#but it seems to work out okay using my phone

[kiwii-11]

get a grip!

in which . . . darlin’ gets confronted by the shaw pack boys in their hopes of finding out more on their ‘budding interest’ with a certain southern vampire.

or . . . david, asher and milo, in older brother-like fashion, poke fun at tank for how flustered they get whenever sam is brought up.

cw . . . gn reader, they/them used, second person pov, some bland sex jokes, boys teasing darlin’/tank while they reject the idea, injury mention, obv set before the solstice w sam, a bit after david confronts tank and they have a pack meeting about it, they are also still a bit nervous about being back, mentions of high school shaw pack

“please get home safe. it’s a bit far to yours.” you say as you stand on the pavement.

“i always do, darlin’.” sam chuckles as he unlocks his car. you notice the way his eyes linger in you for a moment. “call me when mr shaw finds something out about quinn, okay? i’ll do the same.”

you nod your head and wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. it was only 10pm and sam was just now leaving your apartment after you gave him the rundown of the pack meeting that happened yesterday. he would’ve stayed longer if it weren’t for a couple of newborns causing trouble back with the clan. you had told him the meeting was about further information on what they could do about quinn, and while you still felt uneasy about discussing it with your pack, you promised david.

you’re brought back to the present when you feel sam gently pat your shoulder. “can i give ya’ a hug?”

you’ve noticed him some sort of mother hen, always looking after people. he also always seems to know when you need the attention you didn’t know could be offered. you let out a short hum of confirmation.

he squeezes your gently around your shoulders as you loosely hold onto his torso. you feel relaxed, even though it was only for a second. you swear he can hear your heart thumping against your chest harder than any punch you could throw.

“i’ll come by on thursday to check up on you, alright? you have a good night, darlin’.” he says with a sweet smile. you almost falter.

“you too, sam.”

you watch as his car drives off into the direction of his house, to which you let out a sigh of relief. turning back to your apartment building, you stop when you notice a figure standing behind the tree nearby. you pause, trying to find some sort of reasoning for them to be hiding out this late. maybe a teenager trying to sneak back in? no, that wouldn’t make any sense, the windows can’t open wide enough to do that. they don’t smell familiar. you grow wary.

as you walk closer, the figure shivers and stills. it makes you only a bit more annoyed. who was this?

in a swift motion, you have them face first pressed against the concrete with your knee weighing down on their middle back. you keep an arm in your grip as you pull the hood off their head. “why the hell are you spy—?”

“ow, ow, ow, ow, surrender, surrender, i surrender!” you recognised that whiney voice and ruffled hair from anywhere.

you get up and pull the man up to his feet as well. “asher, what the fuck are you doing stalking my apartment building?” you grunt.

“i didn’t mean to!” the pack beta complains, rubbing his arm as he picks up the bag from the ground, “i—i tried calling you but you weren’t picking up! i found this game we gotta’ start playing, it looks totally sick!”

your brow twitches as you sigh, rubbing your forehead, “my phone’s charging in my room. and it’s late at night, what are you still doing up? and… why do you smell different?”

as you guide him into the building, asher trails behind with a wide smile. “well i couldn’t sleep, and i remember at the pack meeting yesterday you said you were fine, but then david told me after that you said you had a hard time falling asleep on days you don’t work, so i thought i could come over and we could play some.” he explains to you as you enter the elevator. “and this is my mate’s jacket. you’re probably picking up their scent.”

you nod your head as you rub your neck.

“oh, you gotta’ meet them at some point soon, they’ve been dying to get to know you! my mate has this whole dinner planned so you can meet all the other mates too!” he cheerfully informs you. if he was in his wolf form, he’d definitely be wagging his tail. “we’re all excited to have you back.”

you glance at him. asher is already looking back at you. the numbers on the elevator wall suddenly look so appealing. “thanks, ash.”

the doors open and you lead him into your apartment. he’s already here so you might as well play that game. as he sets it up on your console, you grab him a drink. it’s awkward for you as you sit and wait.

“by the way, who was that guy?” he suddenly asks as he hands you a controller.

you freeze. “what guy?”

asher laughs a little, “y’know, the guy you were just with outside. with the cowboy accent.” he blinks at you before he raises a brow. “wait, was he some booty call? damn, it’s not even midnight, you guys work fast—”

“he is not some—ugh, no, asher, that’s… that’s sam.” you admit to him.

he stares at you as you stare at the menu screen. “‘sam’? as in, the vampire who’s helping you?”

“yeah, i just wanted to talk to him about what was going on.” you say shortly.

asher nods his head as he goes through the instructions with you in quiet. the music from the game sound off at a low volume due to the time, but it’s a type of quiet that puts you at ease.

“so are you two fuckin’ or what?”

you slap his arm with furrowed brows. “get out of my apartment, asher.”

he begins to laugh a little, “what? c’mon, you gotta tell me! i didn’t know you had a thing for cowboys—”

“we’re not—god, asher…” you feel so embarrassed thinking about how he witnessed you and sam say ‘goodbye’. though it wasn’t even that bad, the implications he was making were wildly out of reach. “i don’t think of him like that.”

“oh really? ‘cause david said—”

“david’s a liar!”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

“i’m telling him you said that.”

you begin the game.

“don’t tell david i said that.”

he ended up leaving your apartment at 12am with a teasing grin and hopes to continue your game together.

a few days later, you had promised david that you would go on an afternoon jog with him since it was his day off and his mate was at work. he wanted a little tour around your block for a change, but you knew it was just so he could make sure the area was safe for you.

the park was deemed a good place to rest for a second and catch your breath. trailing behind david was definitely a workout. you hadn’t trained with him in years, subsequently forgetting that he lived and breathed the gym. while you weren’t any stranger to the idea, you more-so worked out at home in the spare room you turned into a home gym. it was nothing compared to david’s routine, though.

you had noticed that his scent had changed, just slightly. a new washing detergent, or something. when you commented on it, he claimed that his mate insists on doing their washing and changed the detergent they used. you say that it smells nice anyway.

“asher said you called me a liar last night.”

“that’s little…” you scowl as you tie your shoelaces, “he was just saying shit. and he dropped in on me at 10pm.”

“what were you guys talking about?” he asks as he opens his water bottle.

you’re hesitant to tell him and he notices. david already has an inkling on what you and sam were, but in truth there was no label to put on it. it didn’t matter what you felt, only what was true.

“just about the pack meeting,” you say at first but you notice david’s raised brow that makes your resolve crumble, “and sam…”

“so that’s it, then? what does that have to do with me being a liar?” he questions.

“you told him that sam was the one who told you about quinn and me being back,” you huff as you wipe the sweat off your forehead, “and now he thinks we’re—ugh…”

“sleeping together?” he finishes.

“yeah.” you huff.

“well, are you not?” he huffs back.

“no!” you scowl, standing back up with your arms crossed, “let’s just go now.”

“it doesn’t matter if you are,” david reiterates as he begins to jog behind you, “we couldn’t care less what you two do, just as long as it doesn’t endanger you or the pack.”

“we are not sleeping together,” you groan as you look back at the pack alpha, “sam just comes over and checks up on me or to tell me shit about quinn.”

“hm, is that so?” you see him begins to jog in line with you. his tone makes you squint your eyes at him. “he told me that he had to come over and save your ass once. bleeding out on the couch and everything.”

“only because i let him save me,” you state, “i could’ve healed myself.”

“we both know you’re about as good as asher when it comes to healing magic.” david claims. he dodges your heated glare. “you know i don’t think sam’s trouble.”

“i know, david…” you mumble under your breath.

he continues your jog without another word on it. you’re thankful; david at least had half the mind to notice when you were done with the conversation.

unfortunately, asher didn’t, which is why david holds you back from hitting him in the head when you two see not only the beta, but milo waiting outside your apartment building as well.

“a cowboy? really, tank?” milo grumbles with crossed arms.

“what’re you talking about, jersey boy?” you scoff back as you reluctantly let the three pack members into the apartment building, “what are you two doing here? again, asher?”

“hey, milo wants to see the southern vamp!” asher chuckles as the elevator door opens. before he can continue, david nudges his rib to shut him up, allowing your unempowered neighbours leave the elevator and make way for you four. in the safety of the elevator, he continues. “when is sam coming over again?”

“i’m not telling you! you’ll just drag these two back here to catch us!” you claim, already feeling a buzz of embarrassment in the air.

“doin’ what, huh?” milo nudges you gently with a sly smirk, “what do you two get up to?”

“nothing!” you claim.

“they hugged last night!” asher shakes your shoulders vigorously, to which david pries the beta’s hands off you. “can you believe it?”

“no fuckin’ way, he hugged you and got to keep his limbs?” milo laughs out as the doors open. they follow you to your apartment. you silently wondered what your neighbours thought about you letting four different men into your apartment at such different times. “goddamn, he’s got guts.”

the three of them had only seen your apartment a handful of times, but the older and youngest seemed to act like they had been there the whole time. your pantry is raided of your snacks and and your fridge rid of your drinks. david warned them to slow down.

“i’ve never seen anyone else get that close to you,” milo points out as he sips from a can, “you into him?”

“you guys are crazy,” you scoff as you shake your head and move passed milo to the fridge, “i’ve known him for like… three months.”

“david fell in love with his mate when he first met them.” asher juts a thumb out to their alpha, to which he grumbles under his breath. “it’s not bad if you’re into him.”

“i’m not.” you sigh as drink from your bottle of water.

“so how come you got that wretched piece of clothing sittin’ on your couch?” milo questions as he makes his way to the said place. he picks up the flannel by the collar with a judging look. “doesn’t smell like ya’. vamps have that certain kinda’ scent, don’t they?”

“tank, there’s nothing wrong with being… involved with sam,” david says again with crossed arms over his chest, “just be safe.”

“you’re taking this out of proportion,” you let our a dry laugh as you grab the flannel from milo’s hands and toss it onto the solo seat in the corner, “our relationship is purely transactional.”

“and by ‘transactional’, you mean—”

“ash, ew.”

“just admit to us that you like the cowboy vampire and we’ll be outta’ your hair.” asher giggles out with some schoolboy listening to gossip in the locker rooms. “i didn’t get a good look at him, though, is he sexy?”

“ash!” you grumble out in protest.

“remember the guy they had a crush on in high school?” david inputs from his seat at your counter, “the one from the band?”

“oh yeah!” milo joins in, “the drummer, right? he was pretty cute then, i remember tank gettin’ all flustered whenever he would invite them to watch their practice.”

“don’t even start.” you warn.

“and they accidentally shifted when he came up to us on our way to school!” asher’s voice makes you rush over to him and slam your fist against his back. “ow! and—and we had to tell him that they were the new school mascot!”

their laughter voids into the room, which makes you grow more aggravated. with a middle finger, you exit the area.

“i’m gonna’ take a shower and by the time i’m done, your mess is cleaned up and you are all out of here,” you huff as you turn away to your room, “thanks, david.”

“you’re welcome,” he replies, “let’s go, guys.”

you hear their whines to not leave until you shut your door and grab a towel. the shower you took definitely calmed your down a little more and refreshed you after your jog with david.

one of the reasons sam had visited you so often was also due to your injuries facing other vampires. your last wound, a deep scratch on the right side of your torso, was still yet to heal properly. you didn’t want to tell this to the others, though, that you weren’t fully healed. they would pry further and you weren’t fully ready to speak to them.

your shower finishes and you change into new clothes when you walk into your bedroom again, your phone ringing on your bedside table. walking over, you notice the three-lettered name.

“hello?”

“hey, sorry for the abrupt call,” sam’s voice comes through your device, making you stand up a little straighter, “i tried textin’, but i wasn’t gettin’ any answers. i’m outside your apartment, darlin’.”

“you’re what?” you jump into action, rushing out your bedroom into the kitchen and living room area. luckily, you’re met with silence and no sign of the boys. the sun had just gone down; did he come over as soon as he could?

“yeah, i’m outside. you didn’t hear me knock?” sam asks.

“i was in the shower, i’ll let you in.” you hang up immediately and, using your towel, try to shake out the rest of the water from your head. you prayed to whoever that the boys had left as soon as you got into the shower, and they didn’t bump into sam. taking a deep breath, you open the door with your towel around your neck. “hi.”

“hey, darlin’,” sam chimes with the same smile as always; you’d think he was trained for this, “sorry ‘bout all this.”

“oh, no it’s fine,” you wave it off and let him inside, “what were you here for?”

“to drop these off for ya’,” he says and he places a couple of medicine pills and supplies on the counter, “for the one on your side. hopefully it’ll help it heal better.”

you look at each of the items. “oh, um, thank you.” you sheepishly say.

“do you mind if i… take a quick look?” he worriedly mutters out.

no matter how many times he asks, you always get a bit heated up. you clear your throat and sit on the counter seats, gently lifting up the side of your loose shirt.

you hear sam inhale sharply at the sight. he warns you about his touch, to which you allow. “it’s still bad, but… it’s definitely gettin’ better.”

“you think so?” you mutter out.

“yep,” he says, tugging your shirt back down to cover it up, “still as strong as ever, ain’t ya’?”

you let out a small chuckle before sam begins to go through what each item does for your health. while only half listening, you can only stare at him and the crease of his brows as he explains everything. sure enough, he was in a flannel and some jeans. you begin to think about asher’s question from earlier. did you find him attractive?

“you listenin’, darlin’?” he speaks up, snapping you out of your trance.

“huh? oh yeah, i was,” you falsely state, “thank you.”

“mhm.” he huns with a knowing smile. it falters for a moment before he looks to the wall by the tv. “you hear that?”

“hear what?” you stand again and tilt your head. “i didn’t hear anything. it’s probably my neighbour’s cat rummaging around. i hear it sometimes at night.”

“huh. okay.” sam shrugs it off as what you said. his sense of hearing was impressive, as you’ve noted since that time he heard you let out a sharp gasp after trying to replace some bloodies bandages on your own while he was in the kitchen. “what did you get up to today?”

“went on a jog with david,” you say, to which sam immediately stands up straight, “got some paperwork to get through, like contracting and some stuff. that’s about it. you?”

“one of the newborns is still hesitant on feeding, as you’d expect. vincent and i are tryna’ ease ‘em through it, but it takes a toll, y’know?” he claims as he rubs his neck, “the thought if you came to mind when i passed the infirmary. just imagined that you’d need some more help with that one.”

you find his words to be like honey. sweetens your bitter taste, but in a different way to everyone else.

“that’s kind of you. oh that reminds me, you left your shirt here,” you claim as you walk to the couch to retrieve it, but you find nothing, “huh… i must’ve misplaced it.”

“it’s fine, i’ll get it another day.” he waves his hand dismissively.

“did you want a drink or something?” you offer with a small smile, “gotta’ warn you, though, no tennessee whiskey.”

“hardy har, that’s a good song and you know it,” he rolls his eyes at your joke and he shakes his head, “i’d love to stay, but vincent needs some help with surveillance at wonderworld. we’re hoping to not catch another shifter tryna’ get into trouble.”

“oh, so now you’re funny?” you laugh along with him as you escort him to the door, “see you on thursday, then.”

“yes, til then.” he hums out sweetly to you. as he stands in the door way, he reaches out to grab the towel and wipe some water droplets off your cheek. “rest easy, darlin’. wanna’ see your face on thursday.”

his smile is the last thing you see as he walks off into the elevator, waving at you, and you close the door. leaning your head against the wood, you groan quietly to yourself.

and after a few seconds, you sigh, “shit…”

then, out bursts asher and milo from the coats closet beside you.

“I KNEW IT!” asher screams so loud that you nearly sock him in the face before realising it was him, “YOU HAVE A THING FOR ERRON BLACK!”

“don’t call him that, ash, he’s not a game character,” david groans from around the corner, the hallway to your room, “can’t believe you can stand to not talk for that long.”

“i can’t believe they were so obviously swoonin’ over the southerner but won’t admit it,” milo chimes in with his hands on his hips, “so that’s the vamp that’s got ya’ in a headlock, huh? could probably smell the desperation on ya’.”

he waves the flannel in your face, to which you snatch out of his hands and put on the couch again. “i thought i told you guys to get out.”

“milo’s right, who knew the guy had charms like that? got ol’ tank leaning against the door like ‘oh my goodness, he’s so handsome and sexy and his accent, ah!’.” asher over exaggerates your vocal tone. you have to hold yourself back from shifting and tearing his head off. “so dramatic.”

“you’re dramatic.” you scowl in embarrassment.

“alright, that’s enough,” david waves his hands between the both of you, “let’s leave tank alone. they have their own feelings to sort out.”

“there’s nothin’ to ‘sort out’, they definitely like him!” milo claims as he’s getting ushered out the door with asher not too far behind, complaining the same, “this ain’t over, tank! i wanna’ know this guy’s wardrobe!”

“tell us all the hot details, ha!” asher’s last words makes you cover your face in your hands. so annoying!

“hey,” david’s calm demeanour pulls through, “take your time with it. you know you’re allowed to do these kinda’ things.”

he gives you a short ruffle on the head before he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

you’re left with your own thoughts again. and the overwhelming feeling of asher finally being right about something first.

you were most definitely into that cowboy vampire.

[slcmml]

tech support! charlie & reader — you turn my software into hardware.

you hate making phone calls.

absolutely despise it, actually. something about talking to a stranger, especially for customer support, makes your skin crawl. but your laptop is acting up, and after scouring the internet for a solution and coming up empty handed, you seemingly have no other choice. so, you dial the number, swallow your nerves, and wait.

“hello! this is charlie from tech co’s customer support! how can i help you today?”

you weren’t expecting the voice on the other end to sound so… cute?

it’s warm, gentle, and just a little scratchy, like he’s been talking all day but still has patience to spare. suddenly, making this phone call doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

“hi, um. yeah. my laptop isn’t working? i mean, obviously, that’s why i’m calling, but, uh, it won’t turn on, and i have no idea why.”

“gotcha! let’s see if we can get that fixed for you!”

his voice is so reassuring you almost forget you’re actually supposed to be fixing something.

he walks you through the steps, patient as ever while you fumble through them. when you press the wrong button, he gently corrects you. when you let out a frustrated groan, he laughs—not in a mean way, but like he finds you endearing. and god, it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“it’s okay, take your time! i’m here to help, promise.”

and help he does.

except at some point, your laptop starts working again, but you don’t want tell him.

“huh? still not working? that’s weird.”

you lie straight through your teeth just to keep talking to him. it’s shameless, really, but you don’t even care. he’s kind, patient, and his voice is the nicest thing you’ve heard all day. so you keep up the act just a little longer, drawing out the conversation until there’s truly nothing left to say.

“well, i’m glad i could help! and if you need anything else, you know where to call.”

oh, you do. and you’re already thinking about it.

“you’ve been super helpful, by the way,” you say, hesitating just a little before asking, “um, what’s your name? so i can leave a good review?”

“oh! yeah, of course. it’s charlie.”

charlie. yeah, that suits him.

“thanks, charlie. i really appreciate it.”

“anytime.”

—

you call back the next day.

you shouldn’t. there is no reason to. your laptop is fine, perfectly fine, but—

“hello! tech support, how can i help you?”

your heart sinks for a second before you realize it’s not charlie.

“oh, um,” you stammer, scrambling for an excuse. “i, uh, had an issue with my laptop the other day, and i wanted to follow up? i think the guy who helped me was named charlie?”

“oh, charlie! yeah, give me a sec, i’ll transfer you over.”

your stomach does a whole flip before you hear the click of the line transferring.

“hello?”

oh, thank god.

“hey, charlie,” you say, and you hope he doesn’t hear the stupid little smile in your voice. “it’s me. again.”

“oh, hey! did something go wrong with your laptop?”

“yeah, it’s, uh. still kinda acting up.”

lie.

“oh no,” he says, immediately concerned. “what’s it doing now?”

you make something up on the spot, some vague, convoluted problem that doesn’t actually exist, but he still goes along with it. walks you through another set of steps, laughs ok when you struggle, and just—keeps talking to you.

and this time, you swear he’s stalling, too.

—

it becomes a thing. you call every couple of days with some tech issue you made up, and he never questions it, just helps you like normal and talks to you like he’s actually happy to hear your voice. (spoilers: he is)

until the one time you say, “ugh, this laptop hates me,” and he hums thoughtfully before going, “you know, for a laptop that’s given you this many problems, you sure seem to like using it.”

does this mean he knows?

“what?” you say, playing dumb.

“i mean, you’ve had, what, like five different issues this week?” he teases. “i’m starting to think you just like calling tech support.”

heat rushes to your face. “okay, first of all,” you say, indignant. “it was three times.”

“mmhm.”

“second of all,” you start, then stop. because what is your second point? that he’s right? that you do like calling tech support? or, more specifically, that you like calling him?

“whatever,” you mumble instead, hoping he can’t hear how flustered you are.

but if the way he’s laughing is any indication, he totally can.

—

a week later, you take it one step further.

you don’t call this time. you show up.

you made a small google search to find the address of tech co, the store he works at, before stepping inside with a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing under your skin. you don’t even know what he looks like, but somehow, you just know when you see him.

he’s standing behind the counter, light brown hair, slightly messy, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. he’s cuter than you imagined—not just cute, but like, unfairly pretty. and when his eyes meet yours, shining with kindness, you know you made the right call.

“hi,” you say, leaning onto the counter.

“hey,” he says back, smiling. “fancy seeing you here.”

“yeah, well. my laptop broke again,” you say, suppressing a grin.

he raises an eyebrow. “oh, did it now?”

“yeah.. completely fried. tragic, really.”

“oh, so tragic,” he echoes, playing along.

you both know you’re full of shit. neither of you really care.

“so,” he leans in just a little, resting his arms on the counter, closer to you. “now that i’ve seen you in person, should i expect more tech issues? or was this a one time thing?”

you laugh, feeling a little bold. “you think i’d come to your job just to say it’s a ‘one time thing’?”

“i hope not,” he says with a slightly nervous smile.

your heart flips. he’s so cute.

“well, it’s not,” you say, mustering all your courage. “‘cause, you know, i’ve got a real issue that could use your help.”

his grin widens. “mmhm. and what would that be?”

“i need your number. y’know, in case of emergency. i mean, what if my laptop explodes?”

he blinks.

then he laughs—soft, surprised, pleased—before pulling a receipt from the register and scribbling something on it.

when he slides it over, his fingers brush yours, and you think, yeah. totally worth it.

© slcmml

[afterdarkzone]

Teeth and Tongues

14 Days With You fic. RenXAngel/MC. Angel is unnamed, uses they/them pronouns, and is afab. Angel is not described in detail. Contains marking kink and oral sex. Use of the word cunt. Not Beta'd or thoroughly proofread.

[Name] observed themselves in the mirror after having a shower. Finding themself covered in marks after a night with Ren was nothing new, but this time he'd left a few in more prominent places that would be a pain to cover for work tomorrow if they didn't fade. Then a brilliant idea came to them. They left the bathroom to find their boyfriend filled with a slightly sadistic determination. 

Ren was casually waiting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. As if sensing [Name] approach, he looked up while they were still a few steps away. 

"Do you feel better after your shower?" He asks sweetly.

[Name] snuggles into Ren's lap before answering. Damn this man for being so cuddly. He puts his arms around them automatically.

"I feel cleaner," they respond carefully. Before Ren can respond, [Name] gently holds his face and pulls him into a kiss. It's a sweet and loving gesture at first. [Name]'s hands trail from Ren's face to his hair. Before they can let themselves get too carried away, they grip his hair firmly and pull just hard enough to get his attention. The erotic moan he lets out is a nice bonus though.

[Name] uses their grip on his head to keep his gaze on them as they pull away from the kiss to speak

"You were a bad boy, Ren. You left marks I couldn't cover up without my permission."

Ren's face is entertaining. He's simultaneously scared, confused, and, judging from the blush on his face, a little aroused too. 

His arms seem to subconsciously tighten their hold on them as he apologizes,"I-I'm sorry, Angel. I d-didn't mean to. Let me m-make it up to you p-please?"

"Oh, you're going to make it up alright. I've already decided your punishment," [Name] removes one of thei hands from his hair to gently stroke his cheek, as if removing some of the bite from their tone, "Now, are you going to be a good boy for me and do as I say?" 

Ren tries to nod, but the hand still firmly gripping his hair thwarts the attempt, forcing him to use his words,"Yes, yes! I-I'll be good!"

[Name] takes a moment scanning Ren's face, perhaps guaging his sincerity. They remove the hand from his face to rest it gently on his shoulder instead. They reward him with a small kiss before issuing their commands.

"Hands down by your side. You're not allowed to touch me until I say so."

Ren frowns as he slowly puts his arms back down at his sides. 

"Good boy," [Name] lets go of Ren's hair and repositions themselves so that their knees are on either side of his legs, "Now stay still for me."

Ren noticeably jolts when their tongue makes contact with his jaw. [Name] toys with him for a bit, tracing patterns along his jaw and exposed neck with their tongue. Judging by the noises he makes and the way he trembles, it definitely works. The surprised whiney moan he makes when they bite down on an exposed piece of his neck is just sinful. Ren's arms are trembling with the effort of staying by his side. 

[Name] makes sure to leave a nice dark mark before releasing his skin. 

"Just a few more to go, okay?" They croon sweetly in his ear before harshly sucking another mark just below it. 

"A-Angel p-please..."

"Please what? What are you asking for, baby?"

[Name] places a mark on the soft flesh of Ren's throat just above their turtleneck. More incomprehensible whining from Ren. [Name] bites another harsh mark into his neck, then a brief reprieve of gentle kisses before latching onto another spot and sucking roughly. Ren's knuckles are white where he's gripping onto the couch cushions and his poor lounge pants seem ready to burst. 

"I'm almost out of room. It's almost over, baby. You've been such a good boy so far. Just hold on," [Name] gently reassures him. He moans their name in response. 

Whether to be merciful to Ren or to themself, [Name] decides to fill the remaining space on Ren's neck with two large, dark marks instead of more smaller ones. Once they're done, [Name] showers Ren's abused neck and jaw with soft, gentle kisses before placing a final sweet kiss on his lips. 

"You were such a good boy. You held on till the end. I'm gonna reward you now, okay?"

He looks like if you pushed him any harder he'd be on the verge of tears. 

"Please, [N-Name] just let m-me touch you..."

[Name] gently pries Ren's hands from clutching the cushions for dear life, holding them in their own and guiding them to their lips to soothe them with soft kisses. When they release his hands, he immediately embraces them tightly and kisses them desperately. 

Comforting Ren had momentarily distracted [Name] from how aroused teasing him had made them and the moan they let out when he slides his tongue between their lips surprises even them. Emboldened by the positive response, he reaches down to slide up their baggy pajama shirt, only to stop his hand above their hip. He pulls away from the kiss. 

"A-are you not w-wearing underwear?" He asks, genuinely surprised. 

"No. I didn't think to put any on after my shower since my shirt is so long."

Ren lifts the shirt up to see it with his own eyes. His face turns even redder than it already was when he sees the proof firsthand. Ren takes in the marks splattered along [Name]'s lower body for a moment. There are hickies along their inner thighs and across their lower belly and bruises in the shape of his fingers across their ass and the backs of their legs where he held their body like a vice. He takes the shirt completely off and admires his handiwork on the rest of [Name]'s body. Hickies litter their neck, shoulders, and breasts like spots on a cheetah. Only two particularly hard bitemarks remain from last night, one in the crook of their neck and one perfectly framing an areola. 

"My Angel is so beautiful like this," they croon, hands back to [Name]'s body. [Name] twines their arms around Ren's neck and pulls him into another kiss, messy and passionate, the only lingering sweetness the taste of Ren's tongue on theirs. His hands shift from caressing and groping every part of them to focusing on their chest.  He is gentler than usual, gently toying with [Name]'s flesh as thumbs idly stimulate their nipples, drawing out a breathy moan into the kiss.

[Name] releases their arms from Ren's neck, one hand resting gently on the back of his head while the other trails down his body to rest on the prominent bulge in his pants. He gasps and flinches at her touch, inadvertently breaking the kiss.[Name] utilizes the newfound space between their bodies to pull Ren out of his pants and touch him wholeheartedly. He's rambling about how good it feels and how much he loves them as they stroke and caress him with both hands, making sure to hit all his favorite spots. Ren tries to reach between their legs to return the favor, but [Name] gently pushes his hand away.

"Not yet. I want to focus on you now," they rebuff, locking their eyes with his.

He whines in protest. [Name] and Ren both know he could and would get off just from making them cum if they let him. Despite their own body craving to be touched, [Name]'s desire to tease and claim Ren had yet to be sated. They sweetly kiss Ren once more before shifting to slide onto the floor in front of him. 

[Name] is not gentle when they push his legs further apart to make more room for themselves between them. They make a show of groping and sliding their hands along his thighs before carefully taking hold of his dick. Ren moans and covers his face with one arm while the other reaches out to touch whatever piece of [Name] he can reach. He ends up holding onto part of their arm. [Name] uses one hand to hold him steady while they press their tongue firmly against the base of his cock and lick a fat trail to the tip. [Name] uses their free hand to remove Ren's hand from their arm and place it on their head. His grip tightens reflexively and they moan at the pleasant tension as their tongue works against him. 

"Move your arm. I want to see your face."

"Hnn....you fe-feel so good a-already. I n-need a minute, p-please?"

"No. I don't care if you cum right now. I want you to see how much the taste of your cock turns me on and I want to watch you fall apart because of me."

Ren moans and his dick twitches in their hand as he reluctantly uncovers his face and looks down at his beloved. [Name] immediately guides his now free hand next to his other one already on their head. 

"I like it when you pull it hard," they say sweetly as they bring both hands to hold onto Ren's dick as they resume licking and slathering it in saliva like a debauched popsicle. His hips try to thrust against their lips as he grips onto their hair and resumes his usual stream of lovestruck dirty talk. [Name] takes him into their mouth, moaning at the sight of his face screwed up in pleasure. They spend a moment sucking gently and working their tongue against him as their hands take care of the parts of him their mouth can't reach. 

Ren moans loudly when [Name] adjusts their angle to take as much as they can into their mouth and starts sucking hard. His hips are twitching, trying not to thrust himself down their throat, and the way his nails dig into their scalp is sitting on that delicious line between pleasure and pain. After a while, [Name] pops off to take a deep breath, gently stroking him with their hands while their mouth is gone, and can't help fawning over how beautiful Ren is right now. For a moment, their lust is overshadowed by how much they love this man.

"Oh god...I can't take it when you look at me like that, Angel."

"Are you close?"

[Name] teasingly works their tongue along his dripping cock as they watch Ren's face and wait for his answer. 

"Yes...[Name] please let me cum..."

"I can't take you in my throat from this position, but if I hold my hand here," [Name] repositions their hand, "You should be able to move your hips how you want."

He whines as [Name] wraps their lips around him once more, licking up trails of his precum. 

"A-are you s-sure?"

[Name] makes an affirmative noise that vibrates through Ren's dick as they resume sucking and moving their mouth along his length. Ren takes the hint and sweetly caresses their cheek before regaining his iron grip on their hair and proceeding to buck his hips with abandon. 

[Name] moans around him, fighting through the haze of their own pleasure to focus on keeping their hand steady and maintaining consistent suction. 

"A-almost there, Angel. Keep moaning like that. If I knew how much you liked getting face-fucked, I would've done this sooner..."

[Name] feels Ren pulse and throb on their tongue and instinctively takes a deep breath through their nose. 

He's chanting their name in wanton desperation as he cums into their mouth and throat. [Name] can't help but moan at the sensation and struggles to not swallow it all immediately as Ren rides out his orgasm with tiny pulses against their tongue. 

[Name] gently slides Ren out of their mouth and gives him a moment before guiding him to look at them. They open their mouth and stick out their tongue, making a show of their contents, before closing their mouth and finally swallowing it all. Ren looks like his soul is about to leave his body at the show, and then [Name] opens their mouth again, revealing all of his cum now gone, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

He effortlessly pulls [Name] onto his lap and practically devours them with how fiercely he kisses them. Sometimes [Name] wonders if he likes the taste of his own cum the way he practically tongue-fucks their mouth after they go down on him. One of his hands slides between their legs,  fingers sliding easily along their drenched slit. 

[Name] moans into Ren's mouth at the touch and he toys with their wetness, prodding a finger lightly at their entrance. Ren makes a feral noise more similar to a growl than a moan as he's rewarded with love juice running down his finger and dripping into his hand. He releases [Name]'s mouth from the kiss and fixes them with a hungry, predatory stare.

"I can't believe you're literally dripping wet from just sucking my cock."

To prove his point, he removes his hand from between [Name]'s legs and locks eyes with them as he licks up the fluid coating his finger and palm. The sight makes [Name] twitch with arousal.

"Now it's my turn to have fun," he announces as he lays [Name] down on the couch. 

He lays down on his front, yanking open their legs and pulling their hips towards his face. He kisses along [Name]'s inner thighs, being gentle with the still vibrant marks from yesterday. [Name] is moaning and canting their hips in anticipation as he stops a breath away from where they want to feel his mouth and tongue. 

"You're so eager for me Angel, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm not letting you go any time soon."

[Name] swallows hard, feeling his breath against their aching cunt and knowing that he's probably going to make them cum until it hurts. The thought makes them throb with need and the way Ren grins at them before sinking between their thighs confirms their suspicions. 

They're gonna be lucky if they can walk again by tonight.

[lexawritex]

—let me take care of you

★ taking care of your girlfriend after an exhausting practice

bada x fem!reader

a/n: wrote this instead of studying for my exams

you lounged on the spacious couch, aimlessly scrolling through your phone, occasionally chuckling at random memes. the clock had just struck 11 p.m., and for some reason, sleep refused to come. maybe it was the afternoon nap that stretched too long or the lingering buzz of the coffee you drank earlier.

but really, you just wanted to be awake when your girlfriend arrived. with her practices intensifying as the competition drew closer, time together had become a rare luxury. you missed her—her presence, her warmth, even the simple act of sitting beside her in comfortable silence.

tonight, you were determined to steal at least a moment with her. even if it meant fighting off sleep, waiting until the door clicked open and she finally walked in.

time seemed to drag on but nevertheless, she's arrived.

the door clicked, followed by the sound of soft shuffles. the moment you heard it, you sprang up from the couch and jogged toward the entrance. hearing your hurried footsteps, bada looked up, and the exhaustion on her face melted into a soft smile the second she saw you.

kicking off her shoes, she wasted no time stepping into your open arms, letting out a deep sigh as she buried her face in your neck. her grip on you was firm, as if anchoring herself after a long, draining day. the warmth of your embrace was exactly what she needed.

"hmm, baby, i missed you so bad," bada whined, her grip on you tightening.

you chuckled at her adorable demeanor, your fingers gently threading through her slightly damp hair. she smelled like sweat and a hint of her perfume, but you didn’t mind. if anything, it only reminded you how hard she had been working.

content with the hug, bada pulled back and cradled your face in her hands, a subtle pout forming on her lips.

you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her nose.

"what now, love?" you asked, giggling at her expression.

"i miss you so much. you know we only get to see each other when one of us is asleep because of our packed schedules these days," she pouted, making you coo.

you giggled before peppering her face with soft kisses, earning a satisfied hum from her.

"you big baby, that's why i stayed up—so we can have our time together. now go and bathe yourself, you smell like sweat and hard work," you teased, playfully shooing her away.

bada pouted but eventually sighed in defeat. "fine, fine. but don't fall asleep on me, okay?"

you chuckled, shaking your head as you made your way back to the living room. "no promises!" you called out, hearing her groan dramatically before disappearing into the bathroom.

unable to hold yourself back, you quietly stepped into your shared room, only to find bada dozing off at the vanity desk, her head bobbing slightly as she fought against sleep.

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked over, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "who's the one sleeping now?" you murmured, shaking her lightly.

"oh, i'm sorry..." she rasped, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

"just sit still," you said softly. she obeyed, her tired eyes following your movements as you walked to the sink, washing your hands before returning to her.

grabbing a headband, you gently slid it onto her head, keeping her damp hair from sticking to her face. bada adjusted in her seat, allowing you to stand comfortably in front of her.

reaching for her skincare products, you took a small amount in your hands before carefully applying it to her skin, your fingers gliding over her tired features with soft, deliberate motions.

bada hummed at your soothing touch, her

hands finding their way to your hips, gently

pulling you closer. before you knew it, you

were perched on her lap, continuing her

skincare routine as she gazed at you with

tired but adoring eyes.

after finishing her skincare, you gently tapped bada’s shoulder. her tired eyes fluttered open, and she mumbled a soft, “thank you,” before letting you stand from her lap.

grabbing the blow dryer, you turned it on and carefully ran your fingers through her damp hair, working through the strands with ease. bada watched you with a sleepy smile, her gaze filled with quiet admiration.

“you’re so wifey,” she murmured, tilting her head up to look at you. “can i marry you right this instant?”

you chuckled softly, shaking your head at her playful remark. bada only grinned before falling silent, her eyes growing heavier as she melted under the soothing sensation of your fingers running through her hair.

with bada's hair now dry, you gently combed through her long locks before tapping her awake. her eyes fluttered open, and without hesitation, she pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

pulling back slightly, her voice came out in a tender whisper.

"thank you, baby."

you smiled, fingers instinctively threading through her hair.

"anytime, love."

her smile widened at your words, a warmth spreading through her chest. no matter how many times you used sweet endearments, they never failed to make her feel like a lovestruck teenager experiencing her first romance.

"seriously, you're making my heart do acrobatics," bada groaned, placing a hand over her chest dramatically.

you laughed at her analogy, shaking your head. "come on, let's go to bed. you still have practice tomorrow."

her face scrunched up in protest, letting out a small whine. "ugh, don't remind me."

despite her complaints, she still followed you to bed, wrapping her arms around you the moment you laid down. your back pressing against her front.

"you'll be there when we perform, right?" bada asked, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

you shifted to face her, meeting her gaze with a reassuring smile. "of course. i’ve already cleared my calendar for that special day."

bada's lips curled into a wide smile before she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss against yours. when she pulled back, the happiness in her expression was undeniable.

"then every exhausting practice will be worth it," she murmured.

you nodded, snuggling closer into her warmth. "i can't wait to see you shine."

"i love you."

"i love you most."

[some-kindof-cryptid]

Heart of Hearts 3 ♥️♦️

Summary - To cap off the worst year of her life, Kutsuki Hotaru is thrown into an unknown world where everyone in Tokyo has disappeared. She's forced to play games to survive and dark memories catch up to her. Can some coincidental encounters with someone from her real life help her escape from the Borderlands?

CW/TW - violence, blood

Chapter 3 - MEMORIES思い出

Masterlist

A/N - when my wife lived in Japan, the Hachiko statue was a common meet up spot for the friend group :)

There was no time to mourn those who had died. There was barely time to breathe. This place didn't care about the people trapped there. That much was obvious. Despite that, this place wasn’t the enemy; the people were.

And that's where Hotaru found herself. Running for her life from a group of men. She'd stepped out of a game arena and as she was putting the new card in her pack, they attacked.

Blood covered her mouth and ran down her front. She turned to see the four of them losing speed. Taking advantage of their slowing pace she makes a hard turn into an alleyway.

Her pounding footsteps are the only thing she can hear as she sprints down the dilapidated alley. She takes note of a corpse out of the corner of her eye before she was pulled roughly to the left. A hand presses against her mouth as she's shoved into a wall.

Her eyes dart around frantically, trying to adjust to the deeper darkness of the building. She can see that they're in a hallway that opens at either end into a larger room she couldn't see. They finally land on a familiar face in front of her, his finger held to his lips. Thudding footsteps pass by the open doorway before disappearing out of the alley.

Hotaru shoves the blonde's hand away, more blood spilling from her mouth. Something drops from her hand. Her legs buckle and she falls to her knees.

"Is that an ear?" He asks, almost sounding amused.

Before she can reply she's doubled over vomiting a mix of more blood and what little was left in her stomach. She staggers a few steps before laying down on the dirty floor. Her entire body shakes, heart pounding.

"Yes," she answers simply, throwing her arm over her eyes.

He crouches next to her, holding out a bottle of water, "Here."

She sits up, eyeing him suspiciously, "Are you following me?"

He shrugs, "Not intentionally."

After giving him a weary look she takes the bottle, gargling and spitting out her first drink. She takes a few more big gulps before wiping her face with her sleeve. The blood was starting to dry on her skin, making her itch.

"What are you doing here, then?"

He sits next to her, "I just finished a game and saw you running, I didn't want to have to listen to you scream if they caught you."

His voice was calm, and it made a cold chill run through her, "Thank you, even if you were just saving me to save your ears," she glances at the ear next to the door, "That's one of theirs. He had me against a wall and I bit it off, in case you were wondering."

"I was curious, actually," he replies, grinning. "People here seem to forget they're humans."

She nods, keeping her eyes forward, "We've met three times now, can I know your name or are you intentionally trying to be mysterious?"

He thinks for a moment before leaning back against the wall behind them, "Chishiya."

A jolt of familiarity runs through her as she turns to look at him, "Chishiya Shuntaro?"

Chishiya meets her eyes, his eyebrows raised, "If I am?"

"I know you!" She laughs in shock, "My mom, she's a nurse. She works with you all the time and…"

"And?"

"She told me all about you, she wanted to introduce us a few times."

🃏

"Mom, I have to go. I can't play matchmaker today," Hotaru says, rolling her eyes and looking back at her phone.

Her mother grabs her hand, "Hotaru, I'm not playing matchmaker-"

She opens her mouth in mock shock, "Liar!"

"Okay, okay," she waves her hand, "Hotaru honey you can't stay at that place forever, he's your age and he's a doctor. He's very quiet but kind and-"

"Nurse Ito, report to the fourth floor, please," a voice booms over the pa system, "Nurse Ito to the fourth floor."

"Well, you better get going, Mom. You might miss your surgery," she turns to leave, but her mother grabs her hand again.

Her eyes pleaded with her daughter, "It doesn't have to be him, Hotaru. Just promise me you'll find someone and be happy."

She was stunned for a moment, "Okay, Mom. I promise I'll find happiness," they hug, "And you can introduce us some other time, okay? But we both really have to go."

They say their goodbyes before they go their separate ways. Hotaru dials her boss's number before pressing the phone to her ear. She mumbles a quick sorry as she bumps into someone.

"Kutsuki!" A voice cheers from her phone, "What do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you send a car, we need to talk."

🃏

"I remember her, she could talk through an entire six-hour surgery."

Hotaru laughs genuinely for the first time in a long while, "That's her specialty. She wouldn't shut up about you for a while actually. It was pretty annoying."

"Most of what she talked about to me was you as well."

"At that point, I was avoiding you out of spite," she lets out a dry laugh, "Pretty ironic that this is where we'd finally meet. I was even going to medical school to work with her."

"You would've had to have covered your tattoos then."

"How do you think I even got in? I can be pretty sneaky."

His eyes stay forward but she can see a smile creep onto his face. A silence settles over them, "Why are you alone?" He asks finally.

There's a pang of grief in her stomach as she looks away, "Imai, my friend, he died during the tag game."

"Ah, I see," there's another pause, "Did you know each other in the real world?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

His eyes lower to the floor, "No reason, I guess I'm just curious. Or bored," his expression is unreadable.

Her eyes follow as he stands, "You're bored. I'm not a very interesting person."

"We'll probably see each other again," he says, his back to her, "So, I'll see you then, Kutsuki."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

Without another word, Chishiya disappears into the alley.

🃏

The building, as it turned out was a cafe in the real world. Now rotten food sat on the tables, but there was still bottled water and other drinks behind the counter. She also found some packaged food that was safe enough to eat.

After eating, Hotaru’s body all but shuts down. Her limbs are heavy and her eyes keep shutting. She goes to the back of the cafe and clears out one of the cabinets in the kitchen, laying a tablecloth in it. Shutting the door behind her, she sleeps.

Hotaru sleeps until the sun is setting the next day. Her body screams in protest as she climbs out of her hiding spot. She stretches and almost every one of her joints pop. Groaning, she fills up a tote bag with food and water. Those bastards from yesterday had taken her backpack and the pack on her belt didn’t hold much.

With her visa still at six days, she wants to take a break from playing games. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but she knew she wouldn’t make it if she didn't give her body a break. After a lot of thought, she decides to explore the city. She’d lived in Tokyo for most of her life, but when would she get the chance to explore it without thousands of people around?

First is her favorite spot in Tokyo, luckily it was nearby. Hotaru had always been a sort of strange child. There were many reasons, but her father always said that the weirdest thing about her was that her favorite place in Tokyo was the Hachiko statue at Shibuya station.

Hotaru sits on the warm concrete in front of the bronze sculpture. She didn't remember why the statue was so special to her. Her mother said that when she first heard about Hachiko as a young child she became obsessed with him. Apparently, she would drag her family to Shibuya at least once a week, even when her mom lived outside of Tokyo.

As an adult, it was just comforting. It was such a big part of her childhood due to her hyper fixation. His cute face staring at her made her almost feel safe.

She undoes the last of her braid, running her fingers through her now-wavy hair. A low rumble makes her head snap around. It continually grows louder, until she can see headlights coming toward her. She scrambles to collect her things and hides behind the statue.

A car pulls into the crossing, and she can see at least five men inside. Two of them hung out the window and she couldn't help but notice the large guns they carried. She shrinks back and clutches her bag to her chest. Car doors slam and she can hear the men talking to each other excitedly.

She shuts her eyes and breathes deeply, "Now what are you doing here all alone?"

Hotaru freezes, ice shooting through her veins. She slowly opens her eyes and turns to the source of the voice. A man stood over her, an assault rifle over his shoulder. His shoulder-length black hair was half tied up and he had a nose and eyebrow piercing.

He yanks her up by her arm and calls out to the other men, "Look what I found!" The two men outside of the car walk forward to meet them in the middle.

"She looks in good shape," one of them says, looking her up and down.

Her heart races but she keeps her body still, "Do you have any cards, honey?" The first man asks, throwing his arm over her shoulders.

She gives him a steely glare, "Cards?"

Another car door opens before a familiar voice calls out, "Kutsuki,"

She turns and the feeling of seeing a familiar face overwhelms her, "Hatter?" Before she knows it, she's wrapping her arms around the man. Something she never thought she would do.

He wraps one arm around her, "She's coming with us," he announces, "Welcome back to the beach, Kutsuki."

[spacejammie-eimmajecaps]

The first three scenes of chapter 30 are basically done, two more to go

[treesah]

I’m starting the day on hold with Verizon for 53 minutes because my grandparents’ landline has been down since at least Monday (maybe longer; it was only discovered when I called them to get buzzed in to their building). Verizon techs were apparently out there twice, did not fix the issue, and instead charged my grandparents $102 for a FiOS installation, which my grandparents say did not happen and which I can tell did not happen because their account doesn’t show a start in FiOS service.

My grandparents, by the way, do not speak English and I specifically set up the appointments and notified the building’s Chinese-speaking social worker so she could be there for interpretation if needed. It appears Verizon showed up HOURS late to both appointments, after she’d already left for the day. If Verizon hoodwinked and bullied two nonagenarian non-English-speakers into signing up for something without fully explaining with an interpreter what they were signing up for I am going to scream.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAGE.

[fingertipsmp3]

Friendship ended with google sheets, now filofax is my best friend

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[onlythebravest]

.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he couldn’t get enough.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

[thetriumphantpanda]

you'll just have to taste me | joel miller

Summary | He knows he's no good, knows it's a bad idea, you're out of bounds and should stay that way, but it's okay to test the waters, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.7K

Warnings | this is literally 1.7k of utter filth, you've been warned, it's nasty, I told you, okay? Unspecified age gap, Joel is your dad's buddy and Sarah is your friend. Joel fights with his morals but the pussy is too good. Explicit smut, JUST THE TIP, unprotected PiV, cumshot, cum eating, spit play, dirty talk, Joel talks you through it. No outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I AM SO INCREDIBLY LATE TO POST THIS, but this is my entry to @hellishjoel's HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I know it's September and this was not my original idea, but it came to me and I wrote this in less than an hour. It's filth and it's nasty and I beg you not to judge me okay? Written and edited on my phone so forgive any mistakes.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s going to hell. He’s always known it. Despite the years of his parents putting him in his Sunday best and taking him to church each week with his brother, despite his upbringing and the way he’s always tried to be the perfect southern gentleman, Joel Miller is going to hell, and the evidence in right in front of him.

You. His buddy’s daughter. His own daughter’s friend. The bane of his existence for the whole damn summer, with your short dresses and flirty eyes and the way you make him laugh and the way he’s wanted you since you waltzed back into town, masters degree under arm, with one purpose which seemed to be to turn him on at every possible opportunity.

It’s been bubbling for weeks. You’d caught him in the corridor during movie night with Sarah, whilst she was downstairs microwaving popcorn and he’d had no choice but to kiss you, your lips drenched in something that tasted like mango and made him dizzy. Then, at the annual neighbourhood cookout, when you’d dropped a fork and bent over to pick it up, flashing him those skimpy panties as you did, he’d had no choice then but to drag you upstairs and teach you a lesson, ten sharp slaps on your pert ass and strong words that you needed to stop. He doesn’t doubt you went home that night and shoved three fingers into your cunt and dreamt of him as you came.

But now, it’s all real. Sarah’s gone back to college, your parents back to work, and you have nothing lined up until you start getting invited to interview for positions that you’d applied to with a slew of applications about two weeks ago. It’s why you’re on his bed, it’s why he’s left Tommy on site on his own, and why you’re bare as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely, pussy on display as he stands at the foot of his bed and contemplates whether he really should do this.

“Y’scared, old man?” You tease, one hand trailing down your body, two fingers spreading the swollen lips of your cunt, middle finger dipping inside.

He can see the webbing of slick you drag from yourself, finger slow as it circles your clit. His eyes can’t miss the way your hole flutters as you touch yourself, like it’s begging to be filled, begging to be filled by his throbbing cock that he’s currently fisting in his hand.

“Ain’t scared,” He mutters, “Y’sure you wanna do this?”

You don’t speak in response, just dip two fingers back into your weeping cunt and start fucking yourself with them. He squeezes his cock a little tighter in his hand, feeling the weeping of pre-cum at his tip as he watches.

“Ain’t no comin’ back from this.” He muses, moving forward, knees on the mattress, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his thighs.

“Want you,” Is all he hears from your mouth as his cock rests on your pussy, hot and heavy against your skin, “Want your cock, Joel.”

He thrusts his hips a little at that, dragging his length through the soaking folds of your cunt, head rubbing against the swollen bud of your clit.

“Y’sure?” He asks, continuing the rub of his cock, “It’s all over then, baby,” He coos, “I’ll ruin ya.”

“Good,” You groan out, hips shifting to try and catch his tip at your entrance, to try and get exactly what you want, “I want it, Joel, I want it bad.”

“Y’know what I think?” He asks, looking down at you, stopping his movements and opting to circle your clit with his thumb instead, “I reckon we need t’make sure.”

“I am-” You try and protest, but he’s shushing you.

“I reckon,” He says slowly, bringing the tip of his cock to press to your weeping core, “It don’t count if it’s just the tip,” He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, not enough to sink inside, but enough that he’s already had a taste of what you’ll feel like around him, “Just the tip baby, and then we’ll know.”

He looks down at you and he can see your wild eyes, the way you nod your head against the mattress. You’re such a good girl for him, taking whatever he’ll give you, so he does just that. With three fingers on the base of his cock, he lets the tip of him push inside you, just enough that the head of his cock is nestled inside you, and he knows he’s fucked.

You’re tight and you’re warm and you’re breathing and whimpering for him, and those perfect walls are clenching around him so right and so good that it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove his cock all the way in and damn you both to hell.

“Jesus girl,” He breathes, one hand clutching at your hip to hold you still, “Fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

You don’t speak back to him, it’s all you can do to lie and try not to writhe too much as he starts his shallow thrusts. The head of his cock popping from your wet cunt and then being sucked back in so perfectly. He’s had his fair share of women since Sarah went to college and he knows he’s a lot to take, knows that he knows what he’s doing too, but when he looks down at you, your eyes tilted back in your skull, cunt squeezing him just right, he can’t help but think this is what he’s been missing.

“That good?” He asks, bringing his thumb back to your clit, swirling wetness across it as he continues the shallow thrusts of his hips.

“Want it all,” You grumble, “Can take it all, Joel.”

“Ain’t got a doubt,” He teases, but doesn’t relent, “But we gotta make sure.”

He wants to lean down, wants to cover your body with his own and suck one of your perfect nipples into his mouth, but he knows the minute he does you’ll beg him so nice and he’ll break, so he resists, swirling his thumb across your clit with more purpose now.

“M’gonna-” You choke out, and he knows, he can feel it, the way you’re fluttering and tightening around the head of his cock so perfectly, “Gonna come, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He asks ruefully, “Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He smiling down at you as your mouth drops open, your cunt pulling painfully tight around him, “Go on, you can do it,” He babbles, trying to fight the tightening in his own stomach until you’ve come for him, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, by God you do, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. You whine, a high-pitched kind of thing, eyes clamping shut as you arch your back. There’s more slick around his cock than he’s ever seen before, making it easy for the tip of his cock to ease you through it. The convulsing of your walls around him bring him to his own end, using his last braincell to drag the tip from your cunt and give himself three strokes before the thick ropes of his cum are splashing across your swollen pussy. He watches where they land, painting your skin as his own as his head tips back and breathes a sigh of relief.

He know’s he should stop, but there’s something mesmerising about the mix of his cum and your own, the way he’s dripping down you and onto his sheets. His shuffles down a little and leans forward, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open, before he uses his tongue to gather the mess down there. He’s slurping at you, tasting your cunt through his cum, gathering as much of the two of you as he can in his mouth.

You’re moaning for him when his tongue flicks a few times at your sensitive bud, but then his body is over yours, weight pressed against you as one of his hands takes your chin, squeezing at your jaw to get you to open your mouth, which you do, gladly.

Joel opens his own mouth, letting his cum, your slick and his spit drop from his own into your waiting mouth. He doesn’t give you a minute to swallow anything, his tongue mixing with yours in a kiss that is messy and obscene. He can feel your hips against his own, your hot cunt pressing against him. If he was younger, he’d pin you down and fuck you again, this time for real, but all he can do is pull away.

“Swallow it,” He orders, closing your mouth and watching the bob of your throat as you do what he says, producing your tongue for him, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He unceremoniously collapses onto the bed next to you, arm over his eyes as he tries to recover some semblance of composure. He can feel your body next to his, shuffling a little closer, and then he can hear you stifling a laugh and then before long, it’s not stifled, it’s full on laughter. He takes his arm from his eyes and looks at you, and can’t help but start laughing himself, until his ribs hurt and you’ve calmed down enough, your body draped across his in the mid-afternoon glow.

“This is bad, huh?” You whisper, fingers dancing through the smattering of hair across his chest.

“Terrible, really.” He responds.

“I’m sure though,” And he holds you a little tighter at that, “Next time, I want the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry baby,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, “You can have whatever you want next time.”

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.