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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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nativegirltapes · 4 months ago

Text

pairing: toxic!rafe x sweetheart!reader

you and rafe always took 'breaks', but they never lasted. when he asked you to meet him in the middle of the night you could never say no.

you and rafe had been on your longest break yet, going on 3 weeks. and you couldn't lie, you'd been doing really good without him. but you missed him, a lot.

you didn't know why you missed him so much, it was almost like a drug you just couldn't live without despite knowing you're better off without it.

2AM, sitting in your room, music blasting through your earbuds, paging through your favorite clothing catalog; you felt your phone vibrate right next to you. thinking it was pope; the cute pogue you had recently befriended and been texting, you had a slight smile on your face.

that smile faded when you realized it was indeed not pope, but rafe. of course from some random number because you blocked him on his own.

252-###-### - It's me. Can we talk? Meet at tanneyhill in 15? PLS. I love you.

you sighed, partly of self disappointment because you knew you were going to do exactly what he wanted. but also partly from relief, this being you and rafe's longest break, you wondered what had been keeping him so busy from trying to reach out to you. on previous breaks he'd be begging to see you a few days in.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ 🍰 . .

rafe was sat on the front steps of tanneyhill, he looked stressed and upset, but really when wasn't he?

"hey," you said softly, standing in front of him, not wanting to get too close.

"hey." he looked up at you. "thanks for coming."

"yeah." your voice was full of shame. it was embarrassing how you couldn't say no to rafe. you liked to rationalize your embarrassment by convincing yourself that you were doing this for him, that he needed you and how could you say no to someone who needed you? but no, you knew deep down your relationship with rafe was self-inflicted and self indulgent. if you tried hard enough you could say no, but the thing was that you just really didn't want to. and that was the most embarrassing part.

you liked getting treated like you were everything one day, and nothing the next. the feelings rafe made you feel were ones close enough to addiction. the highs were so high, but the lows were low.

rafe patted his lap, signaling for you to come take a seat on his lap. of course you did. "i missed you," rafe placed his hand on your inner thigh.

"missed you too rafe." you were basically now bridal style in his lap, ass on one of his thighs, your legs propped up on the other, and your ams wrapped around his neck. you missed being held like this.

"yeah? how much you miss me?" he had a smirk on his face while looking at you. god he looked so good. you hated how good he always looked.

"i dont know," you giggled softly, "a lot."

"heard you been talking to that pogue," rafe looked into the distance, you could tell he was trying his best to remain calm. "what's his name? pope."

you were confused as to how he would even know that, but to be honest it was probably best you didn't know. "just texting." you immediately defend yourself. "just friendly."

"friendly huh?" rafe scoffs. "do y'know how many guys would love to be 'just friendly' with you?"

"really rafe?" you dropped your legs from his lap. only rafe would invite you over to resolve things just to start another argument.

just as you were about to get up from his lap, he pulled you back down onto it. "cmon don't leave now," rafe moved your hair to the side, leaving the side of your neck that was closest to him on full display. "was just teasin'." his hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“i don’t want to be teased.” you sighed under your breath.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to love me.” a singular tear fell down your face, rafe immediately wiping it.

“i do love you,” rafe’s voice was soft in a way you’d never heard before. “i love you more than,” you could tell he was really trying to pick his next words wisely. “i love you more than everything.” rafe kissed you on the cheek, his wet lips colliding with your wet tears.

and maybe that was also half the reason you couldn’t leave rafe. you knew that deep down aside from all the bad things he’s done to you; he has real love in his heart, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

#kind of hate this idk #toxic!rafe #sweetheart!reader #bookshelf #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader

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un-lawliet · 1 year ago

Note

WHAT IF teen!Gojo and teen!reader are best friends teetering on the edge of lovers but they get into a petty little argument and start ignoring each other right???? so reader goes on a date with someone else to be petty and Gojo internally freaks out. So, him and his friends get in disguises as Gojo tries to sabotage the date without being noticed but instead he accidentally helps the other guy look great and impressive every time💀

Geto, shoko, and Nanami don’t help Satoru. They just watch and laugh😭 good fluffy ending though pls

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !!!!! i loved this idea so so much- i kinda tweaked the request slightly but i hope this is ok <3 i love you and thank you for your patience !

“Normal”

- in which you’re on a date with someone that isn’t Gojo.

“Does this count as stalking?”

It absolutely did count as stalking.

Gojo, Shoko, Nanami and Geto were currently huddled in a dimly lit booth hunkering down as to not be seen by you…or your pompous looking date sat opposite you.

“It’s not stalking.” Gojo splutters, glaring at Geto through the top of his sunglasses, “It’s just..just-”

“You tracking Y/N down and making us watch her on a date.” Shoko muses, rolling a cigarette between her fingers, reaching for her lighter.

“Exactly!”

Nanami groans, his head falling backwards, hair falling over the curve of his eyebrows, hiding his face slightly.

Shaking his head, a small grin dances across Geto’s calm face, watching as Gojo pouts and glares at your table, eyes completely trained on your face.

“‘S’not even that good looking, she just has a thing for guys that flatter her.” He grumbles under his breath, flicking the fancy wall he leaned on.

“Think most girls enjoy feelin’ pretty Gojo.” Shoko replies, hand still feeling around in her pocket, “Oh fuck sakes, I’ve lost my lighter…Hey- Geto, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare one on ya?”

Geto nodded, tossing her a purple lighter from across the table, smiling gently as she thanked him.

“You shouldn’t smoke inside.” Nanami mutters, now staring down at the menu in-front of him, finger tracing along the prices in thought, seeming to pause on the brownie section.

“No one can see, we’re fine.” She sighs, taking a drag and blowing it towards Gojo, grinning as he dramatically clutches his chest, gasping for air.

“What’s the point of us even being here Gojo.” Nanami huffs, side eyeing the bakery stand parallel to their table.

“Because, I need to show her that this..this loser is nothing compared to me!”

“I don’t know Satoru.” Geto muses, taking a sip of his camomile, “Y/N seems pretty into him.”

“Suguru!” Gojo gasps in horror, betrayal dripping from his voice and on to the curve of his disgusted face.

Shoko wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, inhaling before continuing. “He has a point Gojo, I mean look, you ever see her smile like that?”

Gojo whips his head around to stare at you, and Shoko covers her mouth to hide a poorly restrained giggle, sharing a glance with Geto.

“I make her smile like that- She smiles like that with me!!” He whines, and Nanami rolls his eyes.

A waitress smashes a glass from behind the café’s counter, you jump slightly in your seat and turn to look over at the sound, you don’t notice the group of strange looking teenagers ducking down at your movement, concealing themselves poorly in their seats.

Your date laughs at you, you blush and turn back to him bashfully, excusing yourself for being so on edge.

Gojo glares.

“So what’s the plan then Gojo.” Nanami drawls, resting his face on his palm.

“Yes! The plan!” Gojo splutters, looking away from your pretty, pretty face to look at the three of them.

He hesitates and Shoko groans.

“You do have a plan don’t you?”

“Of course I do!..So, the plan..the plan um, well-”

“He has no plan.” Geto interrupts.

“Jesus Christ Gojo.”

“Does that mean I can leave?”

“Shut up!” Gojo exclaims, “I’m thinking give me a second would ya?”

“Nanami if your leaving I’m coming with you.”

“Wanna go now Shoko?”

“Guys!”

Gojo slumps forward in his chair, his face resting on the table as he whines.

Geto rests a hand on his back and chuckles, shaking his head at the two other sorcerers.

“It’s ok Satoru, we can all figure something out ‘kay?”

“Yea?” Gojo replies, his voice muffled by the table.

“Yea.”

Instantly, Gojo springs up, his eyes as wide as his smile.

“Ok let’s brainstorm.” Geto suggest, his voice like honey as he removes his hand from Gojo’s back and reaches back to his tea.

“What if we spill tea over him!” Gojo gasped, pointing towards the cup in Geto’s hand, a sharp look crossing his face.

“Stupid. Y/N would see us.” Shoko grumbles.

“No- See Shoko, the point of a brain storming session means we make suggestions and listen without judgement.” Gojo argues, crossing his arms.

“Yea but your idea was stupid.” Nanami concludes, watching as Shoko nods.

“You suggest something then Nanamin!”

“I’m suggesting nothing, this whole idea is foolish.”

“OoOoh “Foolish” is it?”

“I’m leaving.”

Nanami stands up reaching for his bag, scowling at Gojo.

“Hey, hey Nanami c’mon ignore him he’s just..” Geto pauses with a quick regard to Gojo, “He’s just Satoru.”

“An idiot.” Shoko chimes.

“Yes, an idiot.”

Nanami sighs as he sits down, placing his brown bag back at his feet reluctantly ignoring Gojo’s grin.

“…What if we trip up the waitress as she’s bringing them their food.” Shoko suggests, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“That could work!”

“No, Satoru, that just causes trouble to the waiting staff.”

“And?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “We don’t need to cause anyone any trouble just because you’re too afraid to just ask Y/N out.”

“I am not afraid!” Gojo moans, putting his face in his hands.

“Uh huh, that’s why you fell out with her when she told you about the date.” Shoko laughs, wiping off ash from her arm.

“What was I supposed to do?” Gojo queries, frowning.

“Talk to her?” Nanami deadpans, “Like a normal person.”

“Our Gojo isn’t normal though.” Shoko winks, nudging an unamused Nanami.

“Focus guys.” Geto says, clapping his hands twice to draw attention.

Your sweet laugh echoes through the cafe, and Gojo pouts, shoulders slumping.

You were supposed to be sitting opposite him laughing.

It was supposed to be his food with which you shared.

And yet one petty argument about some random guy you had met in returning from your last mission asking you out, had ruined everything.

The shared glances between you and Gojo, how you leaned on his shoulder when you slept in classes, the way he would always keep an eye on your cursed energy when joining you in battle.

All those little moments had dissolved in the bitter moments after you informed him of your date, a small smile dancing in your eyes.

“He said I was pretty Toru’” You had said, your eyes wide, and Gojo wanted to cover the love sick gleam glistening in your eyes with his hand.

“I always think your pretty.” He mumbled, watching you cock your head in confusion.

“What was that?” You questioned, leaning towards him slightly, trying to recall his quiet words.

“Nothin’.” His curt response didn’t phase you as you moved backwards, a charming skip in your step.

“Think he sounds stupid.” Gojo was never good at expressing his true feelings, and in that moment, Gojo’s sheer panic over you leaving him overpowered his aloofness.

“You think someone thinking I’m pretty is stupid?” Your shoulders fell, and you turn to him, a small lour crossing your face.

“What? No? That’s not what I-”

“It what’s you said though Toru’” You sighed, and Gojo cursed at himself for the glimmer of insecurity that appeared to vex you in that moment.

“It’s just- Well he’s just stupid.”

“So you are calling him stupid for telling me I’m pretty.”

“No! He’s stupid! Not his words!”

“That’s the same thing Gojo!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

And now Gojo’s watching as Geto summons one of his smallest and weakest curses to push your stupid dates chair over, sunglasses off and held in his fist.

“Oh so we’re actually going with this plan? I wasn’t imagining it?” Shoko muses, stealing a forkful of Nanami’s brownie.

“Nobody else had any better ideas.” Gojo silenced, waving a hand in her direction, practically clamouring on top of Geto to watch.

“Satoru watch it, I can’t see where my curse is going with you on me.” Geto scolds, brushing the white haired man off.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Nanami’s disinterest oozes out from his voice, nudging his plate over to Shoko who smiles brightly at his offer.

Geto flexes his hand, ensuring that the curse went unnoticed by you, it ducked under a table and weaved between chair legs.

“Make sure Y/N doesn’t see it!” Gojo panics, his hand covering his mouth.

Geto pauses, and looks over his shoulder towards Gojo, eyebrow raised.

“…Sit down Satoru.”

And Gojo immediately drops, hands on his legs.

The curse bobbles over to under your dates chair, and Geto smiles, before releasing his hold.

The sound of your dates chair toppling over boomed through the cafe, and with a swift flick of his finger, the curse dissapears, and all four of the sorcerer’s immediately drop their heads.

“Oh my God? Are you ok?!” Your concerned voice follows, and you stand up instantly, rushing towards your date, who grins at you from the floor.

“Oops, must have slipped.” He smiles, accepting your hand in helping in up, wiping the memory of his fall off of his jeans. “At least I have a pretty lady to help me in my moment of weakness.”

You giggle, and push his shoulder, “Oh shush you tease.” Bending over to pick up his chair.

“Oh no don’t worry I got it.” Your date winks, helping you lift the chair.

“How??!?!” Gojo groans, watching you swoon, “What is happening?”

“Man.. She must really like him eh?” Shoko offers, sharing a cheeky smile with Geto.

“Maybe it’s hopeless.” Nanami chimes in, “Do you want to finish this?” He asks Shoko, gesturing to the half eaten brownie.

“Actually?”

“Yea go on, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“Maybe.” Geto cuts in, “Maybe we should just leave them be? Let it fizzle out naturally?”

“What if there is no naturally Suguru.” Gojo mopes, kicking the leg of the table.

“Gojo it’s obvious she likes you, and it’s obvious you’re both smitten.” Shoko says, her voice muffled and she finishes Nanami’s brownie.

“..You think?”

“Everyone thinks.” Nanami replies, “Haibara thought you two were dating when we first joined the school.”

“How is Haibara by the way?” Geto questioned, “Why didn’t he join us?”

“Not sure, he said something about needing more sleep before his first solo mission.”

“Isn’t that next week?” Shoko adds.

“He likes his sleep.”

“Come on guys! Focus!!” Gojo exclaims. “I’m in a dire situation here!!”

“A dire situation that could be solved with a conversation, Gojo.” Nanami rolls his eyes.

“Try the curse again Suguru.”

“Satoru it didn’t work once, it probably won’t work a second time.”

“Ugh.” Gojo slumps back, a sigh escaping his lips. “If you’re all so sure Y/N likes me, then why is she with that loser right now?”

“She probably got tired waiting for you to make a move Gojo.” Shoko replies.

“Yea the “will they, won’t they” becomes tiresome after a while.” Geto agrees, pushing his empty cup towards the middle of the table.

“Ah!” Shoko says pointing over at you.

“They’re leaving Gojo.” Nanami affirms, joining Shoko in pointing.

“What?!?” Gojo gapes, “No!”

Geto laughs, shoving Gojo to his feet, watching you leave the cafe. “Go get her Satoru.”

“But how?” Gojo moans.

“Just go!” They all exclaim, and Gojo pauses for a split second before he’s bounding towards the door.

By the time he’s outside, you’re waving goodbye to your date, promising to call him as he walks the other way.

You look happy he thinks, and suddenly feels very out of place.

Gojo’s begins to turn to go back into the cafe, admitting defeat, when he hears your voice behind him.

“Gojo?” You gasp, disbelief permeating from your voice. And Gojo freezes, turning around awkwardly to face you.

“Hi.” Gojo replied, scuffing his shoes against the ground as he approaches you, hands in his pockets attempting to appear cool.

You look at him, your mouth slightly agape as you fiddle with the sleeve of your jumper, processing his appearance.

“You followed me to my date?” You ask accusingly, glancing around.

“He didn’t offer to take you home?” Gojo chooses to ignore you, refusing to acknowledge the implication of your words.

“I told him I could go back by myself.”

“Some guy.”

“Satoru.” You pause, lifting a hand to stop him, “Why are you here?”

A car drives past the pair of you, it’s headlights cast shadows across his perfect face and your hold yourself back from staring.

He stalls, looking at you for a moment. “C’mere, I’ll walk you home.”

“Satoru.”

You’re tired of his deflections, for once you just want to talk.

You both stare at each-other, silence decorating the air between you.

And Gojo shakes his head, stepping backwards and looking away.

“You look good.” He mutters.

“Good?”

“Pretty alright? You look pretty, he was right.”

“My date?”

Gojo’s sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans down to look at you.

“Who else?” He muses.

You don’t understand, your heart fluttering pathetically in your chest as you prove further.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask, your voice light, scarce of hope.

“Because.” Gojo hesitates, hating how unsure he sounds in this moment. “Because you are.”

You step towards him, it’s a slow movement and Gojo watches you almost cautiously.

“It took me going on a date with someone else for you to finally say something?” You tease, your hands shaking despite the confidence in your words.

“Would have said something without him, y’know?”

“..Really?” Your eyes widen, a tiny grin crossing your face.

Gojo nods, and you take another step and hug him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest.

And Gojo’s smile almost hurts his cheeks as he wraps his arms around your figure, pulling you in closer.

“You’re an idiot.” You mumble, looking up at him.

“But you like me.” He replies, cockily grinning down at you, blue eyes sparkling.

“Yea, I do.” You whisper, clinging to him, moving your head backdown to face his chest, face burning with your confession.

A small kiss is placed on the top of your head and you hold back a giddy laugh, pulling away from his embrace completely.

“So…Does that mean you’ll let me take you out?” Gojo questions, taking your hand and pulling you gently along to walk with him.

“Hmm I don’t know..Are you asking?” Your head leans on his arm, grabbing his arm as you walk.

“I would take you somewhere much better than that shitty cafe.”

And you’re laughing, “You love that cafe Toru.”

And he laughs with you, a long arm circling around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

And Geto, Shoko and Nanami watch from the window of the cafe, shaking their heads.

“Idiots.” Shoko says.

“Completely.” Nanami agrees.

Masterlist <3

Feel free to leave a request !

A/N : HELLLLLOOOO PEOPLE !! ABBY’S BACK !!! thank you for the request sweets this is literally one of my favourite concepts ever I cannot cope!!!! I love teenage Gojo so much :( BUT ALSO Shoko <333333 — i hope everyone is happy and healthy, i finished this at 2am and i have school tmrw pls kill me rn i hope a car hits me when i walk in, genuinley this no longer a joke.

LOVE YOU

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk manga spoilers #jjk leaks #jjk #soft gojo #gojo fluff #gojo comfort #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #gojo smut

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strawberrymatchawhore · 8 months ago

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away

toxic bf! rafe cameron x reader

"running away is easy, its the leaving thats hard."

summary- the camerons are in charge of the annual new years party this year, you along other kooks as well as the camerons distant family are invited to the estate to celebrate. you unknowingly strike up a conversation with one of rafes cousins whom he has always been in competition with since childhood, eventually having to deal with the consequences of your jealous boyfriend

warning/s- abusive relationship, slapping, degrading, choking, toxic ass relationship, mean rafe, reader is a crybaby, nutting inside as punishment, barely any aftercare, NON/DUBCON (reader lets him fuck to make him less pissed off) IF ANY OF THIS MAKES U UNCOMFY PLS DONT READ <3, etc.. im backkk pls enjoy and comment as well as repost apologies for being gone for so long lolsies 🙁

3 years ago you never would have pictured yourself where you are today, living in one of the finest estates of the island and dating one of the most popular and sought after members of this community. nor have you ever pictured yourself being in a a relationship where everyday was like stepping on eggshells and yet you never felt the urge to leave. you loved him too much to do so.

putting on silver dangly earrings as the final touch to your new years look, you turn to your boyfriend for approval. only to be met with a disgusted look on his face.

"why are you dressed like that"

"i thought you liked it? you bought it for me last week." you argued, folding your arms.

"yeah but i didn't think you'd wear it to a family event, i mean come on baby you look like a hooker." he pointed at the figure forming dress, your eyebrows furrowed. the dress was a maxi dress and the only thing revealing was the slight cleavage.

"never mind i'll just change" you exhale and quickly turn away to avoid starting an argument, but he grabs your arm and ushers for you to stay.

"you know what, lets go. we're already late." he leaves the room and you silently follow behind him.

.....

you and rafe walk through the door with your arm around his bicep, immediately you felt out of place. no one you knew were here and it was just random rich people. you felt your breathing begin to hitch and it continues to grow as you continue your walk into the kitchen to get drinks.

"i'll be back, stay right here." rafe orders and grabs a beer, leaving you to your thoughts.

"hey" a voice interrupted. you look up and see a tall brunette, someone you've never seen in this small island.

"uhm.. hi" you awkwardly respond back, giving a small smile which he returns.

"sorry did i interrupt? i saw you were by yourself so i thought maybe i should come and chat with you for a bit.. not that im calling you lonely. i mea- shit. im adrian by the way." he rambles and you cant help but laugh and slyly look around for your boyfriend. you know know how he gets when you talk to guys, and this guy seemed awfully familiar.

"no no, youre good. please. i was hoping someone would talk to me, everyones so intimidating here." you took another sip of your drink and lean against the marbled counter. who was this guy?

"i know right?! i thought my cousin was going to show up and greet me to everybody but i guess he's too good for that." he joked

"wow he seems like a handfu-" barely getting the response out, you instantly feel someone luring over you and harshly put their hand on your shoulder.

"what are you doing" you hear your boyfriends harsh voice whisper in your ear.

"oh hey man whats up" adrian says, they dap each other up but you could feel the tention behind it.

"i see youve met my girlfriend." rafes hand grabs your waist, massaging it. his fingers dig into your waist.

"i did, shes been a great chat." adrian responded, your jaw clenches and you bite your tongue. you feel your anxiety come back as you know youre about to dig your own grave.

"yeah she is huh. its getting kinda late though. i think we're gonna head out." before even hearing what adrian was going to say, rafe grabs your hand and starts to drag you outside.

"rafe what are you doing??? we just got here." you struggle to catch up with his long angry strides.

"do you think i give a fuck." you release yourself from his grip but he ends up pushing you up against his truck.

"i don-" his hand squeezes your throat, blocking your airways. it was 11 pm and everybody was inside, no one was seeing this.

"tell me. does it look like it?" he seethes, pushing you harder into the truck. you felt your tears start to form when his yelling is followed by his intense eye contact with you.

"no right? so get the fuck in the car." he opens the passenger seat and shoved you inside, slamming the door. rafe then gets into his seat and speeds off. you could tell by the silence and the way he was gripping the steering wheel that you were fucked.

......

rafe pulls up to the driveway and practically drags you inside, you were too scared to speak up. frightened at how much worst that would make his next moves be. pushing you into the guest bedroom he starts to speak up.

"why are you such a slut, i cant even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you trying to hop on my cousins dick." he scolds you, your body sits at the end of the bed in shame. hunching to make yourself smaller, mentally preparing yourself when you see him taking off his clothes.

"take this shit off." he grabs you and tugs on your dress. but you didnt hear him, you were too busy disassociating yourself away from him and this suffocating ass room.

"what'd i fucking say?" rafe slaps you and instead of giving you the time to take off the dress, he rips it and pins you by the wrists to the bed. he glares down at you before leaning down your neck and inhaling your scent and leaving dark bruises behind.

"i was thinking about fucking you real nice and slow tonight. but after you decided to act like a whore, i'm gonna treat you like one. how's that sound baby." he mocks you and caresses you clothed pussy before pulling them off your legs.

"rafe.." you whine when he uses his buff arms to spread your legs as much as they could go. you start to hyperventilate from his threat, and cover your face so you don't have to watch him violate you. his thumb rubs at your clit, and the other hand starts to stroke his cock. the tip showing how angry he truly was.

without a warning your boyfriend slams into your pussy, barley wet and prepped. you weren't adjusted to the size of him.

"ow fuck!" you squealed and immediately tried to seek comfort by grabbing onto rafe's bicep, this only seemed to piss him off more and he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

"you're not allowed to touch me. just lay there and be a good fuck toy for me to use." he gives your ass a hard before forcing his way back into you, the burn and lack of proper lubrication makes you shoot up again but he didn't let you move an inch. this sort of roughness was familiar, yet every time it never fails to terrify you.

"stay the fuck down." his large hand pushes down on the middle of your back, naturally putting you into a face down ass up position. just the way he liked it. your body shakes and trembles in fear when your boyfriends thrusts get harder.

"rafe please it hurts so bad i cant take it" you sobs getting louder, rafe lowers himself closer to you and grabs your throat cutting off your breathing.

"your pussys sucking me right in angel, i think you can." he sneered, your crying and begging seemed to anticipate him even further as he loses all his restraint. you knew you couldn't stop him. its just the way your relationship worked.

he would get mad and then take his anger out on you, and youd let him. why? because you know what he's capable of, the holes displayed throughout your guys bedroom were everyday reminders to not push him too far. but in a way, it made you feel safe and wanted. rafe would do anything to protect you and keep you away from the dangers of the outside world.

"you're starting to get wet shitttt" rafe moaned and releases your throat, both his hands grab onto your hips for leverage as he speeds up his pace hitting the good spots deep inside you. not caring about how there was going to be fingermark bruises later. you hiccup as you try to control the sounds of your crying, using a pillow as comfort while he ruins you from behind.

inevitably your stomach starts to tighten and you feel yourself about to cum, your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your hair and tugs on it. resulting in a moan from you, the other hand moves down to your clit and rubs circles.

"you gonna cum baby? cum on my dick." he orders, he was fucking you so hard and greedily that the sounds of his thrusts and skin colliding were echoing in the room. your body caved into the sensations and you felt yourself fall apart on him.

"thats it squirt all over it, make a fucking mess for me. god you're such a little slut." he coos. the overstimulation of his cock hitting your cervix over and over again made you fucked out to the point of of passing out.

"so fucking tight" his vulgar words fill your ears, he gives your pussy rough slaps and you push against him. you yelped in surprise, eyes widening when you notice that rafes thrusts started to get sloppier.

"no.. no rafe! rafe you cant, we cant!" you protested in between moans, he only laughed in response. trying to push yourself away from him but he easily overpowered you. grabbing both of your arms and pinning them behind your back.

"dont tell me what to do, you did this to yourself." he breathes heavily as he filled you to the brim with him cum, he stayed there for a moment fucking it in as deep as he could before pulling out. enjoying the view of your pretty pussy sucking him right in. your eyes squinted in disgust when you felt his seed slide down your thighs.

rafe got up to clean himself but left you lying on the bed, you definitely werent walk right now and you were so overwhelmed with everything that happened. your conscious couldnt take anymore and your eyes starting tearing up.

"why are you crying." he sat on the edge of the bed and examined your state cluelessly. he scooted closer to you and opened the drawer next to the bed and grabbed a towel, cleaning you with it. you both sat in silence until rafe decided to pick you up and make his way to your actual bedroom.

"youre so mean to me.. you know that." you sniffle into his hard chest and draw circles on it with your finger. he doesn't respond but you know he heard it because he gave you a light squeeze before laying you down on the large bed. he takes his place next to you and turns away from you.

you sigh and turn to face his back, engulfing him in a hug. rafe initially tenses up but then relaxed in your arms. slowly you begin to knock out but before you do, you were sure you heard a brief

"im sorry" from rafe.

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amazinglyashy · 1 month ago

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HI I LOVE ur lads headcanons ‼️ idk if u do angst but im feeling some angsty/hurt/comfort........... can i pls request the lads men's reaction to the reader rejecting their confession bc we think they deserve better...... someone who doesn't have a heart condition (like the mc) or something........

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! And oh man, I love angst and hurt/comfort, as long as I get to give it a tiny bit of hope/a happy ending! I felt this one though, I've thought about it before with my own MC…….. a few dozen times- Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! <3

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to you rejecting their confession due to feelings of inadequacy

Rafayel -

Rafayel is… surprised, to say the least.

Not only do you not have any memory of him or the things you did together- the things you did to him- but you also are straight up turning him down when he finally realized that he needs to confess to you all over again.

He's pretty upset.

It'll definitely turn into an argument, and you know he's hurt. Damn, you're hurt too, just having to turn him down. He makes you feel something, like you're special. Like you're everything to him. Like you're not…

Broken.

And it'll come out eventually. Maybe not blatantly so, but in small ways, your feelings of inadequacy will start to leak through the cracks that are forming in your resolve as you try to refuse a man who has already been refused his love by fate and prophecy for far too long.

And somehow, that makes it so much worse. Because he can fight fate, he can go against the currents of time and the ever evolving cruelty of human nature. But he can't do anything about the feelings raging inside your own head.

He's sure going to try though.

Angrily but calmly, he will start firing off things he has done for you, just because he's loved you so much, throughout all of your time together and even before. He doesn't know if it'll make it worse, make you feel like he already does too much for whatever it is you see yourself as, but he's going to do it anyway. And slowly, it'll start forming into the things you two do together- the things you've done for him when he needs you.

And you're going to be there a while, because until you start to realize, until he starts to chip away at that dark feeling in the deepest reaches of your mind and heart, he's not going to let up.

Not now, not ever.

Sylus -

He's a bit taken aback, but he's not particularly surprised. He had seen this coming, mentally prepared himself for it, even. He knew after his treatment of you when the two of you had just met again for the first time, that any sort of official relationship between you two would be tricky to get to. Especially putting an actual label on it.

He'll be a lot more surprised when he reads between the lines at your words, and realizes it's not because you're still scared of him, but because you don't think you're good enough for him.

"You can't be serious, sweetie."

He's not going to force you to accept his confession, but regardless of how timid or aggressive you become, whether you escalate it vocally or try to exit the conversation, he's not arguing with you. He pretty much refuses to, as he instead begins to state snarky facts as he crosses his arms, watching your reactions as he does.

"When you patched my wounds a month ago, was I not deserving of your hands caring for me because they were shaky and belonging to you? How about that girl you muttered about that we saw at the café who was mad at her boyfriend to the point of shouting, when he didn't get her the right cake she wanted? Are you saying you're worse than her? Helping me on jobs simply because you want to exist near me is… not good enough for me?"

"Sylus, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Oh don't worry sweetie. I know exactly what it is you're saying. I just know it's a particularly misinformed, self loathing thought for you to be having. Don't you think it's insulting for you to decide who I give my love to? After every calculated decision you have witnessed me make?"

He'll finally soften, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle back and forth.

"You don't need to be concerning yourself with what I deserve in a partner. You should have faith in my opinions, if not for yourself, but for your confidence in me, sweetie. After that, the rest is up to what you truly want in your heart."

Zayne -

His reaction is definitely the most reserved initially, especially until he realizes why exactly you're turning him down.

He definitely has the passing thought that maybe you're just misunderstanding him again, just like back with the snow seals when the two of you were still kids.

When he realizes that's not the case, and instead, it's your own internalized feelings, he's first a bit relieved, and secondly- pretty perturbed.

"It's interesting to know that's your perspective, given how much you enjoy those fictional stories with ironic pairings. I would think that it would be the most romantic thing for a heart patient to be in a relationship with a cardiac surgeon.

His biting but well-meaning quips aside, he's not quite sure how to break it to you that he used to be in a similar boat, and still is to some capacity. Which is partly why he's a bit upset to understand your perspective.

He's genuinely surprised you haven't processed the timeline of the two of you and your lives. Your accident that caused the state of your heart, his leaving to study medicine and become a specialist in cardiology and a renowned cardiac surgeon- are you not able to see that it's not an inadequacy for him, but his own lack of knowledge when you first started having issues made himself feel inadequate? Why he left without a word for years in the first place?

And not just that- it also applies to other fields too. He has no issues helping you where you need him, because he knows the extent of your capabilities, much like he knows his own. And he will spend forever if he needs to, to show you that loving is not about who does more. It's about doing what your partner needs, no matter how much or how little that is, and loving each other through every hard moment.

And you're about to hear every ounce of his convincing, opinions, and own feelings, until you start to see. Until you finally see.

Xavier -

Unless you tell it to him straight, he's not going to know why you rejected him. He'll be hurt, but he'll accept your rejection graciously and politely, before trying to figure out just how to get you to accept it.

There's an increase in claw machine dates, movie night invitations, and how much he helps you with missions or even just around your apartment. Eventually, you process the weird behavior and you're all but forced to confront him on really truly why you rejected him.

It's Xavier, so you try to play it off as a lighthearted situation or a joke, but you can see his expression darkening, and you're not sure if it's because of him being upset at your words, or realizing just how much time he has sunk into you with how... broken of a person you are.

Turns out, it's the former!

It's hard to not realize such, as he's pulling you into the tightest hug he's probably ever grabbed you into.

For a while, it's just you and him standing there, with him squeezing you tightly and you not knowing what to do with your hands or the lump rising in the back of your throat. He doesn't really know what to say, but he does know he needs to say something.

"I'll definitely make you see that you're more than enough for me."

"Xavier- that's not how this work-"

"I know, and I don't care. I- I need you to know that you're everything to me. You're not inadequate, or broken, or anything you've been telling yourself. You're more than enough. You're more than everything to me. And I'm not going anywhere until you finally understand that."

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #x reader #lds #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #.req

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likeumeanit9497 · 4 months ago

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loyalty test | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

summary: y/n's boyfriend, luke, notices how she stares at his roommate, chris. when they have an argument about it, y/n tells him that he's just reading into things. but when she finds herself completely alone with chris, will she be able to prove her loyalty?

warnings: smut; cheating (don't do this pls); unprotected p in v (don't do this either); oral (m/f receiving); hair pulling; dirty talk; toxic relationships; 18+

notes: IM BACK YAY!!!! y'all have no idea how happy i am to be writing again i was literally dying for the past couple of months. i got back about a week ago but i've been genuinely so jet lagged that i couldn't finish this one shot. but im finally starting to feel better so here i am at 2am finally posting. i hope y'all enjoy this one (ps it should go without saying that i do NOT condone cheating on ur partners EVER!!! this is fiction okay). love uuuuuu

pps im half asleep posting this so even though i made an attempt at proof reading, im sure this is not my best work so pls try to ignore any grammar errors u may come across ill fix them all eventually <3

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

“How many shots am I pouring here?” Asked my boyfriend Luke as I watched him begin to place rows of shot glasses on his kitchen counter with a bottle of tequila in his hand before his teammates all began flooding in his direction happily awaiting their drinks. From my place on the couch, I was content watching them all celebrate their big win while I nursed one or two seltzers. The night was originally supposed to be just me and Luke having dinner and watching a movie, but the adrenaline from the win along with pleas from various teammates had suddenly turned the night into one where Luke’s apartment was flooded with sweaty men and various bottles of liquor.

Even though I had been looking forward to a quiet evening with my boyfriend of six months, I was happy to see him so happy and of course wanted him to be able to celebrate with everyone. So I watched with a smile as they all lifted their shot glasses in the air, chanted in a borderline cultish way, and took their shots. “Shit, it’s getting late. We should call the Ubers soon if we want to get into the club.” Luke announced after glancing at his watch, to which the other guys all mumbled in agreement.

I watched as Luke walked over to my place on the couch, putting his hands on my shoulders and leaning towards me. “Club?” I asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow as this was the first time I was hearing about these plans for the night. Luke smirked before responding. “You don’t mind if we go out for a little bit right? The other guys were really wanting to check that new place out that I’ve been going to lately, and as team captain I kinda have to go.” I stayed silent, trying to figure out a way to answer that wouldn’t make me sound like a needy girlfriend, when my attention was suddenly grabbed by the door behind Luke opening. From that room came Luke’s roommate, Chris, and I watched over Luke’s shoulder as he ruffled his hair, heading in the direction of the bustling kitchen.

My eyes followed his movements as he walked, stopping every few seconds to greet a handful of Luke’s teammates on his way. He was wearing pyjamas, and truly looked like he had just woken up from hibernation, but he gave the room warm smiles as his eyes travelled across it before finally landing on me. He stared at mine and Luke’s place for a brief moment, his eyes shifting between me on the couch and Luke’s large frame above me, and seemed curious, but after a moment went back to doing whatever he needed to do in the kitchen.

I continued to watch as he grabbed a drink from the fridge, and listened as some of the guys tried to convince him to go out with them. He kept shaking his head, a strong smile plastered across his face, and I felt my cheeks grow hot when he lifted his shirt slightly to scratch his stomach; exposing a few inches of skin and the low band of his boxers.

Just then, I was shaken — quite literally — out of my trance by Luke’s hand on my shoulder. “Y/n! Hello!” My eyes immediately shot to his, and I felt red hot shame cover my face as anger consumed his. “The fuck was that?” He kept his voice low, but his tone was so menacing that I felt the hair raise on the back of my neck. I stuttered, trying to come up with some excuse, before he lifted me off of the couch and practically dragged me into his bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind us, he repeated himself. “What the fuck was that Y/n.” I stood tentatively in the middle of his room, trying desperately to find the words. “I-I just hadn’t realized that Chris was home, I was just shocked I guess?” I knew my excuse was weak — and my execution was even weaker — and that knowledge was confirmed by Luke rolling his eyes.

“Sure,” He scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Y/n. I notice it literally every single time you and him are in the same room. You stare at him, you laugh at everything he says, and you always find some excuse to be close to him.” His words embarrassed me, and I stared down at my feet in shame because I knew they were true. “It’s not like that Luke I just-” He cut off my excuse. “It doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to know that he’s a good looking guy, but you are mine. It’s fuckin embarrassing catching you looking at him all the time.” He stopped pacing around the room and stormed up to me, causing me to flinch slightly.

“You have anything you wanna say?” His breath was hot against my ashamed face, and I couldn’t bear to look up at him. “I-I’m sorry Luke.” My voice was barely above a whisper and I felt tears well up in my eyes. We stood there in silence for a short while, the only sound his heaving breaths and the muffled conversations from the guys in the kitchen. “I’m going. Not sure when I’ll be back, but do your best to behave when I’m gone.” His words were clipped, and he quickly exited his bedroom without so much as hugging me.

As soon as I heard his door shut behind him, I dissolved into tears of guilt. I couldn’t be upset at him for being so angry with me, because everything that he had accused me of was true. I knew that my attraction to Chris was beyond the simple acknowledgement that he was a good looking person, and that wasn’t fair to Luke. But I never meant for it to become something so noticeable, and I felt more ashamed than I had ever been before. I perched onto the edge of Luke’s bed as I attempted to regain my composure, listening to the excited chatter of the guys on the other side of the door as they prepared to head out to the club.

I hated that Luke was going out while being angry at me, and I hated even more that I had the audacity to be worried about his behaviour with other girls while he was out. Luke was a pretty decent guy, but when he was angry he had a tendency to do or say things that were really hurtful. The thought of this made me sob even harder. “God, I need a drink.” I said aloud to the empty room, and I fought with my emotions as I tried to straighten myself up.

After a few moments, the entire apartment grew silent as the guys must have all left for the club. In my solitude, I was able to catch my breath and stop the tears from flowing before getting back on my feet. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I wiped the dried tears from my face and fixed my running mascara before heading towards the bedroom door. As I walked towards the kitchen, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of Chris sitting at the kitchen island.

Even after the horrible conversation I had just had with Luke, I felt my stomach flip at the sight of his loose t-shirt clad back and his messy curls. Frustrated with myself, I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath before continuing in his direction to grab a drink. “Hey Y/n.” He said once he saw me, a warm smile covering his face. “Hey Chris.” I replied, forcing myself to avoid looking at him by searching aimlessly for another seltzer.

“Everything okay?” He asked, and I felt myself tense at his question as I finally used common sense and opened the fridge to find a cold drink. “Yeah all good. Luke and I just had a little bit of an argument is all.” I replied, trying to keep my voice light hearted and hoping he hadn’t noticed my puffy eyes or runny nose. “Ah, I see.” He replied as I bent over to reach into the back of the fridge where I saw the last seltzer. “Would that argument have anything to do with him asking me to make a move on you to see if you would stay loyal?” His question shocked me so severely that I dropped the seltzer on the ground, causing it to explode its carbonated contents all over the kitchen floor.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, picking up the cracked can and throwing it into the sink. Turning back around to face the mess, I found Chris with a roll of paper towel wiping up the liquid. “I got it, thank you.” I said, getting down onto my knees to begin cleaning up. Chris handed me the paper towel before standing up and leaning his frame against the counter. The room was silent as I compulsively wiped away at the floor, using the task as a distraction from the question Chris had just asked me. I felt his gaze on me from above, and all it did was add fuel to the fire that was burning hazardously strong inside of me.

After some time, I realized that the floor couldn’t get much cleaner so I had to put an end to my procrastination and face the conversation. “So, uh,” I hesitantly looked up at Chris through my lashes, feeling more ashamed than ever before. “What did Luke say to you exactly?” I watched as he shrugged. “He really didn’t say much. He just pulled me to the side right before they all headed out and asked me to ‘test you’.” He added air quotes to the end of his sentence, and I felt a small sizzle of anger in my core at Luke’s audacity.

I stood up and grabbed the half finished bottle of tequila from the counter, pouring it into a cup and adding a bit of pineapple juice before drinking the whole thing in one sip. At this, Chris raised an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” He asked, and I felt nerves flood my body. “Give me a second.” I replied, grabbing the tequila again but this time taking one, two, three sips directly from the bottle. I winced at the burn that traveled from my throat down to my stomach, and Chris waited in silence as I squeezed my eyes shut; taking deep breaths in preparation.

“Long story short,” I began, turning my body so that I was now facing Chris, “Luke confronted me tonight because he caught me staring at you.” I watched as Chris’ eyes widened slightly before going back to normal. “I told him that I just hadn’t known that you were home so I was just surprised to see you, but he didn’t believe me, and it sort of caused this big fight between us.” I explained, feeling my nerves flutter around my stomach; shocked that I was able to tell him what had happened. Chris stayed silent, his eyes searching my face but staying completely unreadable and I felt like my chest might explode from nerves.

“I mean, obviously he’s just being insecure but-” My rambling was cut off then by Chris. “Is he?” His question caught me off guard, and my eyes snapped to his as I felt my face fall. A small smirk toyed with the corner of his mouth as I stared at him blankly, unsure of what I could even say. After a moment, I blinked quickly and scoffed. “Ah I see, this is the test.” I chuckled and reached once again for the tequila before taking a few more sips; this interaction being far too much for me.

“No, it was a real question, I swear.” Chris repositioned his body so that he was now facing me head on, and took a step closer to me. “You think I haven’t noticed you looking at me? And I’m not just talking about tonight. I notice, Y/n.” Once again, all of my words failed me and I could only stare blankly at his questioning figure. “And don’t think I forgot about that one night.” I gasped and instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, already knowing where he was going with this.

“Just out there, when we were sharing that cigarette,” He nudged his head in the direction of the sliding glass doors in the living room that led to their large balcony, “We were drunk, but I remember you blowing the smoke into my mouth.” I felt him take another step closer to me; the heat radiating from his body causing my own to shudder. “Your lips touched mine, Y/n. I can still remember how soft they were.” His voice seemed to drop an octave, and he was whispering now as he spoke of that night five months ago, when I met him for the first time.

Luke had wanted me to meet his friends, so a big group of us had all gone to a bar together. Although I don’t usually make it a habit, I got extremely drunk that night thanks to the nerves that came from meeting a large group of new people, and ended up wanting to go home early. Luke was still having a good time and didn’t want to leave the bar with me, so Chris had offered to take me back to their apartment where Luke could meet us later. Once the two of us had made it back to the apartment, I asked Chris to sit with me while I smoked out on the balcony.

We talked for a while, learning about each others’ lives, while we shared a few cigarettes. What he was now talking about had happened, and I truly don’t know what came over me when I had done it, but I had spent the past five months trying to pretend that it was just a dream. But now, standing alone in the kitchen, we were talking about it for the first time since it happened, and I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my stomach that his hushed tone caused.

As if reading my mind, he continued. “I know we haven’t spoken about it, and maybe we should have sooner. But we haven’t been alone together once since then.” I stared blankly as he took yet another step towards me; closing the space between us almost entirely. My heart was beating so hard that I was sure that he could hear it, but once he placed a gentle hand on my hip I was pulled back to reality; immediately taking a few steps away from him while shaking my head.

“This is crazy,” I made a weak attempt at laughter as I backed away from him, “I don’t know how you expect me to fail this ‘test’ that Luke put you up to after literally telling me all about it.” I suddenly grew slightly hot with anger after reminding myself of Luke’s request to him, and the alcohol that was beginning to flood my veins wasn’t making it any easier to get over. I turned away from Chris, busying myself by starting to throw away the empty beer bottles, when he continued.

“I never told you that I agreed to do it.”

I froze, his words causing my fuzzy brain to turn onto high alert. Slowly, I turned to face him, more confused than ever before. He was leaning casually against the countertop still, with a small smirk across his lips. Noticing the confusion laced through my features, he shrugged before expanding. “I told him I don’t do that kind of shit, that if there was an issue between you two you’d have to work it out between yourselves.” None of his explanation was making things make sense, if anything I was just becoming more and more confused.

“Then what was all that just a minute ago?” I asked weakly, nervous to hear his explanation. Again, there was that dangerous smirk that I would have almost missed if my eyes weren’t glued to him in desperation for things to make sense. “That was real.” He replied simply, and my jaw almost dropped in utter shock. “Chris, he’s your roommate. You guys are friends, aren’t you?” My stomach was in knots, and my cheeks felt hot. He shook his head solemnly, “He’s not a good guy, Y/n.” As if I could read his mind, I knew what he meant without him even having to say anything else. But still, he continued.

“Why do you think he never ever asks you to go out with him to clubs anymore?” Chris asked, his voice taking on a gentle tone as if that would minimize the hurt of what I knew was coming. Weakly, I shrugged, too afraid to ask him to continue but hoping beyond anything else that he would. He sighed. “Apparently there’s this bottle girl that works at that new club that they’ve been going to lately.” My stomach dropped, but somehow I wasn’t surprised. Painfully, Chris continued. “I overheard him talking about her to one of the guys a few weeks ago. Something about going to her place after she finished her shift that night.”

At that, a single tear fell down my cheek. Not out of shock, or even sadness, but anger. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” Chris said at nearly a whisper, and I simply nodded my head; jaw clenched to keep myself from losing my cool. “W-why didn’t you say anything to me before?” I finally managed to ask, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my shaking hands. That same look of shame he had before confessing to me clouded his face once again. “I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you.” One more lonely tear fell down my cheek, and I angrily swiped it away.

“I see how much you do for him around here, and it’s obvious that you love him.” He took a step towards me, tentatively, before continuing. “But I also see the way he treats you, and you don’t deserve that.” He paused for a moment, seemingly trying to find his next words. “I honestly never really liked the guy. Sure we’re roommates, but only out of convenience. Once I overheard that conversation a few weeks ago, I started genuinely hating the guy. So, when he asked me to test you tonight, it actually gave me a good idea.”

He paused for a moment, and once again I felt my heart racing in anticipation. His usually confident expression had shifted into one of hesitation, and it did nothing to help calm my nerves. “Chris…” I started, trying to get him to continue. I watched as he took a deep breath before speaking once again. “Okay. I’m going to suggest something to you, but it’s only a suggestion. If you don’t want to do it, we can 100% pretend that this conversation never happened, and you can decide how you’re going to handle all of this in your own way.” I stayed silent, trying to wait as patiently as possible for him to get to his point.

“I think you should get back at him.” He said, finally. Still confused, I raised an eyebrow. “Get back at him? How?” I asked, to which he stayed silent. In his silence, I found my answer. “You think I should…with you?” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded weak. He stayed silent, not granting me a response with words but the small glint in his blue eyes told me enough. “Do you really think that’s the most ethical option?” I asked, trying to use what little logic I had available in my brain fizzling not just from the alcohol now but from the very situation I was finding myself in.

He shrugged again. “I know guys like him. There’s no point in confronting him about it, because you know he’s just gonna lie to your face. And if you break up with him — which I hope you do, by the way — he’s really not going to care as much as he should.” Trying to ignore the twinge of hurt that his last point caused, I nodded slowly; beginning to understand. “But if you do him the way he’s been doing you, that’s gonna fuck him up. And the best part is he doesn’t even have any right to be pissed off, because all you’re doing is exactly what he’s been doing to you.” As he spoke, I nodded my head; absorbing everything he said and recognizing it as truth.

“I mean I get it but…don’t you think us doing it would be a bad idea?” I used my hand to gesture between us. “Considering him and I literally just fought about this very situation less than an hour ago?” His smirk returned at this. “That’s my point. No other scenario has the potential to hurt him the way that ours does. You want to get back at him? I’m your guy.” A laugh that sounded almost painful fell from my lips at this, but as his face suddenly grew serious, so did mine.

“Plus,” He began, closing the space between us so that our bodies were nearly touching. I stared at him, fallen completely mute, as he brought his thumb to my lower lip — brushing it ever so lightly against my pouted mouth — before he continued, “I haven’t stopped thinking about this mouth since you left me on the balcony that night.” His voice was nearly at a whisper, and it didn’t take anymore than that for my walls to crash down.

Without hesitation, I pressed my lips to his. The kiss was soft, tentative, and gentle; our unsure mouths slowly moving against one another a physical representation of the wavering confidence in my decision. But the taste of his skin was addictive, and the feeling of his firm grasp on my waist caused my body to grow warm. So with each second, my cautious movements turned more and more desperate, and when his tongue brushed against my lower lip I opened my mouth to grant it entrance. I melted into his strong hands like putty, so when he lifted me by my ass with ease and placed me on the counter, my legs wrapped around his waist like they belonged there.

Each part of me he touched lit on fire in his trail, and as his mouth dropped lazily to my neck where he began nibbling and biting the thin skin below my ear, the very existence of Luke seemed to disappear from my thoughts — with only one word repeatedly crossing my mind: Chris, Chris, Chris.

With my spinning head, I almost didn’t notice myself being gently pushed back so that I was lying against the cold surface of the counter. Chris’ mouth was still sucking indulgently against my neck, but I felt his strong hands run up and down my bare legs; stopping just below the hemline of my shorts. I felt his hands begin to toy with my front button, and I removed my hands from the base of his curls to help him pull them down; desperate to feel his hands on my skin again.

Once the material of my shorts were dropped to the floor, I felt Chris tauntingly play with the lace of my underwear as his mouth slowly moved down my neck towards my chest. Wearing only a big t-shirt, I used my idle hands to pull the material up over my chest; exposing my breasts to Chris who immediately took one into his mouth. I moaned at the sensation of his warm tongue swirling around my nipple, and felt a dangerous shudder go down my spine once he groaned against my skin.

His hands were still flirting with my underwear, and the almost-but-not-quite contact with my core was making me go almost delirious, so in my impatience I grabbed his hand and pressed his long fingers against the place I needed him the most. The contact caused a moan to fall from my lips just as a pleased grunt fell from his. “So wet for me already, hmm?” His voice had dropped nearly a whole octave through his arousal, and his words caused even more heat to flood to my core.

In one quick motion, he slipped my thong down my legs and let it fall to the floor as his hand began exploring my slippery folds. A shocked moan burst through my lips from the relief of his touch finally against my bare heat, and as he began to rub circles into my clit, I began losing myself to the ripples of pleasure radiating from my centre down to my limbs.

His travelling mouth continued its journey from my tits down my stomach, leaving small kisses along the way. I watched in awe as his head descended along my body, feeling an unknown sensation of excitement from my view as he got closer and closer to where his fingers continued to work me. Once he reached the crest of my pelvis, he grabbed each of my legs and positioned them on his shoulders before leaning down and admiring my dripping core.

“W-what are you doing?” I asked, my voice shaking partially from nerves but mostly from the sheer adrenaline that was coursing through my veins. He dragged his eyes from my cunt up to meet my face and gave me a soft smile. “Gonna make you feel good. Is that okay with you?” His voice was still hoarse from arousal, but there was a playful tone in it that calmed my heaving chest. “Luke never…” I trailed off my sentence and his eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Never?” He asked, seeming to be completely shocked, and I shook my head. “He said he thinks it’s gross.” I confessed, suddenly feeling more exposed by my words than I had felt by my nakedness. At this, Chris’ eyes somehow darkened and softened simultaneously. “He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” He replied, bending down further so that he could place a soft kiss against my clit, “There’s nothing gross about this; about you.”

His words were said with such sincerity, such certainty, that I felt a small flutter in my chest. However, this feeling was abruptly interrupted by a much stronger feeling — a feeling of indescribable pleasure — once Chris attached his mouth to my clit. As he feverishly sucked and twirled his tongue expertly around my bundle of nerves, my vision became blurry and all I could see was a flash of bright light. When my vision returned, the sight before me caused the pleasure I was feeling to intensify so severely that, had my hips not been held firmly in place, I would have slipped to the floor as aimlessly as my underwear had just moments before.

There, right in the centre of my legs, was Chris. His generally messy curls even more disheveled than normal framing his face in the perfect way that it does; his already sharp cheekbones accentuated by his sucking; his bright pink lips wrapped tightly around me making me feel things I had never felt before; and his piercing blue eyes staring right up at me — seeming to take in every facial expression, every gasp, every moan that I made.

Overwhelmed, my hands flew to his hair where I held on for dear life; wanting to pull his mouth away but absolutely needing it to keep going. The build up of pressure in the pit of my stomach was almost too much to handle, and as I trembled around his face he maintained every ounce of pressure; every movement of his performed with expert precision. “C-Chris. Oh god!” I couldn’t stop myself from crying out, as the pleasure was causing my mind to scramble. “Just like that, please.” I heard myself continue, shocked even in the moment as I had never once said those words and truly meant it.

Chris released a soft moan against my core at my words, and the vibration from it was enough to get me to the point of no return. “Gonna c-cum, p-please don’t stop.” I begged desperately, and he didn’t. Like a machine, his movements never wavered — he never changed his rhythm, nor did he try any new tricks. The consistency of his swirling tongue threw me into a shocking tidal wave of pleasure, and with shaking legs and an arched back I practically screamed out his name over and over; riding out my high with no thoughts in my mind but him.

Only when my moans subsided and my grip on his hair loosened did Chris detach his mouth from my nerves before climbing back up my body. Once he reached my face, he placed a gentle kiss on my lips; the slightly sweet taste of my orgasm still coating his lips. “See,” He began, looking deep into my eyes, “Nothing gross about that. As a matter of fact, I could do that all day.” I felt my stomach do a flip and my core once again flood with a new wave of arousal from his words, and I allowed him to kiss me once more; this one much deeper than the last.

As we kissed, Chris helped me sit up, and then finally stand up on shaky legs. Once I was stable, he pulled my t-shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor with the rest of my clothing before doing the same with his own. With his top half now fully exposed, I allowed myself to take a moment to admire his body — his creamy smooth skin; slight muscle; sprinkle of hair below his belly button — as he started untying the drawstring on his pants.

He removed his pyjamas and boxers in one swift motion, and my eyes immediately fell to his hard member. Its size was otherworldly, and the veins that were wrapped around it caused my mouth to water. Mindlessly, I dropped to my knees in front of him and took his cock in my hand, pumping it a few times and relishing in the weight of it against my palm. I took a moment to glance up at him, and I found him staring down at me as his chest rose and fell rapidly; his eyes almost glazed over in arousal.

Turning my attention back to his member, I leaned forward and ran my tongue up his slit to collect the bead of pre-cum that had been gleaning in the light. As my tongue connected to his skin, I felt, more than heard, him intake a sharp breath. Eager to make him feel even a fraction as good as he made me feel, I attached my mouth to his tip and began bobbing my head up and down; swirling my tongue around the base of his tip as I did. Immediately, Chris’ hands found my hair and he began collecting it into a ponytail to pull it away from my face. Small moans left his mouth occasionally, and each time it did I felt my core grow wetter and wetter.

I brought my right hand up to the base of his shaft, where I began pumping it up and down in rhythm with my mouth. “Oh fuck.” He groaned out, gripping onto the countertop behind me with his free hand. With each bob of my head and pump of my hand, Chris released small grunts; and I relished in the fact that he was feeling so good because of me. I continued at the same pace, trying to stay focused on what I was doing, but his pleasure was adding to my pleasure, and I selfishly pulled away from him — his cock springing out of my mouth with a pop — and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

“Need more of you Chris.” I admitted, my arousal overtaking any urge I had to be coy in that moment. At my confession, Chris’ blue eyes darkened, and he didn’t hesitate before lifting me from the ground and pressing my back against the counter. His lips found mine once again, and the taste of both of our arousals melted into one as our tongues danced together; creating an addicting combination that made me ache.

A gasp fell from my lips as I was suddenly turned around, my bare chest now pressing against the cold stone counter. Chris had one hand pressed to the small of my back, where he rubbed small comforting circles as I felt his other hand guide the tip of his cock towards my opening. “You know,” Chris leaned forward towards my ear, “I always had a feeling that you wanted me too,” He let just the very tip of his member rest in my opening, “But if I knew you needed me the way I’ve been needing you, I would have fucked you much sooner.”

At that, Chris slid his cock into me, its girth stretching out my walls unforgivingly. Both of us released groans as he bottomed out, and he paused for a moment to allow me to adjust to his size as I fought against my trembling legs. After a brief moment, I felt Chris grab both of my hips before he began to thrust into me. His movements were slow and careful, as if he knew I was struggling to take his size. “You’re so tight baby.” He breathed, and I released a soft moan from his words.

He continued to move at a slow but deep pace, and with each thrust I felt my walls envelope his member with grateful acceptance. I started to feel my body relax more and more, and began to feel the earliest signs of pressure in my lower stomach once again. With each of his movements, I adjusted to him more, and I suddenly needed more. “Harder, please C-Chris.” I cried out softly, and without a moment’s hesitation he began to pick up the pace. Still driving his cock deep into me, his hips began to slam against mine at a much faster rate; causing my body to flood with even more arousal.

“You like that baby?” He asked through his grunts, and I was only able to moan in response; too fucked out to respond with words as I was constantly slammed against the countertop. The kitchen was flooded with the slick sounds of my arousal, and it was the perfect harmony to the verbal sounds of pleasure that fell from our tongues. I felt one of Chris’ hands snake up my back to the base of my neck before he grabbed a fistful of my hair; using his grip on it to pull me up off of the counter. With my back now pressed tightly against his front, he turned my head to the side so that — through blurry vision — I was able to see him and he was able to see me.

His glossed over eyes were focused on my o-shaped mouth, and he just stared at me for what felt like centuries as he continued to drive himself into me. The intensity of the moment was so startling that, if I wasn’t approaching my second orgasm of the night, I would have been brought back down to earth. But at that moment, a strong wave of pleasure shot through my body and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. “You look so pretty, taking my cock so good Y/n. You feeling good?” I was barely able to nod my head in response as the pressure in my core began to feel overwhelming. “G-gonna cum again.” I managed to squeak out through high pitched moans that I hardly recognized as my own.

“Me too baby. Just hold on for me, wanna cum together.” His words were coming out strained just as mine were, and I felt his rhythm begin to grow choppier as his orgasm approached. Screwing my eyes shut, I fought against the raging urge to release all over him right then and there; wanting so badly to do what he said to do and wait for him. Luckily, it wasn’t long before I was interrupted from my focused state by a loud grunt behind me. “Fuck, gonna cum. Where do you want me Y/n?”

His words unraveled the last string of self-control I had, and I felt my legs begin to shake beneath me as I struggled to answer. “In m-me. Oh god, please.” I cried out just as my second orgasm tore through me; this one even stronger than the first. As the waves rolled through me and I released a plethora of guttural moans, I felt Chris’ hand on my jaw; grabbing my attention. As I opened my eyes to meet with his, I felt his movements stop almost entirely. His eyes had a far-away look and his jaw was clenched, but still he stared deep into my half-lidded eyes as I felt his member pulse deep in my core — painting my walls white with his cum.

Once all of our movements stopped and our breathing returned close to normal, I winced as he slowly pulled his length out of me. He turned me around gently, and I was met with a lazy smile and a soft kiss on my forehead. Still recovering, I was at a loss for words; and so we stayed silent as he first helped me get dressed and then dressed himself.

“Well,” He finally started, “Do you feel better?” I stared at him for a moment, confused by what he meant, before I at last remembered the events that had unfolded not long before. I released a soft chuckle as I reached for a nearby red solo cup to fill with water. “Would you think I’m a bad person if I told you that I actually forgot about the whole point of this until just now?” He laughed as I chugged the water before refilling the glass and handing it to him. “No, I wouldn’t. As a matter of fact I’d think that made this whole thing even better.” He replied before bringing the glass to his lips.

I laughed as I reached for my phone, turning it on and checking my notifications. “Oh shit.” My face fell and my stomach tied itself in a knot. “Luke texted me ten minutes ago saying that the club was a bust and he’s on his way back.” Even in my immediate panic, I scoffed. “That probably means she wasn’t working tonight, huh?” I felt Chris walk up behind me and peer over my shoulder at the text message. “You okay?” He placed a gentle hand on the small of my back, and I cursed myself once I felt my heart flutter at his comforting gesture. I nodded. “More than okay, honestly.” I turned around to face him, and before I could stop myself I reached up and kissed him softly. “But he’s gonna be back any minute, and we can’t be standing in the middle of the kitchen looking freshly fucked. Let’s move.”

𓆩♡𓆪

As promised, a few minutes later I heard the keys rattle at the front door — announcing Luke’s arrival. I was standing in the kitchen still — busying myself with washing the dirty glasses and wiping the sticky residue from the liquor, and possibly our cum, off of the counter — while Chris sat on the couch in the living room; pretending to be in the middle of a movie.

Once he walked through the door, Luke paused there a moment to take in the scene in front of him. He looked first at me, then at Chris; then me, then Chris. His expression was unreadable, like it usually was when he was drunk, and it did nothing to ease my racing heart. My mouth dried out, completely fearful that he knew exactly what had taken place just moments before right where I was standing. Did I have a hickey? Did the apartment smell like sex? Did my guilty face give it all away?

Finally, Luke moved from his place at the front door and walked right by me; heading directly for Chris on the couch. Still pretending to be busy drying and polishing the glassware, I secretly watched as they spoke to each other. With the tv still playing and their decision to speak in hushed tones, I was unable to hear what they were saying. But, I watched Chris as he shook his head no before Luke threw his hands up in exacerbation. They continued to speak to each other for a few more moments, Luke seeming to grow more and more upset and Chris maintaining his superb level of calm, before Luke finally mumbled “You fucking suck” and stormed away towards his room.

Once his door was shut with him safely behind it, my eyes immediately fell back to Chris, who was already staring at me with that cheeky smirk back on his face. Wanting desperately to know exactly what he said but too afraid to go over and speak to him about it, I stared desperately at Chris; hoping that he would give me some sort of inclination that all was good. Then, like he was reading my mind, he sent me a sharp wink. Immediately, my whole body relaxed and I released a deep breath that I hadn’t even known I was holding.

Test passed.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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thehusbandoden · 6 months ago

Text

He Doesn't Realize How Much he Needs You Until You're Gone Part One- Dabi

A/n: 100th writing I've posted :3

I hope you like it haha.

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 2,425 \\ female reader \\ posted: 06/06/24

Warnings!: arguing, neglect, pure angst, crying, yelling, screaming, hurt, feeling betrayed, injuries (reader gets burned- not by Dabi), pushing your partner away (both parties), feeling worthless, feelings being discarded, mention of therapy, thoughts of leaving, thoughts of death, fear of a loved one dying, numbing your emotions, Dabi raging (burning things), leaving, partner being very tsundere, mention of blood (Dabi's tears), regret, guilt, becoming a husk, I think that's all haha. Pls lmk if I miss anything! <33

I will post two endings, one with angst and one with fluff. Lmk if you want to be tagged!

Tears roll down your cheeks as you spam Dabi with texts. You had just gotten into an argument with your beloved when he stormed out, cursing you out.

"Please." You quietly plead, your voice broken with sobs. "Don't leave me."

All of your texts remain unread. All your calls declined. You were having a panic attack by now, yet nothing seemed to get the villain's attention.

Just as you're about to completely lose it, you hear footsteps. Your freeze, listening with an indescribable intensity. The window opens. Your eyes dart to the activity.

Familiar black combat boots peek through the gap, falling to the floor. Your eyes travel up the familiar torn jeans, the worn out t-shirt, the burned neck, the crooked frown, and finally to the comforting turquoise eyes.

You let out a sob of relief as you see your Dabi standing in front of you. He looks down at you, grimacing.

"What happened to you?" He scoffed.

"I-I was worried." Your voice was hoarse and broken from your sobs.

"Worried?" He grunts. "You're more idiotic than I thought." He groans, grabbing the sandwich you made before the argument.

"I-I thought you were leaving me."

"I'm not gonna leave ya. No matter how annoying you are." He scoffs.

Annoying....

Your mind repeats the word several times, your face stiffening as you numb your emotions.

"Sorry..." you mumble.

"Don't start that pouty crap." He scoffs, shooting you a glare. "I'm tired of you being such a bother. I have so much to deal with. Your pathetic emotions isn't on my list."

You quietly fold your arms, moving to the couch. You watch Dabi silently, taking deep breaths to contain your emotions.

"I'm leaving for a mission tonight. I'll be back before next week."

His voice was less harsh, but nowhere near as warm as usual.

"O-okay.." you mumble, fidgeting with your sleeves. He rolls his eyes with a scoff, stomping into your shared bedroom.

"I'm leaving now, brat."

You scramble to your feet, swiftly moving to his side. You lean up, hoping for a kiss as you ever so slightly pucker your lips.

You know your husband. He will notice... won't he?

His cold eyes move down to your lips. He grunts, turning around and leaving. "See ya later, brat. Don't be pouting when I get home, you hear?" He mutters, hauling himself through the window.

He always came in and out through the back window... it would be bad if your neighbors caught a highly wanted villain in your apartment.. hence the sneaking.

You've lived together for over a year now, you've moved four times now.

"Wait-" you call out, reaching out to your husband. His cold gaze burns into you.

"Um- a-aren't you going to... going to.."

"Spit it out, woman."

"Aren't you going to.. kiss me?" You blush. Dabi scoffs.

"Don't expect needles privileges after your attitude yesterday."

"Attitude?! Do you mean our argument?" You protest.

"Here it goes again." He groans. "You're always complaining and refusing to take accountability."

"Thats nonsense." You clench your fists, trying to suppress your emotions. Tears burned your eyes, but you refused to let them shed.

"What's nonsense is your attitude. You can't even keep me around now can ya? Your attitude always drives me off! I wonder why I ever married you in the first place. You give me attitude and then act like I'm the victim. Pathetic."

Tears well in your eyes. You bite your lip. "I won't ask for anymore from you." You whisper.

"Good. Keep it that way." He lands outside, shrugging his shoulder before walking off with an nonchalant attitude.

You close the window, leaning against the wall as you try to slow down your breathing. Tears fall down your cheeks as you curl in a ball, feeling hurt, angry, betrayed, and worthless.

The days pass by as you wait for Dabi to return. You didn't hear from him, and he was gone far longer than he said he would be. Every text was left unread, every call ignored, every voice-mail left un-listened to.

Eventually, you stopped trying. You got a therapist, and ended up deciding on what was best for you. When he comes home, if he doesn't treat you better, if he doesn't even listen or try to change, its better for you to leave. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks blur into months. Many nights you lay awake, doubting yourself. Doubting your worth.

It killed you inside. Your self esteem plummeted. You stopped going to therapy. All you wanted was your husband. Your husband's love, his validation, his touch, his mere presence.

Curled in a ball, you stared at the wall with a blank expression. Horrid scenarios went through your head as you imagine your poor husband alone, injured, and dying.

Tears blur your vision as you imagine him already dead, his loving soul leaving this world without even telling you goodbye. You hadn't even gotten a kiss. Or an I love you.

The tears don't stop. And they didn't as the hours slowly pass by. You felt like ripping your hair out, screaming, hitting, throwing things- anything to get your mind off of your husband's doomed death.

The window opens. Your eyes dart towards the unlocked glass pane. Combat boots pokes through. You gasp in relief.

A worn, exhausted, injured, and in pain figure follows the boots. Revealing your beloved, Dabi. You let out a small sob, launching yourself at him.

You close your eyes in relief as you feel his warm chest, the familiar staples bringing you comfort. As you move to open your eyes you feel a hand to your shoulder, your backside hitting the floor.

You look up in shock, Dabi looking down at you in disgust.

"I thought you said you wouldn't ask anymore from me." He scoffed. You grab your arm, holding it to your chest.

"I-" you start.

"I really don't want to hear it. Just let me rest." He groans. You slowly lift yourself off of the floor, silently moving into your shared bedroom.

You curl in a ball, hiding under the sheets. You hear him walking around outside of the room, silently listening. Tears blur your vision once more. You cover your mouth, tightly closing your eyes.

You shake with sobs, doing your very best to stay quiet. You can't help but feel worthless. Tears stream down your cheeks as you listen to your husband's familiar footsteps, glad he's safe at the minimum...

Hours pass by as you cry yourself to sleep, your stray tears staining your cheeks.

Dabi's POV

Dabi strolls into your shared bedroom. "Oi, make me a sandwich will ya?" He grunts. Yiu don't move, irritating him.

He moves to your side, snatching the blanket. "I said-" he stops as he sees you asleep, tears stained on your cheeks. A strange pain dtabs at his chest. Shaking it off, he drops the blanket.

Staring at you, he gently cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He pulls away, caressing your cheek. "I've missed you. Even though you're a pain." He whispers before pulling away.

Your POV

The next morning

You blink open your eyes, rubbing at the lingering sleepiness. Yawning, your eyes lazily run over the room. The curtains were hiding the small bedroom from sunlight, the entire room encompassed in darkness.

Sitting up, you rub your puffy eyes once more. Dabi was no where near sight. Sighing, you absent-mindedly trace the bruise on your arm where you fell.

Your heart aches as you remember your therapist's words. This isn't healthy. It needs to stop...

The door opens, revealing Dabi. "Finally awake, sleepy head?" His voice wasn't the cold growl like last night, but it was no where near gentle.

You nod, timidly. Afraid of upsetting him once more.

"I'm starving. Want to make breakfas..?" This was his way of asking you to. If you agreed, there would be no thank you, for you "wanted" to.

If you said no, he would be irritated for a while. He won't cook, no matter how many times you beg him to while you're away, so he will oftenly go without eating if you're unavailable or refuse to cook.

Biting your lip, you nod. He gives you a short grimace, something similar to a small smile before walking out. Standing up, you yawn, stretching your arms. Your eyes ache from all the crying, but you push that to the back of your mind.

You walk out to the kitchen, beginning to cook. You feel Dabi's eyes on you, but you don't pay much attention. You were guarded, unsure why he's acting so differently this morning. Cautious of unleashing the monster once more.

"Dabi?" You murmur. He grunts in response.

"I talked to a therapist when you were on your mission..."

"A therapist? What for? Did you leak my identity?!" He snaps.

"No, I didn't. I was really struggling for a while and needed someone to help me."

"So you relied on a stranger?!"

"You wouldn't answer. I called, texted, I left voice-mails."

"Oh so you think that your crappy attempt to get my attention justifies getting help from a stranger!? Was he a guy?! Were you sleeping with him?!"

"What?! No! I would never!"

"Then what were you doing with them?!"

"I was getting help for my mental state, Dabi!"

"Oh poor baby, you think being lonely justifies that?!"

"You're being unreasonable. Dabi she told me it was best for me to leave you if you keep treating me like this. I'm telling you this so you can wake up and change. This isn't okay." You snap, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Leave me?!" He laughs. "You wouldn't. You can't live without me."

"You've been making me live without you for months, Dabi. You don't tell me you love me, you don't show me affection, I'm lucky just to have you not yell at me!"

"You're being dramatic." He spits. "You're a spoiled brat. I've been working my arse off for you and you're this ungrateful."

"You've been working for revenge! It's not for me, it never was! I have my own job that pays for all or our bills Dabi!"

"You're listening to a stranger's advice and plan on leaving me?!"

"Only if you don't change Dabi!"

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me, y/n. Stop playing the victim."

"You didn't treat me like this when we first married."

"Keep telling yourself that." He spits, putting his jacket on.

"Where are you going?!" You cry, the food far from recovery, you hazardously shove the pan into the sink, burning your hand. You cry out in pain.

"Y/n!" Dabi yells, hurrying your side. He aggressively graps your hand, making you cry out once more. "Idiot! Why did you hurt yourself like that?!"

"Just leave me alone!" You try to yank your hand away but Dabi yanks it back.

"Stay still!"

"Let me go Dabi!"

"Y/n just sit still!!"

You push him back, protectively pressing your injured hand to your chest. "I said to let me go!"

Dabi's face scrunches up as he looks down at you. After a few silent moments he turns away. "I'm over you and your dramatic act." He mumbled.

Walking to the door, he pulls his combat boots on. "Don't leave!" You cry, coddling your burning hand.

He ignores you, moving to the window. "Dabi! If you leave without us finishing this I'm leaving."

"Go for it. I don't need you. I never did." He sneered.

Your heart throbbed as your beloved husband jumped through the open window, not looking back. Falling to your knees you break into sobs.

You cry over the absence of your beloved, you cry over the pain, and you cry over the dreaded feeling of being completely alone.

You don't stop for hours. It goes on and on until your completely out of tears, numb to the feeling of utter loss. Your hand aches. Your eyes aches. Your heart aches.

It all just- hurts.

You slowly drift to sleep, the cold kitchen floor being the only thing that grounds you from the pain of betrayal.

Dabi's POV

Three days later.

Dropping from the window Dabi nonchalantly glances around the room. It seemed unusually cold an empty. Paying it no mind, Dabi hazardly tossed his jacket and boots towards the front door.

"Y/n, I'm home." He calls, running his hands through his greasy hair, his roots were growing out. Rolling his eyes, he opens the fridge. It was... empty.

"Y/n!" He calls once more, huffing in annoyance. "I get home and can't even eat?!"

No response. "For Pete's sake you petty brat! Get out here!"

Silence.

Anger fills his being before he remembers your words before he left. A strange pain shoots through him, his eyes widen as he runs into your shared bedroom. Everything of yours was... gone.

His heart quickens as he searches the entire house for you. Nothing. Not even a trace. His breathing quickens as he pulls at his hair. Taking a shuddering breathe, he shakes his head.

"You'll regret this y/n... you'll be back and I'll laugh in your face!" He chuckles, losing a bit of his sanity. "I DON'T NEED YOU! YOU'LL SEE!" He screams, activating his quirk as he knocks over a chair. He let's out a scream, lighting anything and everything in sight on fire.

Months pass by. Dabi has turned into a shell, simply surviving. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work... a "good" day is when he remembers to eat or drink. A shower or change of clothes is out of mind.

Walking through the streets, he walks inside the charred apartment. Stepping inside, he closes the door. He doesn't care about his identity anymore, or anything really.

His turquoise eyes scan the apartment, his eyes landing on a photo of you and him. His heart strangely aches once more. "Y/n..." he murmured, his fists clenching.

Falling to his knees, he lets out a broken sob. His eyes burn, tears would be running if they could. Blood drips from his charred tear ducts. He falls to the floor face first, nothing but his beloved wife on his mind.

How could he be so stupid?! How could he be so utterly retarted?! He lost the one thing in this world that actually loved him. Grasping his phone, he dials your number.

Please. Please pick up... please... I need you...

~~~~~

Part two (coming soon) | alt. ending (coming soon) lmk if you want to be tagged!! <33

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | Tips<3

Reblogs make me smile (bonus points if you tag) and comments make my day!!

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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reidmotif · 1 year ago

Text

Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for.

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario.

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous.

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other.

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help. “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.”

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him.

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for.

God, was I wrong.

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile.

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering.

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.”

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic.

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone.

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around.

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right?

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee.

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

“You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me.

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid.

Eventually, this led to the dynamic we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued.

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid?

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself.

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me.

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted.

“You’re naive!” He shot back.

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.”

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

“Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows.

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this.

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically.

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick.

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in.

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of.

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot.

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness.

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded.

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant.

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously.

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts.

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard.

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious?

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment.

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-”

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him.

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?”

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly.

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his.

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound.

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door.

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze.

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down.

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head.

“Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions, already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly.

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up.

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here.

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.”

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now.

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before.

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness.

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment.

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me.

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.”

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face.

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly.

I chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me.

He gently inquires, “Do you understand?”

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer.

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses. “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point.

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him.

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound.

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before.

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.” He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy.

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.”

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.”

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips.

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch, beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly.

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely.

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck.

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway.

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind.

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.”

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt.

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words.

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone.

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth.

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible.

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing.

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence.

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly.

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.”

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding.

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job.

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me.

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth.

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.”

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while.

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm.

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered.

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased.

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.”

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #smut #request #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfiction

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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hiii can you do #3 (car sex) with gojo?

꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐂𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱

GOJO Satoru ⋅ fem reader

Note: oopsie doopsie it became a fic🫠

Summary: getting stuck in the rain on the drive home from a party with your favorite enemy Gojo Satoru

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, enemies-to-lovers kinda trope, hate sex, Gojo's an impliedd fvckboy, dirty jokes, Gojo being a bit of an annoying brat, pns (baby, slut, etc), drama/argument, stuck in a rainstorm trope, car sex, implied crush on Suguru, jealousy (Gojo), fingering, dirty talk, handjob (reader giving), protected sex, Suguru calling at the end 🫠, light teasing/mocking/meanness from Gojo, lmk if i have missed something, pretend u never saw any errors pls proofreading is hard 🙏😩

Wordcount ≈ 1.8k

Playme ♪ slow down

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, pulling the car off into an empty parking lot.

“Of course…” you sighed, sliding down the passenger seat. “Of course this would happen when you decide to drive me home. Just my luck getting stuck with the biggest asshole in the world.”

“Jesus, y’think you could be a little nicer to me baby? I offered you a drive home and this is how you treat me…? I’m heartbroken.”

You glare over the white-haired boy, wishing you could wire his stupid mouth shut.

The car turns off and the rain just pours and pours relentlessly all over it, cascading down the windshield.

How comical; two people who loathe each other, stuck in a car at night with no friends to call for help because they’re all drunk at the party.

“Well…?” you looked over at him expectantly, fingers massaging into your temple and across your brows.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna get out there and fix the damn tire?”

Satoru let out a chuckle. So many girls swore that their crushes on him developed because of that attractive laugh of his, but you couldn’t feel anything but annoyed by it.

“As if. It’s fucking pouring. Why don’t you get out?”

“I’m not getting wet.” You grimace.

He slipped in a dirty joke – because of course he would. “Not yet, anyways.”

“Lay one hand on me and I’ll rip you apart, Satoru!”

“Don’t say my name like that, you’re gonna make me hard.”

“Satoru!”

“Fuck baby, again.” He moaned jokingly. You were seething – seething, you were so ready to punch him.

He just chuckled, enjoying getting you riled up like it was his favorite hobby.

A moment of silence passed. You focused on the sound of the rain to mellow out.

“I’m gonna be honest, I’d let you ride.” He said suggestively.

“What the fuck!” you responded like he was crazy, but something started heating up between your legs.

“Kidding! I could have meant ride my car or something!”

“Uh, yeah right you meant it like that! Damn horny bastard…”

He clicked his tongue and stared out the window. “You’re no fun. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You look at him incredulously, your anger teetering between tame and murderous.

“I almost had a boyfriend…” you seethed bitterly, “Until you spread some insane fucking rumors that drove him away.”

“I did you a favor, that guy was a fucking loser.”

“Like you’re not!”

“Ooh, am I a contender?”

“… what?”

“You’re implying that I’m a potential boyfriend for you.”

“No I’m not! As if you’d be boyfriend material, you’re a soulless fuckboy.”

“I would prefer ‘soulful’ fuckboy because I do fuck with a lot of soul.”

“Jesus you’re ridiculous. How does Suguru put up with you.”

“Don’t say his name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna fuck him.”

“What?”

“I see the way you look at him.”

“Satoru you’re delusional. I don’t wanna fuck Suguru.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

His voice raised for a moment. A bizarre thing to witness from the most composed man on the planet; it was like witnessing an indestructible object breaking.

“Okay, let’s say it’s a lie and I actually wanna fuck him. What would it matter to you?”

“He’s my best friend, you freak.”

“Yeah so what if he’s your best friend? He’s hot.”

“You mean you would fuck him?!”

Satoru was genuinely getting angry – you weren’t sure if you were scared or turned on, it was a weird feeling. But your thighs squeezed together, and he glanced at them and took note of that.

“No, I’m just saying he’s hot.” You backtracked.

“Damn liar.”

You felt cautiously curious. “What would you do if I fucked him?”

“I’d ki- I’d be mad.” He corrected quickly.

You laughed, “You’d kill me?”

The way he was staring at you had you feeling… feeling a lot, let’s just say. His lips slightly parted, a half-incredulous and half-angry expression on his face, hints of lust in his eyes that lurked behind shades which he always kept slid halfway down his nose.

“No, I wouldn’t kill you.” He said.

You turned to face him fully, “What, you’re telling me you’d kill your best friend if he fucked me?” you asked rhetorically.

Satoru’s lack of response and annoyed jaw clench answered your question.

“That’s crazy! You must like me a hell of a lot.” You said. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated – that just pissed him off. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of feeling affection.” You teased.

“I don’t fucking like you.”

“Look who’s the liar now! Shall I come ride you and get the truth out of you myself?”

He stuttered and went red. The boy who was never at a loss for words stuttered because of you. The bastard who never blushed went red because of you.

Satoru shot a look your way. He was so conflicted; he wanted to yank your hair and put you in your place by spitting mean words down your throat, but at the same time he also wanted to shove his tongue in your mouth and sink his cock inside you.

“I don’t let girls ride me.” He said in a lowered tone. “I prefer being in control.”

Now the atmosphere finally changed. It was already dipping into sultry waters from the beginning, but now it plunged. Every word you and him exchanged from this point was laced with bitter lust.

“Maybe you should.” You said, leaning closer towards him. He surreptitiously leaned his elbow on the middle armrest.

“I like being in control.” He said. “Ain’t no way I’d let someone take the wheel.” He said.

Speaking of, his pretty hands were still resting atop the driving wheel. The neon glare from the shopping center signs hit the dashboard.

“… maybe you need to stop being such a control freak and let someone pleasure you.”

His pants tightened.

Satoru looked at you as if he didn’t believe what you just said. You and him bitterly flirted a few times in the past, and tonight at the party too, but it never got this far.

No, it never got this far – as far as him crashing his hungry lips on yours and you crawling over onto his lap. His annoyance and jealousy was palpable, you could taste it on his lips.

He kissed you like he fucking hated you. And he pleasured you like it too – it didn’t take long at all for him to fish out the condoms from his pocket.

“ ‘fucking hate you…” he mumbled into your mouth, tongue poking in and swirling around yours. “Hate your guts. Hate when you talk back to me. Hate that you like my best friend. Fucking slut, ‘m gonna make you forget him t’night.” Satoru promised threateningly, bringing his fingers down to toy at your clit.

“ ‘hate you too…” you whimpered weakly, losing all your dominance under the influence of his touch.

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughed, “You fucking love me. Uh-huh, keep lying, it’s fine – ‘m gonna fuck the truth out of you.” He said, turning your earlier words against you. Oh what an annoying bastard.

He felt you up like he hated how good you felt. His fingers sunk inside your little hole like he was pissed off. “So wet for me, huh?” Satoru smirked against your face.

“Fucking shut up and fuck me already I need it so bad.” You whined annoyedly.

“You don’t deserve it yet.” He seethed, coming in for another kiss – a dirty, filthy, nasty, wet French kiss. It seemed he liked how you tasted.

His fingers worked inside you so good you gushed on his lap. There was no shortage of teasing – but sometimes he threw in an odd praise comment just to stir you up. “Your pussy’s sucking my fingers in so good, pretty baby. ‘That feel good? Yeah? C’mon, tell me you like it. There, that wasn’t so hard now was it? Haha, did you just cum?”

“Satoru!” you whined into his chest, falling to pieces as you gushed around his two fingers that he kept all curled up inside, rubbing back and forth against your G-spot with his fingertips.

“Bet you never reached that deep with your own fingers, huh?” he asked, breath getting hotter.

In fact, you could feel his whole body getting hotter. The outline of his cock was so searing that you felt it through all your layers of clothes.

“Does this turn you on?” he murmured, pulling his pants down so you could take his pretty cock into your hands. “Fucking around with someone you hate? Yeah? Fuck – ahh, yeah stroke it just like that. Get my precum all over your fingers, baby, soak ‘em in it. ‘Want you to smell like my cock after we’re done.”

You pumped his cock until neither of you could wait longer – the both of you kept ripping kiss after kiss like you were starved of each other’s taste despite never having had it before. The rain barely drowned out the erotic breathing and moans that filled Satoru’s car. That stupid, pretty cock of his hit the best spots. You could feel the curve.

“Taking it so well…” he muttered into your mouth, lips glistening with saliva.

“Faster… faster please, ‘Toru fuck me like you hate me.” You begged him.

His eyes lit up.

“Y-yeah? Want me to fuck you like I hate you? Like a slut?” his lips curled into a mouthy smirk when you nodded frantically, “Alright, baby, ‘m gonna fuck that pussy like it deserves – oh fuck – ‘can feel you clinging to me – so fuckin’ tight and messy. Messy fuckin’ pussy – ‘s gonna – ‘s gonna be my pussy, yeah? Just f’me? Good.”

The windows fogged up, your hand pressing to the glass for support as your body bounced against Satoru’s. He let out a long groan and threw his head back. “Baby, ‘gonna cum.” He announced.

“Mmm! ‘yeah ‘m gonna cum too! Gonna cummm ~ ” you cried, completely dazed with pleasure and the feeling of his fat cock filling your pussy in.

“Look at me.” He commanded. “Look into my fucking eyes when you cum. There we go, rub that clit – fuck, so pretty – baby cum, cum with me – yeahhh, fuck ‘m cumming, don’t stop riding me.”

His vocals were straining. You could feel his cockhead twitch and throb.

Just when the both of you hit your highs and rubbed your sweaty bodies together, rolling them erotically, his phone went off. The caller ID showed a familiar face. Satoru composed himself, sucked in a breath, and answered the call from his best friend.

“H-hey, S’guru. Huh? Yeah I got Y/n home safe.” He said while his cock twitched inside you.

When you pressed kisses to his neck, he almost moaned. “Huh? No, no I’m fine. Why? Oh, yeah, no that’s just the rain… yeah I got Y/n home fine. Haha, okay, you do that — oh really? — uh-huh, hey I gotta go I'll call you back later, byeee!”

Satoru smiled at you like a devil, listening to the way your pussy squelched when you slid off his cock.

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suhkusa · 4 months ago

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HELLOOOO i see you opened ur req👀 can I req for suna or atsumu suddenly getting a girlfriend, like hardlaunching her on social media, after almost a year of being on and off... can it be angst to comfort/fluff (pls i want to cope so bad from my prev situationship bahaaaaahahha) tysm just so u know i love u and ur works and prolly the first one to like em immediately>< <3

CASUAL.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, situationship-to-relationship lol

A/N. ouchhh i hope this is good anon ><

Being in a situationship with Atsumu Miya was the absolute worst.

Sometimes it felt like he was stringing you along in his little game, while other times it felt like you two were truly meant to be together.

There were many invisible boundaries in the relationship, or talking stage, or whatever he wanted to call it, that were made without having to say a thing.

It was mutually exclusive, so no talking to other people romantically.

You two didn’t post each other on social media.

The two of you would make it official when you both were ready.

The rules were easy to follow. Though, you had always been a bit iffy on the third one. When would the two of you deem yourselves “ready” when you’ve already been talking for so long?

———

The worst part about Atsumu, was that he was so indecisive.

One minute, the two of you could be acting as if you were a married couple. Going on dates, spending time at each other’s houses, and late night calls. The two of you even had pet names for each other!

But then the next minute, he decides his volleyball career is more important. Or that he’s too busy. Or that he wants a break. Or that you’re too controlling. So many excuses, yet every time he calls out to you to come back, you come running back head over heels.

And it hurts. It hurts being with him even though you two had never made it official. How could you feel so tethered and intertwined with a man who never had the guts to ask you to be his and only his? Who never posts you on social media?

You weren’t controlling. You were just tired of this cat and mouse game. You just wanted certainty and reassurance.

Was that so much to ask for?

Apparently for Atsumu Miya, it is.

“I don’t get it Atsumu, why can’t we just say we’re together? Everyone already knows we basically are!” you sigh.

The two of you sat in his apartment as the TV played in the midst of your argument. This was definitely one of the worst arguments that had occurred between you two.

“If we’re basically together then why can’t you just be happy? Do I need to ask you out? To post you?” he rebuttals, his voice clearly agitated.

“Because! You haven’t asked me out. That stuff is the bare minimum yet I’m here begging. You’re so comfortable in this weird limbo talking stage where it’s so easy for you to leave me and then hope I come crawling back!” you cry, you hadn’t even realized you started to cry. “I’m so, so tired of this shit!”

“If you’re so tired, then leave!”

Usually during the short breaks of your situationship with Atsumu Miya, it was always him who had decided to call it off. But his words had snapped a cord in you that had already been thinned to its last thread.

The two of you share a tense look, both unmoving. It’s you who decides to break the silence.

“Me? Leave? Hah, fine. I will,” you’re quick to grab your bag on the side table.

“Wait, Y/N-”

“And don’t expect me to come crawling back to you, Miya. This time you really did it,”

He freezes when you open the door, eyes filled with tears as you look back at him.

“Bye,”

The door shuts before he could say anything.

What was he supposed to do now?

———

If Atsumu knew one thing for sure, it was that he was stupid. 100%, a million times over, he was an idiot.

His concept of love and relationships were hindered during his high school days. The ability to commit was a hard idea to grasp onto.

But you were different.

You were kind and patient, unlike any one he’s ever known, and he was undeniably scared. Scared to lose you, scared to fuck up. And so what did he do every time he got scared?

He ran away and gave you some bullshit excuse. But even then, you’d come back time and time again.

But now it is different. He told you to leave and you really did. You wouldn’t come back to him willingly.

Atsumu’s stupid. That’s why he’s at your doorstep in the rain.

He rings the doorbell. He’s shocked when you open it on the first attempt.

“What are you doing?” your quiet voice says.

Atsumu takes in your disheveled appearance. You definitely had been crying based on your swollen eyes.

“I—” Atsumu can’t find the words. He’s really scared.

“If you’re going to yell at me or ask me to come back, you better be ready to beg me Atsumu, I’m not doing a stupid “talking stage” or some cheap crap you come up with,”

“I’m sorry, I-l fucked up really bad,”

You don’t say anything in response, allowing him to continue.

“I love you so much,” he’s stuttering, “I’m really scared but I want to try with you, I want to be with you, for real this time,”

“And if I say yes, are you just going to leave me when it’s convenient for you?” your own voice sounds a bit hesitant.

“No, no. I promise you. I mean everything that’s coming out of my mouth,”

You look like you’re lost in thought for a split second before you speak. “I’ll be with you, Atsumu. For real,” you smile as you mock his words.

Another moment passes by, and before you know it, you’re kissing him and he kisses you.

———

ATSUMU MIYA HAS MADE A NEW POST.

[tsumumiya]: my person ❤️

[yn.lnnnn commented]: ughh loves it <3 ure so cute ml

>>> [tsumumiya replied]: I LOVE YOU!!!!!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #hq angst #atsumu miya x reader #ruhquest #atsumu x you

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jinxs-gf · 2 months ago

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Politely asking for more black cat reader x kaldhur pls :3 u write them so cute I love their dynamic of flirty and mischievous x serious and blunt

I loved writing kaldur’s part in my black cat hcs!! here ya go

w.c. 491

"This happens every time we have a mission. We get strict orders to partner with someone or be in a certain spot. And if we don't listen we get scolded! So why doesn't Kitty-Cat over here get that same treatment?" Wally throws his arms up, voice raised a pitch in frustration.

Your eyes narrow at him, the claws of your suit presenting themselves, a clear warning to the boy. He looks away sheepishly, he does not want to piss you off.

"Simple. He gets a make out sesh for every order broken," Conner says, clearly as pleased as the rest of his team.

Roy adds his own two cents, humor clear in his voice, "Seems like a fair trade in his book."

Robin doesn't feel like joking about the matter though, "You know that could have screwed us over right?

"But it didn't. Everything went according to plan."

"Everything went according to plan except for Cat! They were supposed to stay with Artemis!”

It was a long argument. You merely stood next to Kaldur the whole time, watching him be scolded by his team while they spoke as if you weren’t there. It didn’t bother you, you knew they were right. Would that make you change your behavior? No.

"They're right you know. You need to start listening to my orders. We need to take this criticism from the team.”

You hum, "So there's a 'we' now?"

He sighs, "That’s all you got from that, huh?"

“You know me hun, I’ve got my eye on the prize.”

Kaldur stands with his arms crossed, looking lost in thought, “You’re…a distraction. To me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It could be. I can’t have you around when we’re on missions, it clouds my judgment. I can’t be distracted by you. I need to be clear headed in case something serious happens.”

“Sooo you’re saying you like me so much you can’t have me around? Do my kisses fry your brain completely?” It was meant as an exaggerated tease, but Kaldur took it seriously.

“Yes, Cat. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” And maybe he was exaggerating a bit as well.

You hum happily, “So where’s that kiss you promised me earlier?”

“Will you behave from now on? Listen to my orders?” You walk so you’re planted right in front of him, hands clasped behind your back, feigning sheepishness.

“Aww but where’s the fun in that?” Your breathy voice speaks louder than the innocent exterior you were trying to fake (you knew he could see right through it).

“I’m serious.”

You exaggerate a huff of frustration, “Okay okay, team leader. No promises, though.”

“That’s good enough for me,” a pause, and then, “The team is right, I don’t have the best judgment when it comes to you.”

You smile widely, arms winding around his neck, “You love it though, right?”

He hesitates, holding his breath as your lips inch closer to his,

“Yeah.”

#young justice fanfiction #young justice x reader #aqualad x reader #kaldur’ahm x reader #kaldur x reader #kaldur fanfic #aqualad fanfiction #aqualad fanfic #black cat!reader & the team #request!

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taesanluv3r · 5 months ago

Text

build-a-bear.

kim woonhak x reader

idol! woonhak x non-idol! reader, established relationship. based on this woonhak scenario i wrote a while back!! cuss words, first i love yous. lowercase intended. pls excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. enjoyy <3

wc: 3,324

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"fine then." - "fine!"

those were the last two words kim woonhak and yn ln had spoken to each other before she had slammed her front door shut on his face, before he had angrily turned around and begun walking towards the exit of her apartment building, before she had shut her blinds and stuffed her head deep into her white sheets, staining the fabric with silly little tears.

they didn't want to fight. in fact, the young couple rarely ever did so in the first place. however, with the newly debuted idol boy's rising fame, and the girl's growing insecurities, it was almost inevitable this one particular argument was going to come up onto the surface of their otherwise wholesome relationship.

you see, yn and woonhak have known each other for ages now. when he first started showing signs of his dream career, she was the first to support him- heck! she even came to all the auditions with him and gave him endless moral support. similarly, he was always there for her, accompanying her when she had to study late for an exam, or even sending her chocolates and other sweets when it was that time of the month. the pair have mutually liked each other forever, and they both knew that as well. it didn't take them long at all before they started officially dating, sharing one awkward kiss under the moonlight before he left again to the next city over to start the preparations for his coming debut.

from then on, she started seeing him less and less. their daily conversations on the phone had become simple good night and good morning texts that don't really give her much of a serotonin boost anymore. she missed him, and she always let him know. he missed her too, he just didn't have the time to tell her. she'd complain about it, "you don't have time for me anymore, huh?" and he'd furrow his eyebrows, "i have a job to do, yn. i thought you supported me the most?" then she'd gasp, taken aback by his words, her own eyebrows knitting together and her eyes almost glowing red in anger. for a second, she saw the way his eyes watered, like he knew he was wrong. but kim woonhak was stubborn, quickly shaking away that look and mimicking her own furious one. and that's how it happened. that's how they ended up in this battle of silence, secretly waiting for the other to break and end this cold war they didn't even want in the first place.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

woonhak sighs as he finally takes off his shoes. schedules ended earlier and the boy still had practically the whole day to do whatever he wanted. he watched as his members went their own ways, leehan and riwoo heading to some cafe, taesan locking himself up in his studio as per usual, sungho going out to see a movie, and jaehyun...sitting on the couch in the middle of a very serious fifa game.

"so where you headed, broski?" jaehyun suddenly asks the boy, still not looking away from the TV screen. "going to see your girlfriend? or are you still not talking to her like an idiot?" he snickered, earning a big eye roll and middle finger directed at his face from the younger boy. "i don't know hyung...i mean i obviously want to see her...but i'm not sure how she'll forgive me when i've been such an asshole" woonhak says, slumping himself down on the spot beside the older member. "just...ah-!" jae cut himself off when he misses a goal in the video game, "just go get her a gift or something- don't girls like that stuff?" once again the younger one rolls his eyes, but he nods at his leader's suggestion. "i guess you're right hyung...i'm gonna go to the mall and find something" and with that the kim boy gets up, slipping back on his shoes and grabbing himself a cap to cover up his messy hair before running out the door and down the building to call himself a taxi.

woonhak arrives at the mall, dragging his feet solemnly as he passed by multiple young couples on dates. "seriously...it's not even valentine's day...why is everyone out on a date here right now?!" he grumbled to himself, probably looking like a big ol' loser to the outside eyes that felt like they lingered on him as he walked. the boy circles the mall for what he swore were hours but he found nothing at all that was worthy enough to gift his angry girlfriend. "ugh..." the boy groans as he's one step closer to giving up and just meeting with her empty handed like the idiot that everyone kept saying he was. however, all those doubts immediately exited his head when a familiar large sign appears in his line of sight. it's bright yellow with a giant brown bear and beside it in big blue lettering, it read:

build-a-bear workshop.

"perfect!" he almost said too loudly as his eyes gleamed and began to sparkle. in the moment it seemed as though a big bright light-bulb had gone off in his head, his large feet padding against the floor and taking him into the kid's doll factory. the boy's eyes were wide and his mouth hung opened as he took in his surroundings. a huge variety of stuffed animals, in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and designs stood against every corner of the shop. on high shelves, rows and rows of clothes, all perfectly tailored to fit the standard plush toy size.

woonhak didn't know where to start. the loud speakers that played recent k-pop hits, mixed with the sound of little kids running around and dragging their parents in and out of the store made his ears ring and head hurt a little. his finger grazed against the wood as he scanned through every skin you could pick for your toy, there were cats, dogs, even moths! but one thing in particular caught the boy's attention. right there in the very corner of the store, just a simple brown bear. there was only one left in stock and it was just perfect. it's fur was light brown, it's legs were slightly longer than it should be, and it had the sweetest set of little dark brown orbs for eyes. even if he tried to, woonhak couldn't deny the fact that the teddy was nearly the spitting image of himself.

"okay, now rub the heart against your chest, hold it in your palms and give it your best wishes!" the tall guy's cheeks turn bright red as he follows the bear stuff-er's instructions, praying to god no one recognized him beneath his cap and beginning to regret doing all of this in the first place. it was all over in a second though, the bear being all stuffed up, it's heart and a little recording he did all wrapped up warmly inside it's cotton flesh. now it was time to dress it. woonhak hasn't really had any experience dressing anyone but himself, so it was really hard for him to not dress the plush toy like it had just raided his own closet. and so, naturally, the boy chooses a light blue jersey and a miniature pair of denim jeans, a cute pair of black sunglasses as an add-on accessory to it's look as well.

"now, all that's left to do is to name it...but what..." he mumbles to himself, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table that was much much shorter than him. "hey mister" a squeaky voice, and the feeling of his sweatshirt getting tugged down shakes him out of his thoughts. "huh?" he asked, looking down to meet eyes with a little girl. "mister, that doll looks just like you!" her eyes disappeared as she smiled- well, if you could even see them under her thick bangs that messily decorated her forehead, and she shot him a toothy grin. "me?" the boy asks, beginning to smile too at the sweet girl. "mhm!" she says finally before running away. "great..." he says, smiling proudly at himself as he begins to type out the teddy's name for it's birth certificate.

"there you go, have a nice day and come again soon!" woonhak nods, thanking the cashier before leaving the store. "like hell i'm going in there again..." he whispers to himself, the image of his own self awkwardly pressing kisses onto a miniature plastic heart in the middle of a kid's store flashing in his head as he began to walk out of the mall and into a cab. he's on his way back to the dorm now, trying his best to stuff the build-a-bear box in his large tote-bag so that his group members wouldn't see it. cause if they ever did, he'd never ever hear the end of it. woonhak throws his shoes off on the rack, quickly making his way over to his bedroom and trying his best to avoid his hyungs that were playing together in the living area. "so, what you got there, woonagi~?" leehan called out from the bean-bag on the floor. "yeah bro, show us what you got for your girl~friend~" taesan follows, dragging out his words teasingly. "it's nothing, leave me alone! and DON'T come in the room" the tall maknae boy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the others who just stifled in their laughs and nodded.

the kim guy can't help but giggle like a child as he pulls out the doll, sighing once as he places it and it's papers into a different bag; a gift bag he had picked up before leaving the mall, it was pink and just the right size to fit the rather beefy bear. "now...the hard part" he sighs once more as he picks up his phone, his chatroom with her vacant, no new messages since their argument the other day. it felt foreign, unusual for he always had new messages from her. the boy takes a deep breath, fingers tapping softly against the screen of his phone as he began to type. it takes him a while though, coming up with a sentence and then deleting it all and starting again and again, until finally, he pressed send.

i know u hate me rn but i literally cant function without u pls meet me at the park tonight let me make it up to u please?

the boy doesn't expect her to open his texts so fast, he finds himself twirling his lips against his teeth as he watches the way three dots begin to bounce up and down on her side of the chatroom. he doesn't even realize he's holding his breath until her response causes him to let it all out. it's simple, dry, still unlike her, but at least it's something.

my love<3 ok, see u in 5.

"bye guys wish me luck" woonhak calls out as he rushes out the door, the sound of his confused (but supportive) members growing faint as the door closes behind him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

by the time the boy gets to the park she was already there. yn ln, sitting patiently against the green grass. her hair fell loose against the skin of her arms, he could see from where he stood afar the way the breeze sent a shiver down her spine. "how long have you been waiting?" he asks, finally sitting down beside her. "not long" yn's words are cold, much like the atmosphere of the night. and her eyes stayed glued towards the distance, juxtaposing the way his ones remained fixed onto her.

"please look at me" woonhak practically begs, not really knowing when or how his voice got so small. the girl's breath hitches, tears threating to spill out of her eyes as she lets out a sigh and closes them shut. "yn..." he drags out, a shaky hand reaching over to turn her head to face his. "please?" he asks again. this time, she opens her eyes, tearing up slightly at the very sight of him. she couldn't do it anymore. she can't sit there and pretend to hate him, pretend to be angry at him, pretend she didn't miss him. she can't lie anymore. "woonhak" she says, her voice warmer now and a hint of content laced in the way that she spoke. "hey" he said, a smile beginning to grow against his face. "hey" she repeated, her own lips flipping up as well.

"i'm so sorry" the boy says, scooting to sit closer to her. "why? i should be the sorry one, i was being inconsiderate and-" the girl couldn't finish. "no! i was being selfish. this whole idol thing...it's so busy but that doesn't mean i get to be a total asshole about it to you...so, i'm sorry, yn" the features on her face soften as she looks into the genuine sorrow in his own. she lets out a laugh, confusing the boy a little. "don't worry...i get it. i guess i just...missed you, a little, that's all" yn reasons, a sweet smile tugging at her mouth as she slowly leans her head against his shoulder. woonhak reacts almost immediately, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her deep into his embrace. "i...i missed you too"

"what's in the bag?"

the boy sits up straight when her question slips into his ears. "ah! this...this is just a gift i got you...um...here!" he stutters a bit, suddenly flustered by his own romantic gesture. "for me?!" she gasps and he nods, scratching the back of his head, though there was nothing itchy about it at all. "wow...rising rookie idol kim woonhak of boynextdoor bought little ol' me a gift?!" now he rolls his eyes, as if he were telling his girlfriend to shut up and open it already.

"what is it...?" yn mumbles just above a whisper, carefully opening up the ribbon and revealing the insides of the pink paper bag. her mouth drops open as she pulls the bear out, squealing all too loudly as her eyes adored the jersey-wearing teddy bear in her hands. "ah! i love it i love it!" she cheered, wrapping the doll in her arms and hugging it so tight it might just explode. her eyes gleamed, looking up at her boyfriend then back at the bear and then right back at him again. "where's the birth certificate thingy...wait" yn spoke, looking back in the bag for the printed piece of paper. "hah!" she exclaimed, her smile reaching her eyes as she read through her doll's information. "birth name...kim unak...how...fitting" she said, shooting her boyfriend a look of slight disbelief he would name a doll after himself. "hey! don't look at me like that, some kid said he looked like me!" woonhak argued, grabbing the bear and holding it up beside his face. "hm...the kid was so right" yn replied, finding the resemblance quite cute.

"thank you woonhak, i love it..." her loving expression as she patted a hand against the fur of the stuffed toy's head was enough to satisfy the boy for the rest of his life. "oh! and...um...if you ever miss me when i'm busy...just press on his hand- but not right now! it's embarrassing! do it later!" he panics, sighing in relief when she moves her hand away from the heart-shaped patch on the bear's one. "okay then..."

the rest of the night was spent in peace. just a couple of sweet teens finding comfort in each other's arms after being separated from each other for far too long (it's been like two days pls don't be dramatic). "and so then i told professor yang about it and he totally freaked and...are you even listening to me?" yn stops mid-story, her head that laid on his lap shifting slightly to get a better look at his face. the face that stayed still staring at her blankly, his large hand mindlessly stroking her hair as she talked about whatever it was that he didn't really seem to be listening to well enough. "hello? woonhak?" he shook his head, "huh? what? sorry...i got kind of distracted" she chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully as she sits back up. "am i distracting you with my beauty again?" yn teases, loving the way his cheeks grow red and his hands fly up to cover his face. she giggles, pushing the boy down on his shoulders, sending him toppling on his back onto the grass.

she hovers over him, moving his hands away so she could see him clearly against the bright moonlight. the boy smiles softly at her, reaching up to push her hair behind her ears. his hand lingers, moving to cup at her blushy cheeks. yn giggles, finding his touch ticklish against her skin. "yn..." he begins, voice rather raspy from the way he fully laid down on the ground. "mhm?" she hums, head tilting to the side in curiosity as her boyfriend sat up again.

"i love you"

his voice was clear now, not a single bit of shakiness or fear in the way that he spoke. she smiled, not even a little bit shocked from the words that came out of his mouth because she knew. she knew all along that he felt that way, and she knew that she had always felt the same way for him too, she had just been waiting for the right moment where one of them would say it out loud first. yn presses a hand on either side of his warm complexion, pulling him in for a short kiss. it was sweet, a honey flavour from her lip-balm seeping onto his tongue. then they parted, hands still holding onto each other's faces and she smiles, he's grinning with all his teeth showing.

"i love you too, woonhak"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

later that night when yn ln got home, she hastily kicked off her shoes and ran straight to her bedroom. she didn't even care to properly put away her bag and her coat, jumping straight onto her bed and pulling out the brown teddy her boyfriend had gifted her earlier.

"...if you ever miss me when i'm busy...just press on his hand" his words replayed in her mind, "press on his hand..." she whispered to herself, carefully gripping onto the stuffed toy's hand, putting just enough pressure on it until she heard a click of a button. a moment of silence engulfed the atmosphere around her, just a moment before woonhak's voice began to sing out of the cheapest sounding speaker located within the bear.

"Mm mm 지금 내 playlist...금요일에 시간 어때요? 내 새벽을 망치지 마요..."

his own song, his debut song. he sang it just for her. her own serenade to listen to whenever they couldn't meet...

aw, rising rookie idol kim woonhak from boynextdoor...what a sweetheart, you are <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i'm home! hyung...? what are you guys laughing about?" woonhak furrows his eyebrows as he walks towards the living room. riwoo sighs, calming down from his fit of laughter. "so...did she like the build-a-bear?" he asked, breaking into hysterics once again, as did the others. "huh? WHAT HOW'D YOU FIND OUT?" the maknae boy couldn't believe his ears, eyes widening and mouth dropping opened. "woonhak...it's all over the internet!" sungho exclaims, turning his phone over to show him the source of all their laughter right now.

"what...oh my god" the boy's whole body grows a ripe-tomato-shade of red. there, on the older member's screen, a fan-taken video of him at the build-a-bear store, the cap on his head failing to hide the obvious embarrassment on his face as he stands near the stuffing machine of the store, awkwardly wishing his newly stuffed teddy a good life and rubbing it's plastic heart within his palms.

at least his girlfriend's reaction was worth it...cause there's no fucking way his hyungs are ever gonna let this one go...EVER!

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i feel like this sucked but it's cute idk idk idk i just want loverboy woonhak so soososososo badly hes so sweet :( i locve him im crying while typing this btw hope u enjoyed TT reblogs n feedbacks r soso appreciated i love u guys so much. love, kona. MWAHHHH

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #woonhak #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor woonhak #bnd x reader #bnd woonhak #kim woonhak

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tetragonia · 8 months ago

Text

Midnight Repair Shop

John "Bucky" Egan x Female!Mechanic!Reader

Blurb: In the middle of the night, accompanied with the choruses of men from the Officer’s pub afar, Bucky saw the hangar light was on. He peeked and found Jerry to his Tom—(Y/N), one of the mechanics whose side job apparently was to annoy him. It was that one time when Bucky and (Y/N) repaired not only the plane, but somehow their whole dynamics all these months.

warning: inaccuracies especially with the mechanical terms because I'm not used to them and just looked em up from the internet. also, maybe weird phrasing or grammatical incorrect since English is not my first language. pls let me know what I could do better <3

note: pure fluff and giggles, some arguments but all is good with our Bucky. this is my first mota fic out there and why shouldn't i choose our antic Bucky as the main character? ;) also, this is based on the portrayal of the actors from Masters of the Air. all respect to the veterans and family

words: 3160 (sorry!)

It was a sunny day as the sun was casting a golden hue over Thorpe Abbotts, the distant hum of aircraft engines signaled the approach of returning fighter planes. Among them was Major John Egan–”it’s just me, Bucky’s fine”–his B-17 streaking through the sky and leading the squadron. It was not an easy mission, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. The route was clear and the enemy’s cover was minimum.

With steady hands, Bucky guided his aircraft toward the runway as his eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of trouble. The roar of the engine filled the cockpit as he made minute adjustments to his altitude and speed, preparing for the critical moment of touchdown.

As the wheels of his B-17 made contact with the tarmac, Bucky maneuvered and smoothly brought it to a stop with. The plane rolled to a halt, its engine purring contentedly as Bucky taxied toward the waiting ground crew.

You were one of the ground crews, a skilled mechanic around the base. People knew your work ethic and they damn respected you out of it. And that clearly gave some benefits around here.

“Back from another joyride, Major?”

You emphasized the rank as Bucky made his way out from the cockpit. His flight suit was slightly disheveled, his hair was a bit scruffy but his smile was as bright as the summer sun. Brady jumped out, his eyes scanned you and Bucky.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“Capt,” you tilted your chin and raised your eyebrows slightly to acknowledge his presence.

“Joyride?” Bucky pulled your attention back at him. “More like a death-defying adventure, (Y/N). You know, I like to keep things exciting.”

“That ain’t exciting, bud,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Let’s see what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

You wasted no time inspecting the plane, your expert eye quickly picking up on any signs of damage. Still locking your eyes to the plane, you said, “I swear, Bucky, if next time you come back with another dent in your plane, I’m going to start charging you for the repairs. And trust me, it ain’t cheap.”

“Did you just threaten me?” he let out a dramatic gasp, putting his hand in front of his chest. “You know, I think I’m starting to rub off on you. After all, it truly takes a special kind of person to keep up with a pilot like me.”

Your hands ran through the plane’s body, bullet holes were scattered and some flak damages were tattooed to the metal skin. You suspected there were some engine reduction from the enemy’s fire, as well as control surface damage.

“You’re not the only one keeping me busy. I have plenty of other pilots crashing their planes too, creating these cute little bends and missing some rivets,” you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes again.

“You know, (Y/N), I’m starting to think you have a thing for me crashing. How else do you explain always being there to fix up my messes?” still in his dramatic tone, he raised an eyebrow at you.

You turned your head to him, trying to mimic his dramatic gasp earlied, “Oh my God! Weird thing is, I can’t imagine having this thing called a job! Have you ever heard of that?”

You lost count on rolling your eyes at him. He laughed faintly and started to walk away from you.

“Hey, (Y/N), if I had a penny for every time you gave me that look of disapproval, I’d have enough to buy myself a damn new plane. One that doesn’t need fixing every time I fly it.”

“Spare your voice for the interrogation, Bucky, you’re just talking shit right now,” you said dismissively. You could hear his ragged breath from your place, that man clearly needed to at least have a good hot chow.

“Ouch, that stings.”

Despite your dismissive tone, you couldn’t help but to let a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As the darkness draped itself over Thorpe Abbotts like a heavy cloak, the Officer's pub emerged as a sanctuary of warmth and light. The air was buzzing with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, faint laughters could be heard from afar. Bucky Egan was bathed in a warm, golden light from the row of lanterns that lined the walls. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling above him, their darkened surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the fire roaring in the hearth.

Around the room, Bucky found himself gathered at wooden tables with other airmen as the air was thick with the scent of pipe tobacco and the familiar aroma of alcohol, mingling with the lively strains of a piano being played in the corner.

“I don’t know, man. You seem pretty tipsy already,” Buck Cleven shook his head with a chuckle when Bucky offered to buy them another round of drinks. “I don’t want you stumbling into any trouble, you know.”

Hearing what his buddy said, Bucky laughed. “Me? Trouble? Com on, Buck, you know me better than that. I can handle myself just fine! Look at this.”

Bucky tried to jump from his seat to buy another round, but then he stumbled and let the men laugh as he landed in a weird position.

“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing with them too. He was just too damn charming to be ashamed, it’s alarming.

“No more drinks,” Bucky said, God knows to Buck or to himself.

“No more drinks,” Buck hummed the same chorus. Bucky laughed, shook his head faintly.

“I’m gonna head back,” he eventually reached a decision. “And I don’t want any of you to take me, feel like flying solo tonight. ‘Kay?”

“Sure, Bucky, whatever you want,” Brady laughed as he sipped his glass. With that, Bucky stumbled out into the cool night air, leaving the sounds of laughter and conversation that faded behind him. He took a deep breath, the crisp night air helped him clearing his muddled mind as he made his unsteady steps back to his barrack.

Humming sporadic notes from Bing Crosby, he noticed a faint flickering light shined through the windows from a hangar nearby with its door ajar. Curious, and perhaps a little tipsy, he decided to investigate.

Who the hell works at this hour, he thought to himself. With a curious tilt of his head, he veered off course, his feet guiding him toward the source of lights. Peeking a bit, he was greeted by the sight of your back, working on his plane.

Bucky sauntered in, his flight jacket slung over one shoulder, a cocky grin plastered across his face. He squinted against the sudden brightness, his eyes struggling to adjust to the harsh contrast after the darkness outside. Blinking rapidly, he stumbled forward, laughing at his own stupidity. And he might or might not realize that he always felt way more stupid around you, throwing all those flirts and banters like a loony.

“Hey there, (Y/N)! Patching up the old birds, are we?” Bucky slurred slightly.

You turned your head at him, still on your workbench raising an eyebrow at Bucky’s disheveled appearance.

“Looks like someone had a bit too much to drink tonight,” you made a remark as you continued working gunning the rivets. “Too much liquid courage at the pub?”

Bucky chuckled, he leaned against a nearby box for support. “Liquid courage? More like liquid genius! But hey, I couldn’t resist the chance to see your pretty face before I hit the hay.”

Bucky grinned stupidly at your back as he heard you replied monotonously, “Oh lucky me. The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.”

He laughed at your dry response, stepped in. “Nah, just needed a little pick-me-up after a long day of saving the world. You know how it is.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smile at Bucky’s antics. You’ve gotten used to all that now, working side by side for a couple months.

“Yeah, yeah, the brave pilot routine. I’ve heard it all before. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”

As Bucky watched you expertly finish tinkering the body, you couldn’t help but admire your skill and determination. God knows since when you had worked on his plane today!

He leaned against the nearby workbench, his grin widening. “It’s your touch that keeps her purring, (Y/N). Without you, she’d be just another hunk of metal gathering dust.”

You rolled your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, flyboy. You’re not fooling anyone with your smooth talk.”

“Hey, I’m just stating facts!”

“Yeah, and Hitler’s a good man. Now do me a favor, hand me the rivet gun over there,” you asked, tilting your head to the tool box.

Your hand brushed with his as he handed you the rivet gun. The wind suddenly swirled around the hangar and you shuddered at the chills down your spine. You took the gun swiftly and placed it over the exposed end of the rivet shaft. You securely fastened patches of those new aluminum sheets metal onto the wing, covering the bullet holes.

You’d been fixing the engine with Ken all day, finished just before the curfew. To clear your mind, you decided to fix the panels tonight as you asked Ken to get a hot chow. After some good arguments thrown from you, Ken gave up and walked away.

And here you were, in the hangar with the famous Bucky Egan. You’d been working with him for months, yet you didn’t know if he made all those compliments and flattery to other women as well. There weren’t any female mechanics around here and you knew he had his own way with women.

Flattery didn’t get him anywhere, but it got you somewhere.

You decided to break the silence, “You know, Bucky, I’m starting to think you pilots have a secret competition to see who can wreck their plane the most. Am I right?”

To hide whatever feelings that tried to surface, you put your familiar mask–strict, to the point, and sometimes a bit offensive. That way, you could protect yourself.

“Am clearly the best,” from the corner of your eyes, you could see him nodded and smiling. Suddenly it was so infuriating, how smiley he always was, how cheerful and friendly he was to you. How easy he was to throw compliments, and how easy he was to look at her with such adoration.

“Yeah, I've always thought you were a great pilot. Shame you're not quite as good at keeping your plane in one piece.”

You were unable to keep your feelings now. It was bottled up all this time. You were tired, hungry, and thirsty. You were vulnerable.

“Hey, hey, now,” Bucky might be a bit drunk but he wasn’t stupid. Something in the air shifted, your tone was harsh. Too harsh for his liking and your own good. Your tone was aggressive and he felt like you tried to hurt him with your remarks. Usually, they were all harmless, he even found you funny. But what was with the sudden change of tone?

“Come on, now. Why do you always pick on me?” Bucky tried to remain calm.

Forgot being calm! You were raging all of sudden. “Why would I pick on you, stop being so full of yourself.”

That’s it. That was the last straw.

“Hey, that stings!” Bucky was flustered, he walked closer to you, gaze piercing your back.

You sighed. You’re tired. You’ve been working all day and haven’t eaten since 8 am. It’s somewhere over 12 am now.

Fuck, you muttered to yourself. You need to shape the replacement panels to match the contours of the wing’s surface before riveting them. You got up and walked to the sheet metal bender, but Bucky stopped you.

With the faint hangar light on top of you both, now Bucky could fully take a look at your current state. You knew you looked terrible.

“Okay, you need to stop,” Bucky sighed. “Go to your barrack. You need to sleep.”

“I need to work.”

“She can wait. I’ll ask Lemmons to patch her up early in the morning,” Bucky said, his voice was authoritative. “Now, let’s get you some sleep.”

“No,” you tried to walk to the metal bender but his grip was strong.

“Come on, or I’m gonna abduct you.”

You almost rolled your eyes at that, but he quickly swept you off the ground. “Hey! Put me down!”

Despite the serious and cold air surrounding you both earlier, you could see how Bucky giggled. You always acted all tough, but you were just a girl for him. Your strength couldn’t even match him.

She’s cute, you didn’t know Bucky thought that right now.

He thought this was all just a joke, your mind stated.

“Nah, I’ll put you on your bed myself.”

You huffed in frustration, your attempts to free yourself only serving to make Bucky hold on tighter. "This isn't funny, Bucky! Put me down right now!"

But before Bucky could respond, his foot caught on a stray toolbox lying on the floor, sending you both tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. With a yelp of surprise, you landed on top of him, your bodies pressed together in an awkward and unexpected embrace.

For a moment, you lay there in stunned silence, the only sound filling the air was the pounding of your hearts.

With a stupid grin on his face, Bucky smiled surprisingly sweetly, “Hello.”

As the realization of your predicament sunk in, your cheeks flushed crimson, maybe with anger or maybe with something else.

"Are you kidding me, Bucky?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself off him with a scowl. "I told you to put me down!"

Bucky winced while grinning sheepishly, rubbing his head where it had collided with the floor. He was fully sober now, thanks for the thud. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I didn't mean for us to fall."

You crossed your arms over your chest, your expression still stormy. "Well, it's not funny. You could have seriously injured yourself. You’re one of the best pilots we’ve got, what would happen if you got hurt?!"

Bucky sighed, his earlier amusement fading as he met your angry gaze. He got up, walked a step closer to you.

"You need to be worried about yourself. What is it, (Y/N)? You’re not usually this… tensed. Is something bothering you?”

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder. You stiffened at his touch, jerking away as if scalded.

"I'm fine," you snapped, your tone once again sharp and defensive.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, hurt flickering in his eyes. "Hey, I was just asking. You don't have to bite my head off."

You didn’t want to meet his gaze. Your eyes wandered to the floor that suddenly became so interesting.

But you knew that Bucky wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily. "I don't buy it, (Y/N). You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

You scoffed, rubbed your eyes slowly, “It’s nothing.”

“Hey, tell me,” Bucky now grabbed your arms and once again you stiffened at his gesture. You looked up as your gaze fell to his, eyes blinked rapidly. Your cheeks flushed as you once again broke eye contact and looked at the new interesting thing: the metal bender.

And a realization hit Bucky like a lightning. The way you laughed or rolled your eyes at his jokes despite being known as a serious fella, the way you looked at him before he took off, the way you always kept some distance…

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice softened. “I’ve never been this straightforward, but we don’t have much time… Do you like me?”

He could feel your muscles tensed under his touch. You still refused to look at him.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Where did the tough, no-nonsense (Y/N) go?

“Hey, (Y/N), look at me,” Bucky asked you gently. He knew for sure that you held a feeling for him and he was too damn stupid to realize. He tried so hard to suppress his smile.

You looked up, his expression was soft and his eyes fixed on you with a gleam that made the butterflies crazy inside your stomach. You thought about every possible reaction: rejections, lots of yelling, a broken respect and trust, no more jokes and friendships… But you didn’t expect when he leaned closer and brought you in, when his lips touched yours with a gentleness you could only imagine.

Bucky’s lips tasted like a good amount of mint and alcohol mixture. You were intoxicated. He put his hand on your hip, the other caressed your cheek. His touch was a gentle yet firm anchor, drawing you closer to him in a silent declaration of desire. Your fingers traced the curves of your hips with a tender reverence, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you melted into his embrace.

He’d never imagine touching you, grabbing your crinkled jumpsuit as he kissed you deeper, his hands wandered. You felt a rush of warmth spreading through your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn’t ignore. His hands, strong and sure from years of training, held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His touch was both possessive and protective all at once.

When you both pulled away, trying to catch a breath, you saw Bucky smiling. His hands were still on your hips, now the right one stroke your cheek and your lips.

"You know, (Y/N), I've always admired you. The way you always know your way around an engine, your work ethic, your remarks, your replies to my jokes… I've always thought you were pretty amazing,” he whispered. “The way you handle those machines... it's something else. That’s why I always send my plane to you."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at the unexpected compliments, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. You were anything but flushed and fluttered.

"Well, I guess someone has to keep you flyboys in the air. Can't have you crashing and burning without us, right? You better treat her right up there or I'll make sure your next landing isn't so smooth."

Bucky grinned, feeling a surge of confidence after a heavy cloud towering you both earlier.

"Hey, what do you say we had a drink tomorrow? I’d like to discuss tonight's matter, after you had a good rest of course.”

Your heart raced at the thought of spending more time with Bucky outside of work. You were exhausted, but after what happened tonight, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

"I suppose one drink couldn't hurt. But don't think this means I'm going easy on you, Bucky. I've got a reputation to uphold, after all."

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