small counter, ass pressed right up against him. you’re not even sure how it escalated this quickly, but fuck, you’re not complaining.

then you feel him, fingers brushing against the hem of your dress, pulling it up to expose more skin, and his hand lands firmly on your ass. not too hard, just enough to make you gasp, your body arching a little further into him. “you okay?” his voice comes out breathy, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s fighting to hold back. and before you can even respond, he’s slipping a hand between your legs, fingers ghosting over your clothed heat, and you swear you hear him let out this needy ass moan, “fuck, you’re already so wet.”

you nod, holding back a whimper, pushing back into him for more. but he doesn’t rush it. his fingers slip under the fabric, pressing right where you need him, just enough to make you moan, and he chuckles—this soft, wicked sound that makes your skin burn.

“such a good girl for me, hm?” he mutters, his breath hot against your ear now as his fingers start rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit. he’s not just pressing down; he’s moving in these subtle little zig-zags, shaking his fingers side to side, making your legs shake from how fast they are. it’s like he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to get you off, without giving you too much too soon.

you whimper, your back arching even more as his other hand slides up your back, then gently wraps around your throat. and it’s not hard, not really, but just the feel of his fingers there makes your mind go blank, and you moan, “joshua, please.”

“please, what?” he whispers against your ear, and his voice is so soft, so sweet, but his fingers on your clit are ruthless, moving faster now, leaving you sensitive enough so you can feel every inch of him after. “you gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.”

you let out a desperate moan, pushing back against him, “i need you to fuck me, joshua.”

you can feel him tense up behind you, and he curses under his breath, hands moving quickly now, yanking your panties down. his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back as he fumbles with his belt, and you’re so on edge. the second you hear the metal clink of his belt hitting the floor, you’re already bracing yourself, because you can feel it—the way he’s lined up behind you, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing you, driving you insane.

he pushes in slow at first, but you can feel how fucking hard he is, stretching you open inch by inch, and it’s so much, so thick that you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. and joshua’s not saying anything, but his breathing’s ragged, and he lets out this low, drawn-out moan, like he’s trying to hold it in but can’t help himself.

“f-fuck,” he groans, his hips pushing in deeper until he’s fully inside you. he pauses there for a second, like he’s savoring the way you feel wrapped around him, and you hear this desperate little “ahh!” leave his lips, his head falling forward onto your shoulder.

and you? you’re clenching around him, your body so fucking desperate for more. you try to move, but his grip tightens on your hips, holding you still. “no— fuck, no” he mutters. “lemme just… ngh.. fuck, you feel so good.”

then he starts moving, almost like he’s teasing you, his hips rolling into you in these deep, measured thrusts. but it’s not enough—you need more, and you try to push back against him, but he’s got you locked in place, his hand still around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure that has you gasping.

“joshua, please, more. i n-eed more!” you beg, words sounding more like a whimper.

his grip on your throat tightens just a little, his fingers flexing as he starts thrusting harder, rougher, his cock slamming into you with this wet, filthy sound that has you both moaning. his hips snap into yours, relentless now, and he’s fucking you like he wants to be engraved on your mind.the polite, careful joshua you thought you knew is missing, replaced by someone who’s desperate to ruin you.

he leans forward, his lips right against your ear as he groans, “you like this, huh? you like how i fuck you? hm? can you feel how your pussy 's swallowing my cock?”

and you can’t even speak at this point, just a mess of moans and gasps, your hands gripping the counter so hard that your knuckles hurt. all you can do is nod, your body trembling with every hard thrust, your clit throbbing as his hips grind into you.

then his hand leaves your throat and slides down between your legs again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing those same zigzagging from earlier, but this time faster. your legs nearly buckle, a scream leaving your throat and you're sure he's going to have a problem with his dorm neighbours later, and he’s moaning in your ear now, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking tight, i’m not gonna last long.”

you’re shaking, so fucking close, and you can feel him getting sloppier, his thrusts losing rhythm. his fingers press harder against your clit, now moving in these frantic little circles that make your body explode with pleasure.

“cum for me,” he groans, his voice all breathy and wrecked. “c’mon, baby, i wanna feel you cum around my cock. wet me all over, come on…”

your orgasm hits you before you can even take another breath, your whole body contorting as you cry out, legs tremulous beneath you. you clench around him so tight, and joshua lets out this filthy moan—“oh fuck”—his hips slamming into you one last time before he’s spilling inside you, groaning loud as he rides out his orgasm.

he’s the first to move, pulling out slowly, nearly timidly, and you hear him mutter something under his breath—probably apologizing, because of course he is. you push yourself up from the counter, your legs still shaking, and turn to face him. his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, and there’s this sheepish, almost embarrassed look on his face, like he can’t believe what just happened.

he smiles, a little shy but still clearly proud of himself. and then, just like that, he’s back to being the joshua you know—sweet, considerate, polite—offering you a towel and asking if you’re thirsty again, like he didn’t just fuck you into oblivion against the counter.

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berfgrimm · 17 days ago

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staring at the sun | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x f!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, sneaking around, hair pulling, pet names, dirty talk, a smidge of self doubt sprinkled around.

note: this is my take on combining a few requests i got, because i got inspired from a couple of edits i saw on tiktok and listening to a tvotr song. i tried writing this a little differently than I normally write, and i had this vision of ‘deleted or extended scenes’ of certain moments described here, which is something i’ve never done before. maybe it’s silly, but if you guys like this then I’ll expand on those scenes and give you some more from this story’s universe. also don’t chat to me about this being pink hair era, it is my favorite so maybe I’ll be writing about it the most. so what. anyway, enjoy!

———————

The first time you kissed Seunghyun was an accident — well, maybe not an accident, because he intended to kiss you, but it certainly was unexpected. It was in the middle of one of the band’s performances when the boys stepped off the stage for a brief break in between songs, and as a stagehand, you were responsible for the hydration of Seunghyun that night. You waited for him at the stage exit, two bottles of water in your hands and a welcoming smile on your face.

When he walked towards you, there was a frenzied look in his eyes; not panicked, but more energized, wired from the show. As much as he likes to keep a stoic demeanor about him during most performances, you know he adores what he does. It brings him a joy that you seldom see in people, and it makes you both jealous and grateful that he’s able to feel such satisfaction — he deserves it.

Seunghyun had a determined walk that night to go along with his intensity, like he couldn’t wait to get off of the stage because he had to do something. You held the bottles towards him as he neared, smiling still. He stopped too close to you, that was the first thing you noticed. You didn’t have a problem with him being in your personal space, not in the general sense of the word anyway. It was more of a disadvantage, maybe a hindrance — you couldn’t operate at 100% with him that close.

It would happen each time Seunghyun even brushed you as he tried to walk by, or when he gave you the friendliest of touches. Your skin would flush, your breath would catch in your throat, and you’d find it hard to even speak. That night was no different, if possible, it was even worse. Not only was he standing in your space, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, he was so close.

“How is it?” he asked, taking a water from your grasp and twisting the cap off. He threw his head back to take a large glug of water; you couldn’t help but fixate on the sweat on his skin, and his throat as he swallowed. Your mouth went dry at the sight. “Well?” You hadn’t realized he was finished with the bottle and was focused on you again, a faint grin on his lips. You couldn’t answer him, your words were caught in your throat and the more he stared at you, the worse it got.

That’s when he leaned towards you, stooping just enough to dip his head closer. The moment felt almost cinematic. The buzz from the fans that still cheered on the other side of the curtain, the bright lights that shone from every direction, the way he paused just before his lips met yours. When you let out a shuddered breath and leaned closer to him, Seunghyun took the hint, and closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft and quick, just a peck, before he pulled back to look into your eyes. You don’t remember what face you made in response, but it was enough for Seunghyun to place his hand on your hip, gently pushing you backwards until your back hit a wall. You were out of view of anyone who would have walked by, secluded yet surrounded by thousands of people. This time when he kissed you, he was pressed against you harder, more intensely.

He didn’t kiss you like he was frantic, or he needed it, but instead like he was curious, almost scientific. He admitted later that he was nervous but you didn’t get that sense at the time. He didn’t even act like he enjoyed it, and before you knew it, the kiss was done and he was needed back on stage. He took the other water bottle from your hand and was gone before you uttered a word. You were confused to say the least.

Seunghyun didn’t talk to you about it afterwards. The band had another show the following night, and when you stood in the same spot, two more bottles in your hands, you were nervous. As he walked in your direction, you were certain you’d pass out from the way your heart pounded in your chest, but thankfully, your feet were firmly planted.

This time, when he reached you, Seunghyun once again drank a whole bottle of water before planting another kiss on your lips. Since it was a different venue than the night before, the secluded space you shared was no longer an option. Instead, he backed you against a stack of trunks, one hand on your hip to pin you in place.

In the moment, you weren’t sure if it was some sort of fantasy that your brain was making you believe was reality. There’s no way that this highly sought after man would be kissing you in private during his shows. It didn’t make sense. But the kiss was different this time, as he slipped his tongue into your mouth to deepen it briefly. Before you could fully enjoy the kiss, it was over again, and he left you standing alone in seclusion.

That was the start of a tradition. Each night, during their very brief intermission, Seunghyun would meet you backstage and hide behind anything nearby so you could kiss. It was sneaky and clandestine, and it gave you a knot in your stomach each time.

It took you until the fifth night for you to put your hands on him — both hands set simply on his hips; until then, you’d stayed still, too worried that if you tried to touch him, it would spoil the moment. Seunghyun told you later that he felt the same way, overthinking the moments and thinking that if he touched you too much or said anything about it, you wouldn’t want to kiss him anymore.

By the eighth night of kissing in secret, you felt something switch inside of you, and when you put your hands on his hips, you slid them up his body, feeling the heat of his skin under his sweat soaked shirt. You vividly recall the way you could feel his heart pounding as you pressed your hands flat against his chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

That night, when Seunghyun pulled away from you, that same switch inside of you drove you to grab his belt buckle and pull him in for one last quick kiss. As your lips were connecting, you could see a very small amused smirk on Seunghyun’s lips — at least he wasn’t mad.

Two weeks of kissing and gentle, explorative touching backstage at concerts. Away from your secret rendezvous, you had initially not treated each other any differently; friendly, joking, cordial. But at the end of week two, you started to notice the looks Seunghyun would give you when no one else was looking, along with the way he seemed to linger in your personal space. That made you more nervous than the kissing did.

“Why do you stare at me when the guys aren’t looking?” you asked him one night while he was kissing you. It made him stop altogether, peering into your eyes breathlessly. You were momentarily worried that you’d spoiled it by asking, as neither of you spoke during these moments before. It took him a few seconds of thought before he could answer, during which your eyes didn’t leave his face.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he admitted. “I think about it whenever you’re around. Sometimes when you’re not.” You blushed, not expecting the softness and candor in his response. “This is my favorite part of each night,” he added.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked. Seunghyun nodded, staring directly at your mouth as he waited for you to continue. “I really like doing this in secret,” you began, feeling your nerves spread through your whole body. “It’s sexy.”

You’d never forget the glint in his eyes when you said it, excited and something almost devious. You wished you could have a picture of the way he looked at you, but it ingrained itself in your memory anyway. He looked like he was overcome with desire, for you.

The signal for him to return to stage came far too soon after that. He didn’t get to truly respond to what you had said, but he told you later that it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. You agreed with him, remembering the way that you trembled with excitement at what could come of the conversation.

The next night of the tour something changed. It wasn’t ideal to say the least. One of the other stagehands said they wanted to switch positions, and of course, your manager agreed to the change. You didn’t have time to tell Seunghyun of the change ahead of time, but you still tried to make yourself visible when he exited the stage.

The obvious look of disappointment and confusion on his face would have been funny if you didn’t feel the same way. He had glanced beyond the other stagehand to where you stood, mindlessly rolling up some cables, staring directly at him. He changed the look on his face quickly, shifting back to the stoic persona he usually presented, and acted as though nothing was wrong.

Later that night, after the show ended, you wandered through the corridors of the venue, making sure all of the leftover equipment had been gathered. You were so focused on the task, you didn’t hear Seunghyun sneaking up behind you, so you let out a surprised yelp when he grabbed you and pulled you into a nearby utility closet.

It was pitch black in the room, but you could tell it was him. His breathing, his smell, his energy, it was all around you and as you felt the warmth of his body closing in on you, all you could do was throw your arms around his neck to pull him in.

It was the first time he touched you. Like really touched you. You didn’t miss the slight tremble in his hand as it slid up your stomach, stopping just as his fingertips touched your breast. His hesitancy to not cross a line is what made you feel empowered; you took hold of his hand that barely teased your breast and dragged just a little higher to press his palm against you. He took the hint and wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing gently.

“I hated not being able to kiss you earlier,” he admitted, kissing your cheek as he held you close.

“I got reassigned.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

The way Seunghyun said it, without a single shred of uncertainty, because he knew whatever he would say to the team would happen…the power that he had…

You kissed him again, so worked up with excitement, you bit his lip. Not too hard, but enough to make him chuckle into your mouth. You didn't realize right away, not until he let out a moan, but your hand had worked its way down to touch him through his pants. You worried for a moment that you crossed a line but he was already getting hard before you touched him.

“Is this how you want our first time to be?” Seunghyun asked, kissing your neck as he ground himself against your hand. “In a utility closet? In the dark?”

“You can have me wherever you want me.”

“But you love the secrecy,” he teased. “You love hiding but you love the thought of being caught. You love being my secret, don’t you, princess?”

“I do,” you admitted. Seunghyun let out a soft gasp, a little rumble of that deep voice, as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, gently. “But we don’t have time to do this here.” You were disappointed, of course, but you knew he was right. You had a job to do and it would be suspicious for him to be missing for too long. “We have two days off of the tour next week,” he continued. “In Melbourne. We’ll get a hotel.”

“Okay,” you replied, breathless from excitement.

“I’ll make sure you’re back in your regular assignment, as well,” he added. “I won’t be able to handle not kissing you for a week. I love being able to see you like that every night.”

You’d never expected Seunghyun to be so open to admit what could be perceived as weakness. He always came across very closed off, and protective of his emotions around most people apart from his fellow bandmates — even then, he didn’t seem quite as open.

The next several days seemed to drag on forever as you waited to have alone time with Seunghyun. Still, you had your stolen glances and private make out sessions every night, each kiss more desperate than the last, hands moving heavier with more determination.

The last show before the two day break, Seunghyun unbuttoned your jeans and began to slide his hand into your panties. You tensed, and he froze, panic spreading across his face, thinking he crossed a line. You stared into each other’s eyes and his hand stayed just barely past the elastic of your panties, unsure of what to do. You nodded slowly to give him permission to continue, and then you lowered your gaze to watch between your bodies as his hand traveled deeper into your panties.

You could recall that first sensation when his fingers, surprisingly cold, gently touched your folds. He didn’t tease you, no, there wasn’t enough time and you were so close to your hotel date so he wouldn’t do it just yet. Instead he made sure his fingers were wet with your juices before he pulled back, sliding his fingers into his mouth as he kept his gaze on you.

You worried you’d faint from the sight of him savoring your taste, but he gave you a wink, and headed back to the stage before you had the opportunity to even respond. Seunghyun told you later that he could taste you on his lips and tongue for the rest of the show, and that he had to focus not to get hard in front of everyone. You told him that you could feel his cold, soft fingers touching you for the rest of the night, and that you would let him fuck you on stage if that was what he wanted to do. He blushed but you could tell he definitely envisioned it.

You weren’t sure what to expect when it came to being alone in a hotel with Seunghyun, so your mind came up with hundreds of different scenarios that could potentially play out. During your secret rendezvous with him, he was tender for the most part, with the occasional moment of audacity like when he touched you between your thighs.

The first time you had sex with Seunghyun was gentle, the kind of thing you feel like you’d read in a romance novel. There wasn’t a lot of talking apart from the occasional soft whispers of encouragement from him, but your head was too foggy for you to even think of anything else to do except breathe and whimper. You would have been embarrassed by how composed he was compared to you, but you knew he wouldn’t want you to think that way.

You stayed tangled together in bed for what felt like hours after, telling stories of your lives and dreams for the future. As you listened to him open up to you, telling you about all of his hopes and dreams and demons, all you wanted was to kiss him and hold him for the rest of your life. But maybe that wasn’t what he wanted from you.

“Is this it?” you asked him, trying to make your voice stronger than you felt. “After today, are we back to the way things were?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, not at all,” you said, earnestly.

“Neither do I.”

Things changed from that moment onward, the start of your relationship with Seunghyun. You both agreed that it would be best to keep it between the two of you as long as you could, not ready to deal with the attention of his fans or his bandmates. Beyond that, sneaking around was still so fucking hot.

Once, Taeyang almost caught you. The group had a performance at an award show in Japan that your team wasn't required for. After several days of rehearsals and fittings during which you spent no time together, you finally found a brief moment, maybe ten minutes of time, where Seunghyun wasn’t being pulled in a million different directions. He gave you a quick nod towards the bathrooms, and you knew what he was suggesting.

It was an individual bathroom, no stalls. You snuck inside first, staying at the far side of the room to wait for him to join you. Only a few minutes went by before he finally entered the room, hurriedly locking the door and moving towards you.

“I missed you,” he breathed, crashing his lips into yours for a kiss that he clearly had been waiting too long for. You grabbed his hips and pulled him against you, longing to feel his body again. “Being around you and not being able to touch you like I want to,” he began, kissing along your neck. “Drives me crazy. I don’t know how I’ll manage the next few days not being able to see you.”

You slid your hand to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his short hair, to guide him to a spot on your neck that you love when he kisses. His hands grabbed your sides hard, pinning you to the wall and keeping you in place to grind himself against you.

“Don’t get too worked up,” you warned. “We won’t have time for me to get you off, baby. And I’ve been wanting it so bad, I’ve been dreaming about it. You can’t leave me hungry for you like that.” Seunghyun bit your neck, sucking harder on your skin, clearly trying to leave a mark. “Are you trying to claim me?” you asked, tugging on his hair to get a groan from him. “You want them to see that I already belong to someone?”

“I want you to remember it,” he muttered against your skin. “When I can’t be with you in the next few days, I want you to look in the mirror and see this mark so you’ll remember the way that only I know how to make you feel.”

That was the first time he showed his possessive side, and you were elated. You wanted to return the favor, maybe scratch up his back or his chest to give him something to think about while you weren’t near him but you worried that would be the fastest way to get caught. Sure, Seunghyun seldom showed much skin to anyone, but you knew that his friends enjoyed teasing and pranking one another, which has previously included sneaking pictures of one another while in compromising situations — like in the shower.

The knock on the bathroom door scared you both, and Taeyang’s voice made you even more terrified. All you could do was stare at one another with panic in your eyes.

“Hey, man, we have to leave soon for the next fitting,” Tae called out, knocking again. “Then to the airport for the flight.”

“Okay,” Seunghyun replied, hoping it would be sufficient.

“Are you alright?” came Tae’s response, and she shook the door handle as if he wanted to get in the room. “You sound odd.”

“Be out in a minute.” Seunghyun sounded as irritated as he looked, but thankfully, Tae took the hint and you heard his footsteps retreating. Seunghyun put his hands on the wall on either side of you, looking at you, discouraged. “Text me every time you think of me,” he said. “Especially if it’s dirty.”

“That will be a lot of messages,” you admitted, which made him grin.

“You think about me that much?” he inquired and you nodded, transfixed on his mouth. “Good. Give me details, so I know what my girl daydreams of me doing to her. I’ll miss you.” You make sure to give him another kiss, knowing you won’t see him for several days. “Stay here for a minute after I leave,” he directed. “I’ll make sure no one is around.”

Seunghyun exited first, casually to not draw attention. You counted to thirty before you made your exit, thankfully no one was in sight to be any the wiser.

You sent him fifteen texts that day, which was showing a tremendous amount of restraint compared to how frequently you actually thought of him. Your mind was almost entirely on him from the moment he left your side: sweet thoughts of how you’d love to hold his hand and walk through a market together, tender thoughts of kissing endlessly in his bed, filthy thoughts that you refused to elaborate on via text message but you made sure he knew you needed him in every imaginable way.

That night was the first time you had phone sex with Seunghyun. You couldn’t make it twenty four hours without each other. The sound of Seunghyun trying to keep his moans to a reasonable volume to not get caught by his bandmates in the next room was something you’d think about forever; you wished you could record the sound in your mind and play it whenever you wanted. The slightly static and muffled distortion of his voice coming through the phone somehow made his voice deeper, and when he told you what he would have done to you if you were there with him that night, you switched to a video call so he could watch you touch yourself.

You slowly found out about each other’s kinks. He liked watching you touch yourself because if anyone knew what you liked the most, it would be you. He also liked being called ‘baby’, and having his hair pulled. You told him you liked being more submissive, and you especially enjoyed dirty talk. He said he liked lingerie, the lacy kind, and he ended up buying you three different sets to wear for him. Though you were most nervous to admit this one, and you tried to avoid it altogether, you told him the contact lenses and costume for ‘Bae Bae’ were sexy.

“I’ll wear them for you one day,” he promised. “But you’d better be a dirty girl for me if I do, princess.” You tried to hide your excitement and embarrassment, but Seunghyun saw it immediately. “I love when you get shy,” he smirked, stealing a gentle kiss.

“I love everything you do,” you responded.

The first time you both actually said ‘I love you’ was during one of the intermissions about two months after you started your relationship. You both admitted later that you felt it much earlier on than that, but didn’t want to pressure the other.

Seunghyun said it first. The roles were slightly reversed from usual, as he was the one pressed back against the wall with your hands touching his body over his shirt. Your mouth was leaving a wet trail of kisses along his sharp jawline, tasting the sweat on his skin. His hands were on your backside, pulling you against him hard, letting you work your magic on him.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss below your ear then resting his head against yours. You stopped kissing his neck, staying in place, breathing slowly as you let the words sink in. “Is that okay?” he questioned, his hands shifting to your hips now, rubbing soothingly.

“More than okay,” you whispered, nudging your head against his gently. “I love you, too.”

Seunghyun let out a small, excited yell in response to your words, roughly wrapping his arms around you and spinning you both in a circle. You laughed along with him holding on tight as he got out his excited response.

“I knew it, princess. You can’t get enough of me.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” you retorted, playfully shoving him against the wall again and standing in front of him, both of your hands pressed to his chest. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” you whispered, wistfully.

Seunghyun gave you one last passionate kiss before he had to go back onto the stage. He told you later he felt like it was the best performance he ever gave because he couldn’t stop thinking about how much love was in your eyes when you looked at him.

When Jiyong almost caught you, it was enough to cause you and Seunghyun to have a conversation about the future of your relationship. It was after a show, when Daesung asked you to join the guys and a few others to go to a club. Ordinarily, you would have refused as you didn’t spend a lot of time clubbing, but when you glanced past Daesung towards Seunghyun, you noticed the hopeful look on his face — so you agreed. Maybe the night would give you an opportunity to dance with Seunghyun.

What you hadn’t thought of, however, was what happened a couple of hours before, during your intermission make out session. You decided to tempt Seunghyun, just a little bit, and you wore a skirt. You knew immediately that it worked, because his hands were under your skirt, groping your thighs, as soon as his body touched yours.

The issue was that you had slipped your panties off and handed them to him just before he went back on stage; hot pink panties from a set he had bought. You could see the surprise on his face initially, but his expression changed to something different, more intense. He shoved the clothing into the pocket of his jacket, swooping back towards you for another kiss before he went back to the stage. He told you later that it was one of the sexiest things you ever did, and that he tried to think of a way to do something similar for you, but he didn’t think handing you his briefs would have the same impact.

Fast forward to the club, when Seunghyun took his jacket off and draped it over his seat, only to have your panties fall from his pocket to the floor. Neither of you noticed it until Jiyong spoke.

“Lose something?” he laughed.

“Huh?” Seunghyun asked, prompting Jiyong to point to the clothing on the floor. Your heart leapt to your throat and you were thankful that the lights were low in the club so no one could see the look of shock and embarrassment on your face.

“Pink to match your hair, is that it?” Jiyong teases, taking a sip of his drink. Seunghyun scooped the panties up from the ground, stuffing them into the pocket of his pants this time.

“Caught them on stage,” he explained casually, sitting down again.

“And you decided to carry them with you after you changed clothes,” Jiyong continued, a smirk on his lips as he watched Seunghyun for any signs of deception.

“You don’t have to act so jealous because you didn’t catch any,” Seunghyun responded, a sly smirk on his lips. Jiyong laughed at his friend’s response.

“That’s a shame — I thought you’d finally found someone willing to put up with all of your quirks.” Seunghyun didn’t need to respond, and he told you later that if he didn’t relent when he did, Jiyong would have kept pushing until he figured out your secret.

The best moment of the night was dancing with Seunghyun. Even when you were just friends, you didn’t share a dance together, so you weren’t aware of how good it felt to slow dance and grind with him. To make sure no suspicions were raised, you danced with the others as well, and even though Seunghyun agreed it would be a good idea, you could tell he hated to watch it happen.

Later that night, Seunghyun sent you a video of him, a little tipsy from the drinks that night, and a little frustrated from the lack of time spent with you. He spoke deeper than normal, trying to avoid being heard by anyone through the walls.

“I didn’t like their hands on you,” he muttered. “Touching you like they had the right. It makes me crazy not being able to touch you when I want, princess.” He sounded needy in a way you hadn’t heard from him before, and it made you wish he was with you in your room right then.

It wasn’t until the next day that you had a few moments to spare together where Seunghyun asked you if you were serious about him. You were frustrated with the question at first until you realized why he was asking: you two were getting closer to being caught, and he wanted to save you from the relentless teasing and jokes you’d be subjected to once the others found out. You told him you didn’t care and you loved him, so that was all that mattered. You’d enjoy sneaking around while you still could.

The first time you played a prank on him wasn’t your choice. Daesung and Jiyong talked you into it, because they knew that Seunghyun would expect strange behavior from them during a prank war. You were an objective third party as far as they knew, and you thought going along with their plan would be the best way to keep the heat off of you.

You didn’t think it was a great idea because you knew how much Seunghyun didn’t enjoy showing off his body, but Daesung convinced you to steal Seunghyun’s clothes while he was in the shower. You agreed, and before you knew it, you found yourself sneaking into the shower room in search of his clothes. Until he caught you, all of his clothes bunched up in your hands while he stood opposite you with a towel around his waist.

“You turned on me, princess?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips. “You joined their team?”

“It’s just…for fun,” you explained, cheeks flushing.

“Are you blushing because you’ve been caught or because you want me to drop the towel?” He stalked towards you, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run away or run closer. “Both?” he smirked.

“Maybe a little,” you mumbled.

“Take the clothes,” he nodded, finally in front of you. “I’ll make a big scene about it, don’t worry. But tonight, I want you to come by my hotel room, and you can pay me back.” He stole a quick kiss from you before gently shoving you in the direction of the exit.

You both acted perfectly together, convincing the other guys that you had pranked him. They laughed uncontrollably as Seunghyun cursed them for talking you into a stupid prank war. After you finally relented and returned his clothes, he spared a quick glance to the others to make sure they weren’t looking when he whispered in your ear.

“My room later,” he said. “You owe me.”

He got you off four times that night before he let you relax. It was a new record for both of you.

The next day was the first time one of the guys suggested Seunghyun ask you out. You weren’t around when it happened, working elsewhere in the arena setting up for the rehearsal, but Seunghyun was practically giddy when he told you later.

From Seunghyun’s retelling of the conversation, Tae was the first to bring it up, mentioning that he could see a spark between the two of you at the club. Jiyong agreed but Daesung mentioned that he felt he had more of a chance with you than Seunghyun did.

“Dae would be my second choice,” you joked with Seunghyun, and thankfully, he laughed in response.

According to Seunghyun, he played the whole thing as casually as possible. At first he denied that there was any sort of spark between you, and then he allowed his friends to make him see it. Still, he shrugged it off, saying he didn’t have time for a relationship. By the end of the conversation, he seemingly dissuaded them of the notion altogether.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell them,” he admitted. “It’s fun sneaking around, and I’m happy being private. Besides, that’s one step closer to the rest of the world finding out. I don’t want you to face them until you’re ready.”

It was sweet how he wanted to protect you, but you felt in a certain part of your mind that maybe he wasn’t ready to tell the world because he wasn’t proud of you. It was a silly notion, and you knew from the way he looked at you that he would do anything for you, just as you would for him. Still, you couldn’t help but hear that small whisper of doubt if you thought too hard about your relationship.

The whisper got softer, and eight months into your still secret relationship with Seunghyun, you couldn’t hear it at all anymore. The tour had ended and you were able to spend more time together without as much worry of being caught. You spent most of your days in his apartment, sometimes yours, watching movies together or staying in bed. You were sometimes treated to the sight of Seunghyun at his desk, writing new music; you think those were your favorite days.

It all brings you to this moment right now. You’re tangled up in the sheets of Seunghyun’s bed, on your back with your hips at the edge, while he’s knelt on the floor with his head between your legs. He has your thighs spread wide for him, pinned down against the bed so he can get at you without issue.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, fisting his hair to hold him in place where he sucks on your clit. “That feels so good, please don’t stop.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, and you’re sure you can feel him smirking. He thrusts his fingers into you faster, sensing that you’re close from the way you’re squeezing and grinding against him. “Good girl,” he breathed into you. “Come for me, baby.”

Every time Seunghyun makes you come, it feels better than the last. Your body trembles and you moan out his name so much and so hard, you feel like you’ll lose your voice. This time is no different, and you ride out each and every wave of your orgasm, then dropping back into the sheets, panting.

“I’ll never get tired of the way that sounds,” Seunghyun says, licking the taste of you from his lips and fingers. “You, calling my name, breathing like you’re desperate for air. You’re so beautiful.” You reach towards him, cupping his face with both hands and urging him closer to you. He grins up at you, climbing on top of you on the bed to kiss you passionately.

You’re both so lost in the feeling of one another you don’t hear the front door of the apartment open, and you didn’t hear your friends talking idly while they changed their shoes in the entryway. If you had overheard them, you would have had more time to cover yourselves up or even hide before they entered the bedroom.

“Oh, damn!” Jiyong exclaims, laughing. “I’m sorry!” He covers his eyes and turns from the doorway, but is quickly joined by his two other bandmates who are hurrying to peer into the room.

“No way!” Daesung laughs.

“I knew it,” Tae laughs.

“Fucking go!” Seunghyun yells, pointing at them with one hand as he tries to help you cover yourself with a sheet. “Have some respect!” The other three men almost fall over one another as they scramble from the room, still in a fit of excited laughter. “I’m so sorry,” Seunghyun says, softly, as he turns to check on you. “Are you okay? I didn’t know they were coming over.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, your cheeks still flushed in embarrassment. “I guess the truth is out now.”

“So much for privacy,” he chuckles, grasping your jaw tenderly and pulling you towards him for a kiss. “I’m sorry, princess. If you go get cleaned up, I’ll talk to those idiots, and try to calm them down before you come out there.”

“Okay,” you smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies. You smile, tossing the blanket from your body and moving to stand up from the bed. “Wait,” Seunghyun says, catching your hips, and pulling you to stand in front of where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not upset that they know. I’ll miss sneaking around because it was sexy…but at least we can be open about it. And we can start moving you in here tomorrow.”

“That’s how you ask me to move in with you?” you chuckle, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“You love it here,” he responds, one of his hands slipping between your thighs, touching your still wet and tender folds. “I‘ll be able to touch you anytime you want me to. And we both know…you always want me to touch you.”

“Mmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “Maybe. But I’m not going to let you finger me while your friends are in the other room.” Seunghyun laughs, removing his hand from between your legs and making sure you look at him before he slips his fingers into his mouth to clean them.

“Go clean up,” he commands, gesturing to the bathroom. “If I get them to leave before you’re out, I’m coming in there and fucking you in the shower.” You laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t make a promise that you don’t intend to keep.”

“Oh, you doubt me?” he laughs. “Now I’ll have them out of here in sixty seconds, so you’d better be in that shower waiting for me. Or else you’ll be in trouble.” You wish you could identify what it was about Seunghyun threatening you like this that set your inside alight with arousal, but you figure that’s an internal conversation for another time. “Go now,” he says, smacking you on your backside. “Be a good girl and listen to what I told you.”

As you enter the bathroom, you feel an excitement radiating through you unlike you’d felt before at the thought of being in a relationship with Seunghyun. Now that the truth is out, the possibilities are endless. And the likelihood of Seunghyun keeping his promise to meet you in the bathroom is now a certainty as he stands in the doorway, thirty seconds faster than he had predicted.

#choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #x reader

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celestiamour · 1 month ago

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Hej, czy mógłbyś stworzyć grę fem-reader x thanos (gra squid), w której oboje mają ten sam klimat i są najlepszymi przyjaciółmi z dzieciństwa, ale thanos zakochuje się w niej i w końcu mówi jej o tym w pierwszej grze??? (Jeśli uważasz, że to głupie, pomiń) Miłego dnia/nocy 😁🙏

ft. choi su-bong (thanos) x gn! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ childhood best friend! reader┊0.6k words

contains: thanos is his own warning, mentions of bullying, canon-typical violence, drug use, love confessions, they have the same energy, this sucks I'm so sorry

➤ author's note: i forgot how to write!! please be patient with me!! (i hope i translated this right)

╰₊✧ let’s get one thing straight, you probably teamed up to steal lunch money from other kids and maybe even pushed them into lockers afterward: a troublesome duo who ended up in the principal’s office more than once and had to be seated far away from each other or else the entire classroom would erupt into chaos. your parents told both of you to stay away from the other as they were a terrible influence, but it just had you guys sneaking out in the middle of the night to hang out at a nearby park.

╰₊✧ that’s when he realizes you’re his first love probably, pushing you on the swing set at two in the morning with nothing but a dim street light to light up the night, barely in high school and yet determined to make you his. unfortunately, while he’s trying to figure out how to tell you or figure out how you feel about him so as not to ruin the friendship, you tragically move away for some reason and leave him broken-hearted.

╰₊✧ he wrote his first rap about this experience, and it touched hearts all around the world, probably launched his career, and remains in his top ten most streamed songs.

╰₊✧ alright, now to the games, the second he laid eyes on you, it was like all the young love buried from years ago hit him like a ton of bricks. he audibly gasped as if he had just run into the queen of england, even making his fans turn their heads, jogging up to you to see if you remembered him. he’s so excited, he almost trips on his way over.

╰₊✧ on your end, you remembered him obviously, he’s made quite a name for himself and you’ve seen clips of his music videos/performances which you look into every now and then out of curiosity. you would be lying if you said he wasn’t even more handsome than the screens do him justice, his brightly-colored purple hair seemed to suit him so well and he’s grown so tall. you’re also pleased to see that little has changed about his attitude, still the same old su-bong you remember him to be.

╰₊✧ you two are probably near each other when the true nature of the game is revealed, and he offers you one of the colorful pills hidden in his cross necklace which you smack him for getting into drugs, but you can’t say you’re surprised. he becomes so carefree afterward that he blatantly pushes three other people over and watches them get shot for the fun of it, but he also does the contradictory action of hiding you behind him to make sure you don’t get shot.

╰₊✧ the smile that splits his face when he hears you laughing and going along with his antics is worthy of being photographed when it hits him that this experience would be much like the times you both shared as kids. he finally reunited with his childhood best friend, and he’s going to make the most of the time you have together— death games be damned!

╰₊✧ keeps you close throughout the voting process and confesses his love once he sees you press the blue button. the amount of time you both have left is uncertain, but if you both help each other out and make it out alive, then the leftover money will go to the future he dreamed of having with you. he doesn’t care if it seems unrealistic or too ideal, he’s thanos and nothing was ever impossible for him.

╰₊✧ of course, you say yes and become a force to be reckoned with!

#📜. her works #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos #thanos x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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bookshelf-dust · 2 months ago

Text

change my mind

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

gif by @emziess

word count: 1,876

warnings: swearing, sugar is still pregnant for the sake of this fic, some playful shouting/sibling behavior, clingy and petty carmy, smooching, barely proofread cuz i’m lazy lol

synopsis: carmy takes it personally when you tell him he has separation anxiety. he just wants you to stay with him all the time. since when is that a problem?

a/n: yes, this is absolutely a fic inspired by and named after a one direction song. i’m healing my inner child and this song just never, ever gets old, lemme’ tell you. with my winter break getting closer, i desperately need some clingy carmy.

————

“Natalie!” You practically screech, embracing the woman, arms strong around her shoulders but going easy with how close you bring yourself to her growing belly. She smiles and laughs into your hair. You both sway back and forth, secretly thinking how good it is to be in another sane person's presence.

Sugar says your name in the sweetest tone, the kind that, even though she’s hugging you, gives away the grin on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been dying to have some girl time, I swear.”

You both turn at the sound of the door slamming shut, as though someone has kicked it closed with their heel.

Carmy holds a tray of food up above yours and his sisters head. “Good to see you too, Sug. I’m okay with being chopped liver, it’s fine.”

You hear Pete’s voice from behind you. It echoes a little with the windows open, allowing the cool air to seep in. “It’s that girl bond, am I right?”

Natalie pulls away and covers her hand with her mouth. Carmy snorts, patting Pete on the back. “Yeah, man. Sure is.”

Then he makes eye contact with his sister. “You know, you could’ve just invited one of us, seeing as all I’m good for is dropping off food.”

Sugar’s socked feet pad across the floor, the squishy spheres of gel sticking and unsticking with each step she takes. Her arms come up around Carmen’s neck and she pulls him into a hug before smacking him on the head.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Nat gives him an extra squeeze and clears her throat, taking on her worst, but best, male voice. “What the fuck, dude? How could you hit me like that?”

He shoves her away, but you catch how gentle it is, considering she is carrying his niece. “I do not sound like that. And why are you wearing fuckin’ hospital socks around the house?”

“Pete suggested they’d be good while I’m pregnant since I’m so clumsy.”

“They’ve worked pretty well so far,” he chimes in, peeking into one of the trays of food you brought. You go over to him and open it fully, whispering that he can go ahead and eat, if he’s ready. To Pete, if you said it’s alright, it’s like nothing else can touch him.

“I can get you some, Bear,” you say. “All you gotta do is ask, they’re like a dollar at Walmart.”

“Okay, let’s just eat, alright?” He fusses, though there’s that telltale dimple appearing on his face. He drags a tense hand through his hair.

“Yes, chef.”

You’re in the first year of your masters program, and when you called Carmy a few weeks ago to tell him the dates for your fall break, you both decided you didn’t feel up to a stereotypical Thanksgiving this time around. Spending a day with Natalie and Pete seemed much more appealing than waiting for an inevitable panic attack from Carm and a full-on fight, political or not, from any given Berzatto or uncle on your mother’s side of the family.

You’ve spent the past three nights in Carmy’s apartment, but you’re heading back to campus tomorrow morning so that you can focus on submitting your finals and tying up any loose ends. You told him ahead of time that you only planned to stay for a few days, knowing yourself and knowing that the longer you let yourself stay, the harder it would be to head back and finish up the fall semester.

Besides, it would only be a bit longer until you could settle in with him for winter break.

Nevertheless, Carmy was grumpy. He was trying to hide it from you because of course your decision was logical, but he is a selfish man. If it was up to him, you’d stay with him every day of the year and let him treat you like a princess.

Each time you catch him frowning, you remind him that you’ll be coming home to him again in a matter of days. There’s a miniature whiteboard on his refrigerator that you found in the dollar section at Target. It was meant to hang on the wall, but you hot glued little circle magnets on the back four corners. Carmy laughs every time he sees it because he’s splashed something on the fridge door and needs to wipe it clean. You took the lone, failing dry-erase marker from the kitchen drawer and doodled a little calendar on it.

You drew two slightly uneven squares for your countdown. Currently each block has a number, but you know he’ll feel better when the left spot loses any number higher than 0.

All throughout dinner, Carmy’s hand is at the small of your back, your knee, your bicep, the nape of your neck, resting on your wrist so he can feel your pulse. Like he’s afraid you are about to slip out of his grasp, only to be swept away by the current and never seen again.

Sugar clears her throat, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear and wiping her mouth on a paper napkin. “Someone piss in your cornflakes, Carm?”

He blinks over at her, practically jumping at being noticed. You can see his fingertips glistening with sweat under the fluorescent dining room lights.

You have a forkful of pasta in your mouth, but you begin to chew with haste, shaking your head to try and redirect the conversation.

You swallow, “It was me, Nat.”

“What?” she asks, voice raising a tinge. “Are you guys having a fight or something? Oh god, should I have said I was sick tonight?”

Pete coughs, his cheeks red as he fights his body’s urge to choke on the food he’s shoving in his mouth to avoid anything slightly awkward.

The knees of Carmen’s jeans rub together when he sits back further in the dining chair, the sound of the denim, scratchy and rough, communicating his pouty demeanor as he crosses his arms.

“She’s leaving me,” he deadpans.

Forks clatter across plates. “What the fuck, Carm? Are you serious?” He laughs to himself because that vein is protruding from Natalie’s forehead. You elbow him in the ribs.

You exhale hard enough that Pete feels it on the other side of the table.

“I am not leaving him. He’s pitching a fit because I’m going back to campus tomorrow so that I can focus on finals.”

Natalie’s eyes swing back and forth between the two of you like she’s watching a tennis match.

“She thinks I’m a distraction,” Carmy says.

“No duh,” Sugar laughs. “You’re the ultimate distraction. Hell, you’re made of distractions, what with all that unmedicated ADHD.”

“No duh? What are we, five? Y-you think I’m incapable of supporting my girlfriend’s ambitions because I’m some deranged, like fucking—some koala bear?”

Sugar nods once, affirmatively.

“Yes.”

Carmy scoffs.

You throw back the rest of your wine and put out a hand like a cop directing traffic would. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s finish eating, okay? I’ll deal with Carmy’s separation anxiety later tonight.”

He looks at you like he’s been slapped, that crinkle between his brows forming, followed shortly by the appearance of his frown lines. “I do not have separatio—”

“Good garlic bread, huh?” Pete says, crunching loudly. “There fancy butter in this?”

————

“I can’t believe you think I have separation anxiety!”

“You do have separation anxiety, baby.”

Carmen shrugs off his coat and tosses it at the arm of the couch, but he misses and it slides right off. What a perfect metaphor for his life right now.

“Just because I’m sad that you’re leaving me?”

“I’m not leaving you, Bear. I’m going to campus so I can ensure I get all my shit done.”

“And you can’t do that here? You already told me you don’t have any in-person finals. You’re submitting everything online, so you don’t have to go back—not really. I must really be a bother, huh?”

He regrets it already, but his petty, pitiful brain quit thinking logically about half an hour ago.

“Carmen. Anthony. Berzatto.”

He winces. The day Sugar told you his middle name was his last day of peace. He’d had you half-convinced he just didn’t have one because he was the baby and Donna was tired of coming up with names.

You take his face in your hands, your grip on his cheeks much gentler than the look you’re giving him.

“Carmen. Listen to me, alright? When I’m here with you, I’m in a state of like, pure bliss. I don’t want to think about my assignments because you make me so content and happy, and you’re so stupidly cute that I just want to look at you all day and I know I won’t be productive because of it.”

Carmy’s eyes flash. His cheek twitches under your thumb where the muscles around his mouth are fighting an involuntary smile.

His gaze flickers down to your lips when you start grinning as you speak.

“I just want to do really well on my finals, Carm. I’ve worked so hard this semester, and I want to give it my all and finish strong, you know? It’s the fact that I have no self control and would have to pull myself away from you to get work done.”

Carmy blinks at you. “I promise I can keep from distracting you. I’ll even set you up a workspace and bring you lunch or somethin’. So you can do your shit and not be bothered. We could make Richie buy you coffee.”

You laugh.

“I’m serious,” Carmen continues. “I can be accommodating.”

You take your hands away from his face and step back, setting your fingers against your hips like that’s going to help you think better. He’s already winning you over, but you still want to do all the responsible things.

There’s a kind of humorous tension in the room.

Carmy is waiting for you to speak, and you’re trying to pretend like it’s a hard decision to make. If he’s serious about helping you stay focused, there’s no reason you couldn’t just go ahead and stay.

You inhale, just to make Carmy cringe and brace himself.

“Baby…if you say you want me to stay, I’ll change my mind.”

“I want you to stay!” Carmy blurts. “Please. I’ll get down on my fuckin’ knees if you really want me to. Stay. I promise I’ll keep out of your hair and help you be productive.”

You giggle, soft and slow, and it reaches Carmy’s ears, enchanting him like you’re made of some love potion, whatever ingredients you’d need for that sort of thing running through your veins.

“I’d already pretty much decided on staying right after we left Nat’s.”

Carmy swats you playfully on the hip. “Oh, fuck off! Maybe you should go back, if you’re gonna be so mean to me.” He turns to walk towards the kitchen, glancing at you over his shoulder.

You move quickly, launching yourself off the floor and landing on his back. He hoists you up, bursts of laughter leaving his throat.

“You love it when I’m mean to you,” you say, and you press a kiss to the side of his neck, all warm and sickly sweet.

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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madaqueue · 6 months ago

Text

PUSH AND PULL

something silent and intangible ties you to sukuna, and has for as long as you've known each other. but you can't help but wonder what would happen if you pull on that little red string of fate, bringing him closer than just friends.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au, best friends to ???. suggestive/smut. language, pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart), he calls you a slut but like as a joke, alcohol consumption, semi-public. 18+, MDNI (wc: 2.6k)

It was always just you and Sukuna, for as long as you could remember. Even as kids, the two of you found your home in the corner of the playground after he pushed someone off a swing you wanted to use; in highschool, you etched your names into the desks during some mundane class, landing both of you in detention. He wove his way into your life, and you into his, mending the frayed threads left behind by scissors and rough hands.

So of course neither of you ever dated - you didn’t need anybody else. Nobody would put up with (nor could handle) him and his moods. And you, well, nobody would dare get near you so long as you had him around.

To his credit, it took very little to scare any potential suitors off, oftentimes nothing more than a glare or a firm hand on their shoulder. And he seemed to understand that no one would ever quite compare to you, everyone else too boring, too bland, too pathetic to deserve his attention.

And so, you played along, this little game of pushing and testing and teasing and almost almost almost.

Yet, there was always something in the way, some invisible force keeping you from ever bridging the gap. “Just friends,” you both called it, a name for the insurmountable chasm between you. It was silent, unspoken, but always felt, a magnetic pull that kept you close but never allowed you to touch.

Tonight in particular, at this shitty house party of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, that pull feels almost tangible, lingering in the hazy air.

Music blares, flashing LEDs illuminating the thin layer of sweat covering both of your bodies. Every thump of the bass electrifies the air, your heartbeat vibrating in tune. Tattooed hands hold your hips firmly against his body, your ass pressed to his pelvis.

You love this song. He loves you loving it.

That smug grin plays across his face, shadows cast by the flickering party lights above making it appear far more sinister to someone who doesn’t know Sukuna. But to you, he’s perfectly content.

When the chorus hits, you bend at the waist, dropping forward and grinding against him. Always such a fucking tease, he thinks as a quiet laugh escapes his lips. His fingertips tighten their hold but he shows no other sign of his sinful desires (he was proud of his restraint, even after all these years).

Bending your knees, the pathetically thin material of your dress rides up just enough that a prouder man would feel obligated to look away. Sukuna, of course, just chuckles as you look over your shoulder.

“You look like a slut.” Bright white teeth shine through his grin.

“At least I can dance,” you retort, hips circling against the front of his jeans. “You look stiffer than a dead guy’s dick.”

Throwing his head back, a laugh overtakes him, seemingly louder than the shitty pop song playing through the speakers. Pink hair catches under the red lights, absolutely electrifying. “Jesus, I forgot how filthy that fuckin’ mouth of yours can get.”

Fully turning around, you press your chest against his, your dress doing little to hide the way your nipples harden at the mild friction. The now-empty cup in your hand dangles at your side as you stand on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m gonna go get another drink to wash out this ‘filthy fuckin’ mouth,’” you shout over the music.

Instead of verbally responding, Sukuna steps back, slapping your ass as you make your way to the kitchen.

You know, of course, that he wouldn’t let anyone else talk to him the way you do, and you, of course, wouldn’t dare let anyone touch you the way he does (and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either).

The kitchen is brighter than the surrounding chaos, your eyes blurry as they adjust. Finding your way to the stash of bottles, you pour yourself some combination of juice and liquor. The fake marble of the table is cold against your skin as you hop onto it, crossing your legs as the liquid hits your lips.

It’s certainly palatable, you shrug.

You bask in the muted silence for a moment before it’s broken by Sukuna’s loud footsteps marching towards you.

He always commanded attention so effortlessly, eyes turning to follow his path. At first you thought it was the visible tattoos lining his skin and notably unnatural hair, but over time you grew to wonder if there was something more innate, something living within his soul that evoked the unyielding focus from those around him.

Ruby eyes lock on yours (surely an effect of the colored LEDs still flashing nearby) as he glides in front of you. Your legs part, dangling over the edge of the countertop as he slots himself between them, arms encircling you.

Placing his palms onto the table behind your waist, the scent of whatever expensive cologne he probably stole this week hangs on his clothes as he leans closer.

“Thought I finally got rid of you when you didn’t come back.” His voice is gravelly, lips pulled into a leering smile.

“Maybe I just finally got sick of dancing with someone who only wants to paw at me,” you chuckle sarcastically. Lifting the cup to your mouth, you take another swig. “And you’re awfully close for someone who smells like shitty beer and sweat.”

“Oh really?”

Before you can respond, his lips are trailing up your neck, his nose pushing your hair to the side as he nuzzles into your skin.

His breath is hot, tickling your earlobe as he lowly whispers, “Well you smell lovely.”

On instinct your legs try to close around him, a desperate attempt to quell the ache growing between them. You hate his stupid fucking voice, his annoying flirting, how he always goes just a little too far pushing your buttons.

But he’s your friend.

(And that’s all you’ll ever be to him, too).

All you can do is chug your drink, hoping the alcohol dampens the racing pulse of your heart.

“Thanks, I actually pay for my perfume, unlike you, you fucking delinquent,” you manage to spit out.

Finally he pulls back, eyes locked on you. There’s an intensity behind them you can’t quite name, but one you’ve grown familiar with.

He’s playing with you.

A low hum vibrates from his throat in response, his gaze traveling down to your lips. “What’re you drinking?”

He changes the subject, as he always does when things threaten to get too serious, too real. Always running away, afraid to face the ever-insistent voice inside him that evokes a pause the moment before he hurls himself over the edge into desire.

You smirk. “Why don’t you try it?”

Bringing the cup to his face, it rests on his lower lip as you tilt it upwards, the saccharine liquid pouring down his throat. His eyes never leave yours as he swallows. A small trail dribbles down his chin while you place the empty plastic cup onto the counter beside you.

“Messy boy,” you coo, tone as falsely sweet as the drink lingering on his lips.

Grabbing his face, you pull him towards you, close enough you can make out the faint freckles decorating his cheeks. You collect the sugary liquor on your tongue as it travels along his skin, slightly rough from his freshly-shaved stubble. When you reach the corner of his mouth, you place a teasing peck before releasing your grasp.

“Someone should really teach you some manners, ‘Kuna.” And that devilish smile spreads across your face.

You see, you can play with him, too.

He stifles the giddy laugh building in his chest as he fixes his gaze back on you. “And someone should teach you how to make a drink, that shit was nasty.”

“You entitled brat,” you snap back, pushing him away with a hand against his chest. “I make excellent drinks, otherwise why else would you end up drunk on my couch every weekend, hm?”

“Maybe I just like the couch’s company,” he grins, dimples poking through the darkened lines spanning his face.

You’re both just staring at each other, waiting for something to happen, for someone to make a move. The air is electric, buzzing with that imperceptible desire.

Fuck it.

Just as you move to lean into him, a noise cuts through the static.

“Sukuna!” someone calls from the depths of the party.

His head whips around before shooting you an almost apologetic glance. “Guess someone else requires my attention.”

“Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting for everyone’s favorite asshole,” you mock. With a mirrored smack of his ass, you send him away into the chaos surrounding you.

In his absence, your head swirls, overwhelmed with the alcohol and the lights and the sudden heat in your core.

Just friends.

You’re just friends.

Taking in a steadying breath, your hands shake as you pour another drink.

But at what point does it stop being a game? When do you decide to stop playing?

With a sigh you knock it back in one gulp before wandering between the bodies crowding the space.

The rest of the party is all skin and noise. It’s fluid and blurry and utterly debaucherous, the way you throw your arms around your friends, the way your body moves with each increasingly loud and repetitive song.

By the time the next few hours have passed, your feet start to ache as you make your way from the swath of strangers crowding the makeshift DJ booth at the front of the house.

Stumbling towards the back, a familiar voice calls your name.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?”

Sukuna is sprawled across one of the stained couches lining the walls, an unfamiliar girl hanging on his side. Her hands rest across his chest as her eyes cover you disapprovingly, nails digging into his shirt when you refuse to give her an ounce of attention.

“Lookin’ for somewhere to sit down,” you sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Got a free seat right here,” he smirks, patting his thigh. This fucker.

An angry glare forms along the girl’s face as she stares at you with a displeased grunt. Crossing your arms, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I would, but I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything.”

Sukuna never even turns towards the girl who now traces her fingertips down his chest. “Nothin’ to interrupt here, baby.”

Exchanging a quick glance at the increasingly unhappy stranger lounged across him, she lets out an annoyed scoff as she rolls her eyes, finally removing herself from Sukuna. Brushing past you, she tries to shove into your shoulder before she misses, tumbling forward and back onto the dance floor.

You can’t help but giggle at the failed show of dominance, your eyes now finding their way back to Sukuna. He pats his thighs again expectantly, eyebrows quirking as he awaits your response.

He’s fucking with you, of course.

But before you know it, you’re standing between his legs. With a small sigh, you seat yourself on his lap, bare legs straddling him. A whisper of mischief dances behind his eyes while his hands make their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“See? Isn’t this much more comfortable?” he taunts.

Heat builds in your core at how low his voice is, the rumbling of thunder just before a storm.

“Mmm,” you hum, letting your dissatisfaction show as you click your tongue. Wrapping your arms easily around his neck, your fingertips absentmindedly trace the lines of his tattoos to where they end at the neckline of his t-shirt. “It’s a bit better, but something’s still missing.”

“Oh yeah?” When he smiles, the lines adorning his skin crease invitingly. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but grin silently. Because you can fuck with him, too.

Rolling your hips forward, your clothed pussy drags along the outline of his cock. The firm denim of his jeans provides just enough friction to have you stifling a moan. He inhales sharply through his nose, the soft sound cutting through the static noise surrounding you.

“Isn’t that better?” you coo teasingly as his fingertips dig into your waist.

A choked groan leaves his throat, his inability to let you have the upperhand fighting against the sudden desire to pin you down on this shitty couch and fuck you right here. Attempting to shake the thought off, his head falls forward into your neck.

Of course he’s thought about you like that before - you’re gorgeous, fucking hilarious, and somehow just as stubborn as he is. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

But some small part of him worries that the moment he pushes you too far, you’ll run, just like everyone else in his life. He was always too intense, too angry, too much. But not to you - you seemed to love him in spite of it, maybe even because of it.

Maybe that’s why he lets himself play this eternal game of cat and mouse, the push and pull.

But fuck, right now he wants to pull.

He wants to pull you against him, dragging you along the length of his hardening cock through his boxers. He wants to pull you up and down as he fucks into you, feeling your warm walls meld around him. He wants to pull your lips apart with his, tasting how sweet you are, whispering things he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else. Anyone but you.

The words feel heavy on the tip of his tongue. I want you. I want you. I want you. They’re too weighted, he worries. Instead, he settles for biting at your neck, hoping that your skin between his teeth will be enough to satiate his body’s need.

“S-shit,” you stammer at the sensations of his canines digging into your flesh. “Acting like a fuckin’ teething puppy, hm? Need someone to train some manners into you? Or do you want me to tell you to sit, stay, tell you you’re doing a good job?”

And he does. But of course, he’d never tell you that.

Instead, he bites harder, leaving dark bruises in his wake, a reminder of his mark on you.

As his lips trace up your neck, he pauses to nibble along your earlobe. “Just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, his breath hot. “Wouldn’t want anyone taking what’s mine.”

You nearly whimper at the words - his? - but you manage to hold back, instead letting your neediness out with another circle of your hips. He hopes you miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the movement.

“Oh? I’m yours now?” you tease, silently pleading he doesn’t notice the lingering waver in your voice. “Quite possessive, don’t you think, ‘Kuna?”

You feel him chuckle more than you hear it, the warm puffs of air gently blowing against your hair. “I’m only possessive of things I want,” he growls. God, you always loved that rasp in his voice, like a gravel road lining the way home.

At this point, you’re sure your panties are soaked through, the tip of his cock dragging along your clit through them. You’ve never gone this far with him before, never been so bold, so desperate.

And he fucking loves it.

“And what do you want?” Your voice is airy, breathless, as your pace seems to pick up. You’re grateful for the dim LEDs flashing distantly from the depths of the party for hiding the blush undoubtedly dusting your cheeks.

Trailing wet kisses along your jawline, his mouth comes to rest just in front of you. His lips are soft, barely brushing against yours, a few millimeters apart. So close. So fucking close.

“I think it’s rather obvious.” His breath smells like liquor and desire as he whispers, “I want you.”

a/n: getting out of my writing slump by going back to my roots (wanting to fuck sukuna)

#q writes #oneshot #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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twinkling-moonlillie · 4 months ago

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Hawks Headcanons

A/N: I am currently obsessed with Hawks (if you couldn't tell) and writing for him is fun. I made these headcanons while procrastinating on my midterm paper a few days ago-

Warnings: Some NSFW content; MDNI. Some angst too

Starting things off with an angsty bang, Hawks has a bad habit of plucking his feathers when he is stressed out. It’s never too often and it’s never to a critical extent, but it does occur. Birds often do this as a form of coping with negative feelings, so perhaps he does this after a brutal mission.

Like many other people, I firmly believe that Keigo has a thing for shiny or interesting looking objects. Again, it’s not to an obsessive extent, but he does have a good eye for pretty trinkets. Especially ones he thinks will look good on you.

I don’t think Hawks is a good cook. There, I said it. This man barely has time for himself, do you really think he has time to devote to cooking? Do you really think that the Commission taught him to cook? Fuck no. He sticks to quick take out purely out of necessity.

They say that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and this is absolutely true with Keigo. He would love the little lunches and dinners you make for him while he is at work! He gobbles it up like a turkey. He swears that your food is the best thing he has ever had; he literally moans when the aroma hits his nostrils.

I forget which fic I read this from (I will link if I find it), but I adore the headcanon of Hawk’s taking rut suppressant pills. I just think it makes so much sense since it aligns with his work-centric life and his lack of a wife (we aren’t talking about when you are married to him, obviously). They are probably similar to birth control pills where they stop the rut from happening 5% of the time.

Even without his rut happening, Keigo still has a huge breeding kink. Can you blame him though? He just thinks that you'll look gorgeous with his cum leaking out of your pretty pussy.

*whispers* he also has the equipment to match

He has definitely accidentally run into a window from imagining you with a cute lil baby bump.

He can get a little whiny and needy about wanting to devour your pussy. He will straight up beg you on his hands and knees. Please say yes to him.

The songs Angel with a Shotgun and Mr Blue Sky fit him so well. Fight me on this.

Also the song Hey Look Ma, I made it

I just imagine happy birb listening to Mr. Blue Sky after meeting you.

Intentional or not, his wings flap and rustle during sex.

On the topic of his wings, I don’t think they are as sensitive as we all wish they were. It’s not like he’s gonna start moaning and whimpering when random fans touch his wings (he canonical doesn’t) HOWEVER, it does feel nice when you massage and gently comb your fingertips through them. I’m thinking that it’s similar to hair?? Or maybe his wings are ticklish?? But only in the right context??

You are the only person he really trusts to take care of his wings

Keigo loves holding you in his arms and taking you on night flights. The stars always seem brighter when they are reflected in your eyes (at least, Keigo thinks so…). You even have your own set of aviator goggles to wear during these dates.

One of his favorite things is when he DOESN’T have morning patrol and can snuggle you until at least 10 in the morning. Although it may be longer because his sleep debt is so huge. There is just something so satisfying and peaceful with having you close enough to hear your heartbeat.

His biggest dream is being able to have a family with you in a quaint little house. His life, your life…they aren’t constantly in danger and he can sleep in with you, make you breakfast (it’s only a little burnt), wrap his wings around you.

Keigo is extremely possessive of, not only you, but the life you created together. He is very sensitive towards things that threaten the small slice of normalcy he has, eliciting a sense of hypervigilance and territorialism.

His mental state isn’t the best from the culmination of trauma he experiences, leading him to commit psychic cannibalism on himself. He represses all of these negative feelings in order to perform to the best of his ability and be the good lap dog for the Hero Commission.

Needs therapy.

It’s established that he has some form of echolocation through his feathers. So…hear me out…just to make sure you are safe 24/7, Keigo gives you one of his smaller feathers. I’m not going to rant because I might make this into a small oneshot/drabble later

#Keigo Takami #Keigo Takami x reader #Hawks #Hawks x reader #Hawk mha #bnha #reader insert #Hawks smut #Keigo Takami smut #Hawks x reader smut #my hero academia smut #mha smut #mha x reader #Hawks headcanons #Keigo headcanons #Keigo x reader #Hawks x you #Keigo Takami x you #fluff

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eclipsedechoesofmywords · 3 months ago

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"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #bau team #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #x reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning.

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly.

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt.

You'd like to keep it that way.

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour.

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again.

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return.

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage.

It's deep but small. A nick.

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means…

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid.

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor.

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream."

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?"

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?"

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence."

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay."

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?"

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?"

"You want to tell me, right?"

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope."

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?"

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside."

"What were you doing up?"

"That's my business," Morgan says.

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers.

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops.

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby.

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?"

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?"

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading.

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night."

She gawps.

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never… and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–"

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?"

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down."

"Yes sir."

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly.

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…"

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh.

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me."

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now."

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away.

"I don't deserve him," you say softly.

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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soleilapproves · 3 months ago

Text

Imagine celebrity!reader and actor!Nanami telling the world about their relationship (feat. Boxer!Sukuna cause why not)

Masterlist

-•-

Consider this related to the first actor!Nanami head cannons I wrote about.

You and Nanami have been denying the relationship rumors for the longest time now. Every time a reporter or a fan would ask you about your relationship status, you’d be quick to change the topic. Which is why everyone stopped being suspicious after a while. “Y/N and Nanami Kento spotted at Nobu” a headline would read, but no one would bat an eye. At this point, your fans weren’t even surprised to see Nanami at most of your shows. They just took pictures of him and chalked it up to friendly support. Tabloids labeled you two as the most confusing friends in the entertainment industry as most tv shows and music videos required you both to be act as a couple.

Little did everyone know, you and Nanami had been dating all along. You realized that not having your relationship out in the open but still hanging out as friends was much more bearable because there weren’t a lot of eyes on you. It was Nanami’s idea and you simply ran along with it because you wanted him to be comfortable. You knew it didn’t matter as long as those who were close to you both knew you were together.

However, a few months into the relationship, Nanami started having this strange feeling in his chest whenever you had to make public appearances alone. Especially when you went to a boxing match as a promotion strategy for your new song. Everyone knew that The Demon aka Sukuna Ryomen was the biggest flirt outside the ring. Nanami was worried that Sukuna would be seen hitting on you and the press would run wild with that story.

Unfortunately, Sukuna did hit on you. But on the bright side, no one saw it happen! After you returned home from the event, Nanami sat you down and finally said what was on his mind. He wanted to go public. You couldn’t be more elated! You called your manager up and they had a whole strategic plan but you said that you wanted to be as spontaneous as possible.

Which is why, the two of you were now in a dressing room for a huge magazine cover shoot. You both (well, mainly you) had decided to go public in style! The photographer said that concept was about pillow talk. Think soft fabrics, loose clothing, unmade bed, messy hair, and natural makeup.

Everything felt very organic. You wore just a large t-shirt with messy hair while Nanami was going to be shirtless with sweatpants. The two of you posed for individual pictures first. You took a picture laying down, stretching, and then reaching towards the camera like you were reaching for your boyfriend’s face.

Nanami’s pictures had a more sensual vibe compared to yours. His pictures had him stare into the camera while leaning against a set window, lean back against the headboard with his arms crossed (making his pecs look absolutely stunning), and reading a book with one arm behind his head.

The pictures you two took together were quite romantic. The cover picture you both picked had his arm wrapped around you from behind while you sat in his lap, leaning back into his shoulder with a lazy smile. He looked stoic as usual (his manager told him not to go too crazy as his image was all about being strong and silent).

The photos came out and the world went CRAZY. You both got many compliments for your chemistry together and looking absolutely perfect even when you’re all messy. Fans clamored saying that they knew you both were together the entire time but were too afraid to reveal it. Not much changed but you both got a lot of positive attention by revealing your relationship. Obviously there were some negative aspects like tabloids talking about your supposed pregnancy or infidelity. But the two of you gracefully overcame them.

Cameramen at your concerts would purposefully point the camera at Nanami when you were doing a particularly sensual number. Everyone would cheer as soon as his flushed face would be displayed on the huge screens. Interviewers would quiz him on the lyrics of your songs (and he would always get them right). His fans began listening to your music and supporting you too.

In your case, many directors started considering you for more serious roles (perks of relationship nepotism). You would always be Nanami’s date at his premiers and you would be the first person he would thank in his award speeches.

And after a few years, when you guys get engaged, Architectural Digest would do a special segment where you both show off your vacation home in Kuantan, Malaysia.

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader

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shellshocklove · 5 months ago

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brat three: i don't wanna feel feelings | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel’s brat summer is coming to an end.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking, reader wears a dress, heels and makeup but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, some angst, smut, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, degradation (whore, slut), oral sex (f+m receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok so here's part three to brat! there's one more part planned, and then that's it! <3 big thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this, i love you!! <333 happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The gravel moaned under your heels as you carefully left your uber at the foot of the driveway. The air smelled of summer; flower-y notes with a hint of anticipation. Cars lined the driveway, tightly parked with the wheels almost hanging in the air over the ditch. The sky turned purple then pink as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, the small beams of light coming through the doors of the big barn beamed brighter and brighter the closer you got.

This wasn’t the first time you’d crashed a party, but it was your first wedding. You’d looked up the place online, Pecan Grove Ranch. It was nice, but pedestrian, not filled with the extravagance a party of this size would rank up in your father’s circles – the ones you’d been dragged too ever since you were old enough to put on a charming smile. This felt real, no fake happy smiles and secret codes, just people gathering to celebrate love.

Love.

It had always been a thing that happened to other people. To your friends, to the protagonist in a movie, to the person on the other side of your kiss. They always thought they were in love with you, but love always felt like a joke everyone was in on except for you, a story told to sell movie tickets or for a song to hit number one.

Sex was different, sex you understood. It was like acting, and you had no problem slipping into the role. It was fun, it was a release, it was a fleeting connection you couldn’t help but chase.

One you were chasing right now.

Maybe Joel was right, maybe you are desperate, but it was his fault for leaving you like that, right on edge but without the release. Honestly, it was his fault you were here, you thought as you stood outside the open barn doors.

Off to the side a few of the guests had gathered around a picnic table. Billowing white smoke clouded them as you watched their animated conversation between drags of their cigarettes and sips of their drinks. A small boy ran past you, almost crashing into you as a little girl chased after him with a giggling laugh. They chased each other on the grass, as they ran between the large trees where a million lighting bugs danced between them.

The air felt light like cotton candy, a sweetness of celebrated love coated the faces that emerged as you stepped inside. The picking guitar intro of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ met you at the door, followed by a large cheer, bordering on collective scream, coming from the people on the dance floor. Walking slowly, you followed the back wall of the barn. A light breeze came through the open doors and windows, and tugged at your dress as you closed in on the bar.

Open bar… Nice, Tommy.

Most of the guest had their assigned seats at the round tables pressed up against the wooden walls of the barn. They must’ve been moved to make room for the dancefloor, you thought as you leaned up against the side of the bar. It was rustic, made entirely of untreated wood and decorated with large white bows. The bartender was around your age, handsome, and painfully bored it seemed by the way he lit up when you approached.

“What can I getcha?” he asked, a charming lilt to his voice.

“Um…” your teeth caught on your bottom lip, as you scanned the drinks menu. They all had quirky names, most likely inside jokes or references to the wedding couple that mostly went over your head.

“One ‘Contractor Juice’, please?” you ordered, holding back from cringing at the name. At least you got this reference, and the promise of mint and citrus mixed with alcohol had never failed you before.

“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender smiled, a little too sweet for your liking, or maybe you’d developed a preference for grumpy frowns.

“So… bride or groom?” he asked, making conversation as he worked.

“Um… groom,” you told him, leaning your back against the bar as your eyes rolled over the tables, searching.

“Ain’t seen you up here yet,” he said, a question unsaid hanging in the air as he handed you your drink.

Turning around, you thanked him and slipped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “There,” you said, “Now you can turn off the charm.”

You watched how he tried to hide his smile, as he held up his hands in a surrender, “Who’s to say I can turn it off?”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him. It was cute, two dimples separated by perfect white teeth. At the start of the summer, you might’ve let him fuck you at the end of the night, but the summer was coming to a close, and you had your eyes set on someone else.

He had his back turned, but you knew it was him, you’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. Something bubbled under your skin then, and your hands felt clammy around your glass – you were nervous, there was a whole room between you, but he still managed to make you nervous.

Maybe this was a bad idea?

He sat with his body turned, his hand around a beer bottle, as he watched the dancefloor move. Your eyes followed his and found Tommy where he danced, his hand clasping a woman’s, a woman you’d only seen in photos.

Joel’s daughter.

She was beautiful. Clad in a dark lavender satin dress, matching the other bridesmaids. Her dark hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of her neck, held together by a matching satin bow, perfect curls spilled across her back. Her smile was even prettier as she laughed and sang with her uncle, swinging to ‘Build Me up Buttercup’. It was the same smile you could see across Joel’s face as he watched them.

The drink burned slightly from the acidity at the back of your throat, and you were grateful that he’d been heavy on the liquor. You needed to catch up, let the alcohol loosen you up, pull away your unexpected nerves.

“Who’s that?” you heard behind you. A warmth coated your neck and cheeks at being caught staring, and the embarrassment mixed with anger.

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business,” you scoffed.

The bartender huffed out a dry laugh, “Jesus, it’s wedding small talk, no need to bite my head off.”

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk,” you told him, sending him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

When you turned back around, Joel’s seat was empty, the beer bottle he’d nursed left behind on the table, the only sign he’d ever been seated there in the first place. Your tongue found the straw of your drink, twirling it around while you sipped, eyes scanning the dancefloor.

Nothing.

Did he slip out? Out to catch some fresh air or go to the bathroom? Maybe you could find the restroom, hover outside the door and ‘accidently’ bump into him?

No.

You cringed. Did you even hear yourself? As you took another sip, trying and failing to come up with a plan, a familiar gruff voice heaved a heavy sigh behind you.

“You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

He didn’t look angry, but the way his hand rubbed over his face was worse, he was disappointed to see you.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Celebrating Tommy, and–” you squinted your eyes, looking at the name scrawled elegantly next to Tommy’s on the bar menu, “–Maria... aren’t you?”

You gave Joel an easy smile, and stepped closer, crossing one foot nonchalantly over the other. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of seeing you even a bit phased he’d caught you crashing his brother’s wedding.

A huff escaped Joel at your lie before the corners of his mouth pulled ever so slightly in a dry, sarcastic smile.

“That’s cute,” he told you, his voice devoid of any humor in it, tone entirely disbelieving.

“I’ve been known to be described as such,” you grinned.

Joel didn’t seem to like your joke, his face not moving an inch. “You know this is way out of line, right?”

“What?” you snorted, taking a sip of your drink as your eyes fanned out over the room for a second, before landing back on Joel, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Joel let out an almost incredulous scoff, shaking his head as his eyes quickly scanned across the room, going to Tommy still on the dancefloor with Sarah. Something seemed to flash over his eyes, or maybe it was the lights but he leaned forward then, fingers wrapping around your forearm in a firm grip.

“Way to make it obvious,” you said under your breath as he pulled you a bit. Not letting him have it, you planted your feet, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he told you, his voice filled with annoyance.

Something ignited in you then, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. Unable to contain your smile as the words crossed his lips, you felt them settle in your core, drip down your thighs like sticky honey.

“You’d know just what do about that, wouldn’t you?” you challenged, your eyes burning into his, and for a second, you had his attention. He held your gaze, and his eyes flickered with the same intensity you felt.

A beat passed between you, and you watched as his jaw tightened, waiting for the bomb to tick down to zero.

Then it popped.

The guests cheered as a song faded into another, and Joel took a step closer to you. His hand released your forearm to slip around your waist as his eyes never left yours.

“Come,” he spoke through his teeth, his voice low and quiet.

The feel of his hand so close to your skin sent your brain into a temporary reboot. You’d craved it all week, missed him so close to you, missed his scent on your skin, and you let yourself be steered away.

Quickly, Joel led you out the barn doors, his hand firmly pressed against your lower back as he looked over his shoulder. The music faded as he guided you towards a handful of small, scattered cabins hidden away behind a grove of trees. The trail snaked its way from tree to tree, your heels digging into the gravel making it hard to keep up with Joel’s pace. He walked with haste, passing cabin after cabin until the hand on your lower back looped around your waist, turning you around to face him as he came to a stop outside the last cabin.

His eyes drilled into your own, giving you a wild look, “I want you to leave,” he said, voice stern.

Leaning into his touch, you tilted your head to the side and let your eyes roll over him. He’d combed his hair back, wavy curls held back by gel. You raised your hand to cup his cheek, letting your thumb run through his trimmed scruff, hints of salt and pepper shone under the rising moonlight. The full of his lips was pressed together in a tight line, your eyes trailing your thumb as you let it gently run over his lips. Something softened in him under your touch, his eyes brown and deep as they watched you, it made your heart pick up its beat, hammering out of your chest.

Leaning closer, your eyes flickered to his lips again, and you thought about how you didn’t know what he tasted like, didn’t know how his lips felt against your own. You were so close now; his breath came out in small puffs against your face. Slowly you tilted your head, your nose accidentally brushing up against the crook of his own.

“You owe me a fucking orgasm,” you whispered.

His hand around your waist tightened, and with a small huff he tilted his head back.

“I owe you nothin’, princess.”

God, he could be stubborn sometimes.

It might’ve annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. You loved how he made you work for it, and he was worth doing the work. Something deep down inside you knew it. Joel was a good man. If you weren’t careful he’d remove the walls built up by that lonely girl you’d kept hidden inside; one emotional stone at a time. Maybe it was ironic? The man who’d devoted his life to building walls, now breaking them down?

“Why do you deny yourself something you want?”

“You...” Joel swallowed hard, dark eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”

The words stung more than you’d like to admit, and when Joel’s hand slipped from your body as he stepped away, a wave of anxiety washed over you.

Had you gone too far?

Joel didn’t look happy, and a small knot started to tie itself in your stomach under his gaze. You watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his tuxedo jacket, making it fall open and showing you his perfectly pressed shirt underneath. His right hand dug into his inner pocket, fishing out a white key card.

His steps were heavy up the front stairs to the cabin, almost dragging, like he moved through molasses. The lock clicked as he held the key card against it, a green light blinking before he opened the door.

Dumbfounded, you stood at the foot of the front steps. You’d riled him up, played your little game and he’d gone along with it like always.

Was this how it was gonna end?

He stood in the opening, hand on the handle with one foot on either side – halfway in, but also halfway out. He didn’t move, his head tipped forward, weighing his options. Then he sighed and pushed the door open, and stepped inside the darkness.

“C‘mon, get in before anyone sees you.”

The cabin was quaint, but cozy, with only the necessities. It was more like a hut, not bigger than a hotel room. A narrow hallway opened up to the bedroom, with a door to the right leading to a bathroom. Joel had placed his overnight bag on the chair in the corner, a worn leather duffle bag with a dark t-shirt and pair of jeans thrown over it, clearly thrown in a hurry to get ready. White lace curtains hung over the windows, bright against the dark wood of the paneled walls.

The clinking of Joel’s belt pulled you from the silence, your head twitched like a reflex turning towards him. He’d shed his tuxedo jacket, his broad shoulders fighting against his pristine white shirt. He walked towards you slowly as he removed his cufflinks; the warmth in his eyes had turned darker. Taking a step backwards the back of your thighs pressed into the chair, almost tipping you over, but he caught you, one arm tight around your wrist while the other threw the cufflinks on the pile of clothes behind you.

“You say ‘red’ ‘nd we stop,” he told you, eyes holding your gaze so intently you didn’t dare look away. An inaudible breath pressed past your lips when his other hand cupped your cheek, the touch reminding you to nod your head.

“Or I pinch you,” you said.

A pleased smile spread across his face, “Good.” He punctuated his approval with a light pat to your cheek.

Stepping away, he nodded towards the bed, an unspoken order, while his hands found his tie around his neck where he tugged at the knot. You sat at the foot of the bed, knees pressed together, waiting for him to make the first move. The white sheets smelled strongly of detergent, nothing like the faded hints of his cologne mixed with sawdust you’d smelled on his own sheets that first night he’d fucked you.

The tie slipped from his neck and you fell back on your arms, feigning boredom while you let out an audible sigh. It made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you queried, your brows pulled together in a frown.

A smile leftover from his chuckle coated his lips as he stepped closer, your legs spreading for him to slot between as he threw the tie on the bed beside you.

“Nothin’.”

Over you, he gently rolled up his sleeves with practiced hands before he wrapped a hand tightly around your upper arm. Then he tugged.

“Hey!” you said, fighting against his grip as he manhandled you. He turned you roughly, his other hand fingering the zipper of your dress, while the other held you in place. “Be careful with the dress,” you whined.

“Stop actin’ like a fuckin’ child,” he muttered, helping you out of your dress.

“A child? Well… that doesn’t bode well for you with what you’re about to do.”

That stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning as he let go of you. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, throwing your dress over his pile of clothes, “you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Freed from his grip, a smirk pulled at your lips as you shuffled up the bed. Leaning back on your elbows, you seductively parted your legs for him, showing him the darkened patch of fabric scarcely covering your cunt.

“You keep saying that,” you smiled, saccharine and sticky like syrup.

“I’ll stop when you finally start behavin’.” Joel’s hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you towards him with a hard jerk, making a giggly squeal escape you.

“Never– HEY!”

A ripping sound tore through the room, your skimpy panties tattered in his large hands. A smirk spread over his face. The motherfucker looked mighty pleased with himself.

“Surprised you’re even wearin’ these,” he said, thumbing at the wet patch of arousal, before he tossed them to the floor. “A slut like you should’ve gone without, shouldn't you?”

The warmth of his touch over your knees had you twitching for him, goosebumps following his hands as they rubbed gently up and down your legs. His eyes never left your face though, watching every reaction you gave up.

“I…” your rebuttal trailed off when he fell to his knees, slotting between your own and spreading you open for him, one hand glided down the outside of your thigh to your ass, while the other found your aching clit.

Then he spat. A thick blob of saliva ran from the top of your mound down your clit, where it combined with your arousal shining through your glistening folds.

“Joel!?” you gasped when the rough pad made contact, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit around in small circles.

You kinda hated this part; getting eaten out. No partner had gotten it right before. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it could be, but never seeing stars good… And you couldn’t help but think about that first time someone had gone down on you, about the boytoy you’d had wrapped around your finger freshman year. He’d given you an orgasm maybe 60% of the time he’d fucked you (which was a better successrate than your later hook-ups), but his comment as he’d gotten on his knees for you for the first time still rang loudly in your head.

It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?

The small laugh he’d let out had only made it worse, and you’d dumped him less than twenty-four hours later. Now, you hated having a man this close to your pussy.

Your hand found Joel’s shoulder, where it pushed. “I don’t…” you interrupted yourself with a hand over your face, not wanting to look at him.

“What, baby?”

Suddenly he was there, hovering above you, caging you in with his body, heavy hand pushing at your own over your face.

“Ain’t in the mood for the orgasm I owe ya, is that it?” he smirked, and you stayed obstinately silent for a second.

“What is it, hm?” he asks you, “Not gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?”

Pretty…

“Joel…”

Your eyes searched his face, looking to find where he’d hidden his lie. His face grew sterner, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow.

“Tell me.”

Your front tooth caught on your lip and a heat prickled up your neck. You couldn’t tell him, you just couldn’t. Joel’s palm found your cheek, heavy and safe against your skin, letting his thumb sooth you and your eyelids fluttered from his touch. A breath got caught in your throat when he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the column of your neck, your pulse vibrating under his lips.

“Do I have to wring it outta you?” he whispered against your skin, his hand gliding from your cheek to fit around your neck. The air between you changed and you forced yourself to snap back into your disguise.

“I’d like to see you try.”

A deep rumbling laugh vibrated against your skin and Joel found your eyes again. His hand around your neck soothed over your skin and you found yourself pushing up into his hand, daring him to tighten his grip.

“There she is… my brat,” he smiled.

Mine.

He was gone before the possessive word could settle, hovering over your body as he rid himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was so handsome, broad and strong with speckled grey hairs trailing to the heavy bulge hidden away behind the soft fabric of his dress pants. His undone belt clicked as he moved closer, climbing onto the bed between your legs.

“Scoot up,” Joel ordered with a tap to the outer skin of your thigh.

The huff you let out was exasperated, earning you a stern look as his large palms found the cheeks of your ass, patting your skin lightly, before he helped you move. The way he fluffed the pillows behind your back was almost tender, and your eyebrows pulled together in the slightest frown.

“Is your definition of ‘wringin’ it outta me’–” you mocked his drawl, “–fucking like a boring old married couple in missionary? Is that what you used to do with your wife?”

The way Joel’s eyes hardened made a smile break over your face. Quickly, you regretted the smile when his hand clasped around your wrist, bending it backwards towards the bed post.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you demanded, playfully fighting against his grip, but Joel was too strong.

“Behave.”

“But I hate that,” you exclaimed with a sigh, pushing your head back into the pillow.

His silk tie tickled against the thin skin under your wrist, and you had to turn your head to watch him as he tied your hand to the bed. The way he did it exuded no nonsense; his eyebrows were tied together in concentration as practiced fingers danced over the knots, testing them with a light tug.

“I’m givin’ you what you ain’t closed to earned– so you oughta be grateful, princess, ‘nd thank me,” he told you as he moved on to your other hand.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you when he grabbed a hold of it, daring you to put up a fight again.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

The way you said it was sugary sweet, and you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, but a pleased smile settled over his lips either way. Then his fingers found his belt, tugging it from his waist all in one go, his muscles moved under his skin from the strain. The leather felt harsher around your skin than his tie, but Joel made sure to not tie it to tightly. When he was pleased with you, he found his spot between your legs again.

His rough hands teased over your naked skin, eyes fixed on the way it gave way for him when he squeezed ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but watch him – there was nothing you could do now, your hands literally tied.

“I oughta tie these too I reckon,” he mused, pushing your legs wider, “but I’m outta rope,” he chuckled, way too pleased with his own joke.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you said, voice dry with an unimpressed look on your face.

Lowering himself, he placed playful lovebites to the soft skin of the inside of your thigh. The lower he got, the closer he got, you felt yourself brace for impact as your eyes found the ceiling.

You felt his hot breath first, gentle huffs against your spit-soaked clit. How soft his kiss was, you didn’t expect– didn’t expect the fluttering touch of his lips down your pussy, so gentle against the core of you. A stuttering breath caught in your throat, and quickly you melted against the pillows.

“Hey,” Joel caught your attention. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he let the scratch of his rough beard rub against the thin skin of your inner thigh. “Look at me, only me, you hear?”

He underlined his order with a soothing kiss to the sensitive skin, pulling a nod from you. Pleased, his lips skated downwards, teeth nipping playfully at the skin, leaving small bursts of electricity in the wake of his touch.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby– all wet ‘nd messy f’me.” Joel spoke with a deep bass, as two fingers found your seam, swiping them through your folds. “Listen,” he told you, as the slick sound of your arousal filled the cabin.

The beat in your chest seemed louder and louder in your ears the more he taunted you. You didn’t want to do this with Joel – fake it – feel that stone of disappointment sink into the depths of yourself as the orgasm you so desperately wanted fizzled away into nothing. Couldn’t he just rub your clit a little? Finger you instead?

With his fingers Joel spread you apart and a heat travelled up your neck. You felt so exposed, and you had to fight not to look away from him when he leaned forward with the flat of his tongue, tasting you. A breath caught in your throat like a reflex, and a low hum rumbled out of Joel’s chest, almost in… contentment. Your eyebrows met in a furrow then.

He couldn’t seriously like this?

He continued to lap at your folds, taking his time, and it felt… good, really good. When he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit, you couldn’t fight back your moan.

“C’mon, let me hear you, princess,” he said, his tone of voice way too cocky.

He latched on to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in a way no man had ever done before. It was intense, sloppy, almost primal. Small, breathy sighs built in your chest, and you wished you could touch him, hold on to him.

Joel licked down through your folds again; his tongue teasing at your hole. “Is–” you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp, reeling from the way his tongue pushed into you. “Is t-this what you call e-eating pussy?” you tried again to taunt, far from convincing.

Joel didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he switched his tongue with his fingers. The wet mix of your arousal and saliva made the slide easy. A breathy whimper escaped your lips when he curled them, hitting the spongy spot inside you and hurling you quickly towards your release.

“Fuck,” you sighed, bucking your hips against his lips closing around your clit again.

You couldn’t stay still, your hips moving erratically to meet the swipes and zigzags of his tongue. Never had it felt like this, this good, this perfect. His fingers moved easily in and out, in and out, with a slick squelch. Squeezing your eyes shut, Joel coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm. The pads of his fingers hit you just right, massaging with every thrust. An increasing pressure swiweled in your stomach around the laps of his tongue around your clit. Your back moved on it’s own, arching off the bed as his makeshift restraints tightened with your movement. A hand found your ass then, holding you flush to his face and you felt yourself starting to wither.

“There she goes… my good girl,” he hummed against you, “Come all over my tongue, princess.”

You let the wave of pleasure wash over you with a broken scream. You didn’t have to fake a thing as your whole body shook with your orgasm. His fingers continued their pace, pushing through your spasming walls and prolonging your ecstasy. Every sigh and whimpering moan was real, and you lost yourself in the buzzing feeling of Joel taking you apart and putting you back together again.

When the aftershocks fizzled out Joel pulled his fingers, slicked up and soaked from your cunt. A cocky grin coated his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers. When your eyes found his, something in them had you slipping under, a want so strong to drown in them.

He climbed off the bed, your blissed out gaze rolling over him as he removed his dress pants and underwear. You could feel yourself go doe eyed when he took his hard cock in hand, giving it a few practiced tugs as he studied you at his mercy, spread apart and dripping with a mix of your pearly arousal, his spit and your cum.

He was perfect; his broad chest, tanned under the Texan sun with speckled hairs trailing down his torso where it ended in a dark wiry patch at the base of his impressive cock. Your mouth dropped open in the smallest of o’s – you wanted to taste him again, feel your spit mixed with his precum on your tongue, the thick head of his cock knock at the back of your throat.

“Daddy…” you pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

“What, princess?” he taunted, voice laced with fake pity as he climbed on the bed again. Letting go of his thick cock, he wrapped his hands under your armpits and hiked you upright against the pillows. Under him you couldn’t help but soften at the edges.

“What d’you want, huh? What does my slut want?” he continued, straddling your body, two strong thighs on either side of your torso. He was so close like this, veiny cock inches from your waiting mouth. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away to find his eyes, focusing hard on finding your words as you could see him start to stroke himself again in your peripheral. The large head of his cock grazed your lips with every stroke, pearling a salty taste of precum for you to taste.

“Why do you ask, when you already know?” you said, your voice lacking your infamous bite. A smile tore at Joel’s face, and a rumbling laugh escaped him as he moved closer.

“Maybe my cock pluggin’ up that throat will make you behave f’me?” he mused, like he was speaking his inner thoughts out loud and you weren’t even there. “At least you’d be quiet for once.”

His other hand found your chin, then, robbing you of your answer as he squeezed at the flesh, forcing your mouth to pop open. “Kiss it for Daddy, princess,” he ordered, slapping his cock on your waiting tongue.

When he let go of your face, you wrapped your plush lips around his thick head, suckling wet kisses to the tip. A lewd moan escaped you at the familiar taste of him, his musk filling your nostrils. It was addicting, Joel was addicting, and you needed more.

The desperate whine you let out, earned you a reprimanding slap to your cheek. “Don’t get greedy now, ‘m gonna give ya what you want,” he told you and pulled back, while the sting prickled away. You couldn’t help the pout forming, and Joel was quick to sooth it away with his thumb tracing over your lips.

“Listen, baby,” he found your eyes, “You kick me, alright? You kick me ‘f you wanna stop.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Okay, what?” he demanded with a slap of his cock against your cheek, smearing glistening precum over your skin.

“Okay, Daddy,” you smiled and dropped your mouth open so he could feed you his cock – all the way this time.

“That’s it, my good girl.”

Eagerly, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, his heavy cock plugged up your throat as he made room for himself. You didn’t gag right away like last time, you had practice now. As he pushed himself deeper, his hand braced himself against the headboard, while the other cradled your head – his rough thumb skated gently over your skin as he gently rocked his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned above you, “That’s it, slut, let me feel your throat open f’me.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself, holding back your gag reflex as tears started to prickle at your eyes. Even with practice, Joel wasn’t easy to take. Your lips stretched wide around the girth of him, swollen and used as spit slicked up his pubes. With each rock of his hips you felt the bulbous head knock at the back of your throat, bruising your flesh.

The sight of you must’ve been pornographic; your throat bulging with every rock of his hips as your spit dripped down your chest, pooling at his thighs stretched over your chest.

A vicious gag choked you, and Joel pulled back quickly, his cock wet with your spit bopping heavily in front of you face. You spluttered between gasps of air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as tears ran in a steady stream, smudging your make-up. His hand cradling your head tightened slightly, tilting you to catch his eyes as something close to worry flashed over his face.

“Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?” his voice was strict, “‘nd I need ya to kick me!”

“Keep going!”

Your voice was hoarse and wet, but it didn’t seem to convince Joel. His face gave nothing away, stern and hard, teeth biting down a scowl – but his hands were tender, stroking at your skin.

“Ain’t ever been with a woman who’s as much of a slut as you I reckon,” he mused, his hand leaving your face to grip himself, tapping the length of himself against your skin.

“Embarrassing way to admit you haven’t been with a lot of women, Joel,” you told him, hiding your smile behind a soft kiss to the wet head of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” A laugh escaped him, surprisingly light for someone out to punish you.

Moving your head, you started to press light kisses down his shaft, waiting for Joel to take control again, to punish you – like you ‘deserved,’ but all he did was a whole lot of nothing. When your tongue finally reached the base of him, your cheek pressed into the crease between his thigh and hip as your lips brushed gently against the soft skin of his balls – so heavy and full. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stroked in languid motions, like he savored it, wanted to memorize every calculated jerk.

“‘s that what you want, huh?” he asked, voice low and dark, almost tainting, and you couldn’t hold back the mewl escaping you. “Go on then, princess, suck on my balls like a good whore.”

With his other hand he guided one of his balls to your mouth. When you wrapped your lips around him, suckling gently at the sensitive skin, a deep groan fell from Joel’s lips.

“That’s good, princess, that’s so fuckin’ good.”

Being so close, breathing in the masculine musk of him, you almost squirmed under his weight, your cunt desperate and dripping with arousal. You felt so dirty, sucking on the balls of a man more than twice your age as he had his way with you. It would never feel like this again with anyone else – you knew it, you didn’t know how, but you did.

“C’mon, give the other one some sugar too.”

Humming out in an agreement, you let go with a pop as he guided the other ball into your waiting mouth for you to suckle around. The rhythm of his strokes picked up when you flattened your tongue, licking at the seam.

“God,” he groaned, “such a fuckin’ slut f’me– so fuckin’ desperate for my balls in your mouth–”

Joel cut himself off with a deep groan, as he backed up, making you chase after him as he held himself at the base, squeezing. Your restraints dug into your wrists, and you whined in defeat.

This bondage act was starting to get old.

“Gonna come already, old man?”

Joel didn’t seem to like your attitude, his joints cracking as he climbed back onto the bed, the welcomed weight of him now gone.

“That’s rich,” he spat, “coming from the one showin’ up here all desperate for me to fuck her.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, voice bored.

That seemed to finally inspire some action in him. With stern eyes, and a stern grip, Joel parted your legs to slot between. The way his hands dug into your skin hurt, angry finger-shaped welts as he manuveroured you, had you wishing for the dizzying pain of a bruise tomorrow to remind you of this, of Joel.

Your hips bucked when you felt the blunt head of his cock against your clit, making him throw a hand over your waist to keep you still. A heat coated your cheeks when you heard it, the slick sound of your wet cunt as he dragged himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your desperation.

“Missionary?” you bit, fighting hard to hold back your moans as he teased at your dripping opening, “You’re so old fashioned.”

“I like to watch brats break when they finally get a cock in them,” he bit back, “Now beg f’mine.”

“No,” you hiccuped, with a weak shake of your head.

Joel played dirty – his thumb came up to graze over your clit, as he continued to tease his cock at your opening, pressing in slightly and then pulling out again just as quickly. He had you squirming for him in seconds, desperate to feel him make a home for himself inside you.

“Beg, brat.”

His thumb on your clit pressed down harder in tight, practiced figure eights, and you had no choice but to break. You needed him, needed Joel inside.

“Please,” you gasped, “Please, fuck me.”

But Joel continued circling his thumb, drawing you closer to the edge again. It got harder and harder to stay still as he pushed at your boundaries. Everything inside you screamed for him, like you were a piece of metal and he was the magnet. You couldn’t stay away, you’d always end up pressed against him.

“Whose cunt is this?” he demanded, suddenly hovering above you, dark eyes staring into yours. A large palm held your head in place, anchoring you to him, his face, this moment.

“Yours,” you whispered, “Yours, Joel.”

His name left your lips as a sight, the syllables stolen out of the air when he pushed at your opening, heavy cock splitting you in two and seating himself in your heat. He had your legs shaking, head lulling into his palm at the pleasurable pressure poking at the depths of you, where no one but Joel could reach.

“It’s okay, baby– you come on that cock if ya need to,” he hummed, a hint of condescension in his low voice as he continued to rub your clit.

Everything was coming to a head. Pleasure beamed through your body, like a supernova, as you exploded for Joel, shaking under his body as your eyes rolled back in your head. Whimpering moans stole your breaths, and you almost didn’t register Joel’s deep voice rumbling against the collum of your throat.

“C’mon… that’s it… good girl, that’s my good girl– y’feel so good, baby.”

His warm breath felt sticky against your skin, and you found yourself hoping he’d never leave; that you could somehow tattoo how he felt against you on your skin, let him mark you as his.

When your legs stopped shaking, Joel’s thumb stopped bullying your clit. He let you catch your breath, heaving chest slowing to steady rhythm again. His eyes found yours again, and for a moment they were almost tender, as something real started to weigh between you. You wanted to say something, anything, but Joel pulled away, hooking his arms under your knees before he finally started to pound into you, chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your walls already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d already given you. The way he split you open around the girth of him, it was always too much, you couldn’t see how you’d ever get used to the feeling of him.

Joel's breath got heavier as he picked up his pace, balls slapping wetly against your ass, as deep groans vibrated through his chest.

“That’s it, princess, you take it,” he rambled, “Good girl– go dumb on that cock f’me.”

His hands dug into your skin, his mind so caught up in you, in the way you felt squeezing around him.

Slap, slap, slap.

He was so deep, he must’ve fucked his way into your stomach. You felt yourself go limp in his arms, letting him take what he needed, letting him use you for his own pleasure.

“God, y’were made f’takin’ my big cock, baby.”

“Gonna fill up this pretty cunt– watch it leak outta ya.”

“Please,” you begged between harsh thrusts, your tits bouncing with every sway of his hips, “Please, come inside me, Daddy.”

With a particularly sharp thrust, his balls pulled tight against your ass, and Joel came. Deep groans of satisfaction filled your ears, the sweetest sound, as he pumped you full. He rutted into you until there was nothing left, your cunt overflowing with his sticky seed. A content sigh left your lips at the feeling, your body finally sated.

Thoughts traveled to the next moments, how you wanted him to pull you into his chest, strong arms pulled tight around your body as you both calmed down. To be held close in his embrace, a comforting hand at the back of your neck. You wanted him to kiss you, longed to feel his lips brush over yours. You searched for Joel’s eyes, searched for a small inkling of reciprocation.

Maybe you’d say something stupid – finally let go of all the feelings you can’t control anymore.

But Joel’s eyes didn’t want to catch yours, and he pulled away too quickly, sliding his softening cock from your ruined cunt. You were gonna make a mess of his sheets, you probably already had judging from the slick feeling on the inside of your thighs as you closed them.

Something in the air felt loaded suddenly, and you wanted to reach for him, touch his rough skin and ground yourself away from your nagging insecurities– But you couldn’t, your hands were bound. His strong back muscles moved under his skin as he fished his shirt from the floor, now crinkled, ruined.

“Wanna go again?” you tried, pushing at his back, barely out of reach, with your foot.

He let you push at him, but the sigh he let out as he stood to his feet to get dressed had your stomach tie itself in a knot.

“This ain’t happenin’ again,” he sighed, getting dressed.

“Sure,” you nodded in a scoff, unconvinced as a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Between your legs you felt yourself start to leak, his thick spend running down your folds to your ass, and onto the sheets.

When he finally turned around, large fingers fiddling with the small buttons of his shirt, his eyes finally caught yours. Biting down on your lip, you spread your legs coquettishly, showing him where he’d claimed you.

His eyes, however, never wandered, the familiar warmth that you had seen barely a few minutes ago now gone, his expression stoic and unreadable. You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier tighten.

“I’m serious,” he told you, and almost on instinct you felt your legs close as he leaned over you, untying one of your hands, “You ever pull something like this again, and it’ll be the last time you ever see me.”

You felt your face drop despite yourself as he untied the other hand, the corners of your mouth straightening out as a small frown appeared between your brows. You were silent for a moment as Joel walked to the other end of the room, plucking his jacket up off of the chair. Your eyes tracked his movements apprehensively.

“I thought you liked it when I behaved this way,” you said eventually, and you hated the way your tone sounded. You had meant for it to be a challenge, a call-out of his hypocrisy, but instead you sounded like a child; disappointed and petulant.

“Listen,” he started, voice calm but with a seriousness that made a nervousness tug at the back of your neck. “You’ve had your fun, and I can tolerate a lotta shit, but–... you gotta learn some fuckin’ boundaries.” Your frown only deepened at his words.

“Comin’ here–” his voice stalled as he shook his head, shrugging on the jacket “This is my family, my brother’s wedding– my fuckin’ daughter is here… You can’t just show up in my life like some kind of trainwreck every time you need me to fuck you.”

“How else am I supposed to do it? You don’t exactly text,” you bit back, “And don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” you fumbled for a retort.

“That’s just a shitty excuse for unacceptable behaviour, and you know it,” Joel said, and you felt yourself get angry at how calm he was.

It was embarrassing; your cheeks burned bright like a flame, and it fueled a deep pit of annoyance inside of you, one you didn’t even know existed as your jaw bit down in a clench. Lifting your chin in a defiant scoff, you’re not proud of the next words out of your mouth.

“You’re full of shit,” you said with a shake of your head, “You’ll barely last a week and you know it... you love it, love putting me in my place like this.”

“Sure I do,” Joel said with a nonchalant shrug, “But I sure as shit didn't sign up to deal with your antics... that’s a job for your real Daddy, sweetheart.”

That last comment felt like a slap in the face. A job for your real Daddy. In your chest you felt something cave in, as a paralyzing shock swept over your body. You went cold, so cold as your eyes drifted past Joel, and swiveled into the wood walls. He was right, Joel was right, but you never imagined he’d slap you in the face like this with the truth.

“So, listen up now, this is what you’re gonna do,” Joel said as he stepped towards you, looking you straight in the eye, ”You're gonna take your shit, ‘nd your shitty attitude, ‘nd you're gonna quietly slip outta here ‘nd pretend like you were never even fuckin’ here in the first place. ‘s that clear?”

You were barely able to nod before he stepped back and turned his back on you. When his hand found the doorknob, he threw you one last look.

“You better not be here when I get back.”

part four -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfic #brat!reader #pedro pascal

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months ago

Text

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”

“Wait for the potential of us?”

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.”

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....”

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough.

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.

And it stuck.

Now? It stung.

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...”

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it.

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job.

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years.

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .

Spencer just stared at the photo.

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours. I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call.

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”

“What?”

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.”

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?”

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now.

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life.

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely.

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night.

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car.

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face.

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?”

The three of you moved inside.

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like.

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.

“What do you know about Cat Adams?”

That bitch.

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.”

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.”

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips.

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too.

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“What is the last thing you know about her?”

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.

“What? What happened?”

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?”

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–”

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.”

Both of them went silent.

“So is he out?”

They nodded slowly, silently.

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing.

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.”

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?”

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.”

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it.

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest.

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?”

“She took your father and sister.”

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear.

“So why is she here?” You whispered back.

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation.

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable.

“Don’t even start.”

He shrugged and stayed silent.

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone.

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch.

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.

Emily sighed in agreement.

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.

And there he was.

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams.

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?”

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.

Remember what Prentiss had said to you.

“You know why I’m here.”

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off.

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense.

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.”

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

“No.” you just looked down at your hands.

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?”

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine.

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you.

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here. Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”

“Last year.”

“Was he good in bed?”

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.”

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”

“Would you have written me back?”

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.

“Spencer, are you okay?”

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound.

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away.

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.

“I should explain all of this.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”

He just nodded, staring at you really.

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back.

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.”

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find.

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face.

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger.

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.”

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…”

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.”

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better.

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago.

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him.

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you.

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

It was Spencer who spoke first.

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did.

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered.

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different.

It’s not the way it used to be.

“I need to go Spencer.”

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure.

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head.

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.”

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.”

“Y/n please.”

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.”

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek.

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out.

You didn’t.

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.

But it had to end.

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you.

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car.

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces.

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you.

The doors shut.

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage.

Your heart was aching, burning.

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time.

498 notes · View notes

bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

Note

hii, could I order a croissant, a mince pie, and an iced tea served by toto? (maybe with brown or horner reader:)

thank you, honey🤍

bakery menu

welcome to the bakery! how can i take your order? want to submit your own order, then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you!! as for this lovely anon, i changed one thing. that it wasn't an accidental launching of the relationship. but rather toto did it on purpose! (oops), i hope you love the fic

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mince pit ("i'm not jealous) + iced tea (accidental launching relationship) served by toto wolff (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/50s), size difference, zac brown!reader, launching relationships, roadside sex, car sex, cow girl position

toto sipped his drink and watched you from a short distance. the drink was sour in his mouth as he watched you talk to your father. you had always been a daddy's girl. he knew first hand how that manifested itself.

your daddy issues were so painfully clear cut, he didn't know why you would question how you ended up with them. your father was zak brown and yet you went home with toto wolff. if you were all royalty, this would count as treason and your two nations would go to war.

but this was formula one, and while it was different. toto still shouldn't have been bedding you for several months now. even now as he watched you chat with your father over drinks, toto wanted to undress you and kiss every inch of soft skin.

your father be damned.

it was after a night of drinking and toto was more than happy to take your keys away and drive you home himself. you could grab your car tomorrow, tonight toto needed to make sure that you were okay.

"thanks for doing this, toto." zak said as he shook the other man's hand.

toto nodded, he would play the shining knight. at least until he got you into his flat for the night. you looked nicer in toto's bed than you ever did your own. too many stuffed animals all over yours. he said to your father, "it's not a big deal, zak. it's better someone drive her than she drive herself."

zak chuckled, "i remember drinking that much at her age. it would kill me now." he laughed, "i bet you remember those times!" sometimes toto was reminded that he was your father's age almost to the t.

but as you once said to him, 'sucking your cock is cheaper than therapy.' as you filed your pretty nails that he would later pay to get painted.

you were soon at your father's side and laughing, "who's taking me home?" then looked to toto then your father, "he's taking me home?"

zak chuckled and looked at you, "yes. you'll be nice to mister wolff, right? no getting sick in his car?"

you nodded dumbly and smiled at toto once more, the smile was knowing and it made toto hot all over. you said to your father, "of course! thank you daddy, i'll text you when i get home!" then kissed your father on the cheek.

little did zak brown know. little did he know.

"you're jealous. you're jealous!" you said in a sing-song tone to toto once you were out of the venue, "you're jealous of my dad!" you giggled and rested against him as he brought you to his expensive car.

"i'm not jealous" he replied as he opened the car doors and got you inside. even buckled you in and you reached for him cutely to place kisses all over his face. if freud were alive, he'd be gawking at this moment. toto closed your door and then got into the car on the driver's side.

before his door was closed, your hands were all over his face. feeling the masculine nature of his features. those dark eyes, that strong jaw, that nose of his. it all excited you as you tried to get your hands all over him. you were like an insatiable puppy who demanded kisses.

he held onto the back of your hair to keep some distance between the two of you. he looked at your lips and sighed, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you pouted a little, "my daddy has no idea."

"maybe he should find out at some point." all toto knew was that if his phone went missing, there was a folder with so many photos of you in various states of undress and redress. from your pretty pussy on display to a heavy skiing jacket when you went on vacation with some 'friends' (it was toto). he knew if he ever sold them, he could make a healthy dollar. but he'd never do that. he had a hard enough time with you wearing a two-piece swimsuit around your friends.

soon toto was driving and his hand was on your thigh. slowly he inched up that skirt until his long fingers were in between your thighs, just over the waistband of the poor excuse you called panties. a lacy white number that toto bought for you.

"you wore them."

"only for you."

"did anyone else see them?"

you looked at toto with the cutest expression that fell naturally on your face. you smiled at him, still a little drunk, "of course, daddy. only the best for you."

the road you were on was quiet and toto had no choice but to pull over. he couldn't very well send you back to your cute little apartment without a pussy full of his cum. not when you were giving him such delicate looks. you were already heated and toto wanted you between his teeth.

with the car lights off, you could only maneuver yourself in the dark as toto leaned back the driver's seat to let you onto his lap. he undid his belt and his cock out of his slacks. your panties were over the back of the passenger's seat for safe keeping (they'd be lost).

in the dark you managed to find his cock and sink yourself down on it. your eyes went wide for a moment from the stretch of his cock settling inside of you. you shuddered and your inebriated mind made everything feel heightened.

"you're going to be a good girl for daddy?" he asked. he wanted to show you off to the world. show zak brown that he didn't have that tight of a grip on you. that you were a woman and you were dating a man. and there was nothing that fucker could do.

you might be brown's daughter but you were toto's baby girl. once again, daddy issues sprouted their ugly heads into the back of your mind as you rode the older man. he pushed the skirt of your dress up and kissed at your neck.

the car rocked a little bit from your movements and you panted heavily. the windows fogged up on the quiet back road. toto's hands switched from your breasts to your hips then back to your breasts when he groped them with those paws he called hands. they were huge, it was intimidating. you still didn't know how those digits managed to fit into your poor pussy.

he licked his lips as your held onto his hair, he then pressed kisses up against your heated skin. he felt the heat in his gut as he pressed kisses at your skin. his hands were eventually full of the softness of your hips as he guided your faster up and down his cock.

you panted heavily before you pulled his hair to get him to face you where you made out with him once more. you whimpered between kisses a simple, 'daddy.' and it made toto hot all over. your back arched as you really worked at his length.

you felt the sweat cause your dress to stick to your back and you make up to run a little around the edges. toto thought you looked beautiful, like a debauched little princess. all because of him. wasn't that something? that zak brown's daughter was riding toto without a car, in a semi public space. anyone could drive by and snap a photo. wouldn't that make headlines.

he held onto you tighter and started to move you faster on top of him. your noises were loud as the car rocked to your movements. and toto felt himself get so close to orgasm.

but you were first. you held onto your lover tightly and whimpered, "daddy" as you felt yourself climax. your back arched with your head almost hitting the roof of the car.

but toto kept you close to him. there was nothing that could hurt that (empty) little head of yours. not while toto wolff was still breathing. you felt so good against him even when you went a little limp against him. but he continued to work your hips against him, he buried his cock in you as deep as it would go.

your noises soon turned pathetic and the car reeked of sex. eventually toto finished inside of you with one last heavy thrust. he spilled himself into you. not that you cared, sometimes toto wondered if you enjoyed the risk of him finishing inside of you. that maybe you'd be mostly wolff dna if he came into you enough times. and toto was happy to comply because that meant you'd eventually have toto's baby at your hip. but that was for later. right now he had to get you alert enough to get into the passenger seat so he can get you home.

"come on. pull down that dress a little and get yourself seated."

you woke up the next morning in your bed to a flurry of messages, a full voice mail inbox and even fifteen emails from various people within your network. through bleary, sleepy eyes you basically made out one thing. check social media.

upon opening the app, any tiredness was zapped from your body and you felt hyper away. your eyes went wide when you saw toto's page, the newest photo wasn't of the cars or the tracks or anything. it was you in his apartment in monaco in one of his shirts (with no bra given that you could see your nipples through the fabric) looking not at the camera but at the book on the history of mercedes that he kept on the coffee table. you knew the exact moment that was taken... and now the rest of the world wanted to know every detail about your little love affair with toto.

especially your father, who was calling your for the fifty-first time that morning. there was a lot of explaining to do. <3

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