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januaryembrs · 7 months ago

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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression.

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul.

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl.

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek.

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal.

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie.

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not.

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before.

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his.

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,”

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them.

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,”

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t.

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word.

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him.

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,”

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil.

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together.

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice.

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning.

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask.

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee.

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her.

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,”

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore.

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable.

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating.

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel.

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue.

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question.

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?”

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly.

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him.

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror.

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy.

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her.

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her.

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague.

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that.

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor.

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning.

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive.

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house.

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?”

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud.

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features.

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole.

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it.

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,”

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified.

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window.

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?”

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would.

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it.

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of.

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies.

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face.

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love.

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,”

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft.

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too.

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response.

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months.

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem.

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him.

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time.

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world.

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips.

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,”

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground.

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped.

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?”

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?”

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?”

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right.

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 2 months ago

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Imagine this

I've been reading some of this good fics about Yandere Batfam x neglected Reader and it got me thinking.

In some of this fic, usually it's Alfred that has given the reader some love and have not neglected the poor thing and I was like,

What if Reader is still neglected by the batfam but Alfred gave them enough love so much that reader just decided to stay just for Alfred and Reader really just treated Alfred as their real Father or Grandfather.

Where Reader just let go of any expectation from getting attention from the others and just strive to make Alfred proud and happy.

How the turns have table

Imagine reader walking pass the others not bothering to greet them as they look for Alfred instead and other stuff.

Dick seeing them practically skipping as they clutch on a medal hanging on their neck.

"Woah hey!-...um whatcha got-". He tries to say but doesn't get any answers because you were busy muttering to yourself 'I got first place! I have to show this to Alfred!' as you giggle while looking down at the medal and sprint away when you see a glimpse of the butler at the distance.

How instead of begging for the others to train you and become a vigilante, you ask Alfred to train you for self-defense (especially the stuff from his spy days).

Jason was the first to arrive at the manor when the team heard about some intruders getting in but halted when he sees you tying up the unconscious thugs on the floor.

"Hey Alfred is this right?". You didn't pay them any mind when some of them pile in as you pay attention to Alfred who was praising you and giving you more good defense tips while you and him pull the unconscious people out.

How you spend healthy family time with Alfred by helping him in cooking and chores that earns you some knowledge of the recipes from his famous dishes.

Tim was trying to grab a coffee when he sees you having a fun time with Alfred as you skillfully prepare for dinner and actually have good laughs with him.

"Okay, then after I fold this I should add some paprika, right?". You ask the butler as he smiles at you while sipping on the tea that you made for him.

"Yes, you're correct once again young miss/master". He said while humming after drinking the tea indicating how good it is.

Tim can practically see you lighting up as you cheered a 'yes!' from Alfred's confirmation.

How you revolved your time and passion to Alfred and actually deciding that only Alfred is the one you should waste your time on.

Damian wonders around the manor when you and him bump into one another.

"And what are YOU doing walking around MY Father's manor?". He asks while glaring at you.

you just sigh and turn while clutching away the art supplies you bought so you can paint in the garden with Alfred.

"Walking away from you that's what I'm doing". you tell him as you turn the other way not even bothering to argue with the boy anymore.

How you do well in your studies and aim to get a good degree/phd and act like a proper man/lady but not because you want to keep up to being a Wayne but to see Alfred's proud face as he watches you stand on the stage as you show him your diploma/degree certificate.

Bruce decided to take a walk from sitting down for too long when he walk pass a framed picture on the hallway near Alfred's room and double takes when he sees you and Alfred standing together with while you were wearing a toga and cap holding not just any graduation certificate but a college one as the both of you look so happy and him seeing Alfred having that loving and well pleased expression something he rarely sees from Alfred after becoming the crusading dark knight.

Looking at the date he couldn't believe that it has been more that a few years since the graduation happened.

All of the family who used to ignore you suddenly took a different turn and started to try and get your attention but they fail to see that you already moved on from them and only cared about the one person that have literally loved you from the beginning.

Bonus:

Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne was mysteriously revived for a day and met the family but was deeply disappointed to the others and took a special liking to reader because Alfred has said many good things about them and them especially getting many good degrees something that the rest haven't gotten yet or never bothered to get (this is my hot take because my family are hellbent on us cousins to finish school) and you know for a fact that Alfred is really REALLY proud of the kid that he raised preciously

#x neglected reader #batfam x reader #yandere #yandere batfam

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teddybeartoji · 7 months ago

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18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

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clockwayswrites · 4 months ago

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Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

#dp x dc #birdritch

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

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Not me being an absolute slut for step dad Gojo and Uncle Nanami!?!? 😩 sharing is caring!

-Very Much Embarrassed Anon🫂

PERHAPS i got carried away but i hope u enjoy this !! luxe write something under 1k challenge: impossible x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, step/incest, fem!reader, step dad!gojo, uncle!nanamin, implied virgin!reader, threesome, vaginal sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, tit sucking, possessive!gojo, daddy kink, praise, pull out method, orgasm denial, noncon photo taking, slight oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking.

words: 2.7k

“You know you’re too young for boys, right?” your step-father reminds you, like it’s a mantra he’s told you again and again for years. It isn’t a suggestion or a thought he’s choosing to share. It’s an instruction. “I don’t want you to think because you’re all grown up and going to college now that you can be reckless.”

“I- I know, Satoru.” you smile at him.

Both of your attention is stolen as you hear your uncle, Kento, laugh out a scoff. He tries to conceal it as he ruffles his newspaper and drinks his coffee. You see your step-dad’s brows furrow in annoyance. Or, anger. He looks at you, again, and his expression softens.

“I know you’re a good girl, sweetheart.” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your form and placing a kiss atop your head. Nanami’s eyes peer over his newspaper, locking with yours. A knowing glance to each other before a smirk finds his features. He raises his newspaper, shielding his face completely as he tries to focus on reading.

He lets you go, reluctantly, as you pick up your college bag and grab your phone.

His expression sours as he sees you reach for your phone, smiling at a text message you received. He shouldn’t pry. He knows he shouldn’t pry. But he can’t seem to stop himself as he finds himself leaning across the kitchen island and snatching your phone from your hands. And now he scoffs, scrolling through your messages and looking at the name at the top.

“What did I just say?” he speaks, only an octave away from yelling at you. Your lip wobbles, and he keeps your phone at arm’s length as you try to grab for it. He tosses it towards the kitchen table so Kento can look for himself.

“He was just asking if I needed picking up for my classes, Satoru! You don’t need to worry…” you tell him. Of course this would happen. He’s always been stupidly over protective.

“Well you don’t, do you? That’s what I’m here for. Hell, I’m sure even Nanami would be happy to take you since he came all of this way to spend his off time visiting you.” Gojo reminds you. And you feel a slight pang of guilt at that. You know how hard your poor uncle Nanamin works. He could be on vacation, somewhere tropical, unwinding from the humdrum of his boring office job. But here he is, sitting reading the newspaper and listening to you two argue with each other. “In fact, you’re grounded. I’m keeping your phone and you can forget about going to class today.”

“But—!”

“Don’t whine, I’ll write you a note.” he adds, walking around the counterspace to collect your phone from Nanami. He finishes scrolling, locking it, though he keeps hold of it. “Go upstairs.”

You huff, but grab your bag and do as you’re told. It’s not like he can stop you from being online. You can talk to people on your laptop, after all. Though given the mood he’s in you suppose you’ll have to be stealthy about it.

“You’re too harsh on her.” Kento tells Satoru, earning another disgruntled glance from him. He closes his newspaper and rests an ankle over his knee as he leans back and drinks the remainder of his coffee. “She’s curious, you can’t do anything about that. It’s not like she’ll stay a virgin forever.”

“Tch. Spare me.” he laughs lightly. “You think I don’t know why you’re here? I hear you, you know, when you sneak into her room at night.”

And Gojo revels in how the colour drains from Nanami’s face. He sits upright, his back stiffened straight and he starts to loosen his tie. He should have known, really, it was too good to be true. He should have known he’d always get caught eventually. But by Satoru Gojo of all people?

“I haven’t…” he clears his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Sure.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “If I’m bein’ honest… I don’t really care. Who am I to stop you? I’m not blood… like you. Sick fuck.” he laughs, sitting down at the table and looking into Nanami’s panic-stricken eyes.

Your uncle rests his elbows on the table and holds his head in his hands. What is Gojo plotting? Blackmail of some kind, maybe. It’s not like he’s concealed his disapproval for his sisters relationship with him. He’s tolerated him, sure, but he’s a nuisance he thinks his family would be better off without.

“I don’t like this either.” he throws your phone towards the white-haired man and sighs. “But she doesn’t respect you, Satoru. She doesn’t even call you dad. I think she sees you as temporary, so of course she isn’t going to listen to you. Not really.”

“But…” he leans over the table with a smug grin. “She respects you, doesn’t she? Her favourite uncle. I don’t like college guys, I remember what we were like in college, I don’t want her around that.”

“No… maybe she won’t go searching for it if she’s better educated.”

Gojo’s brow quirks in intrigue, a sadistic smile soon follows.

“Who knew a corporate goon could be such a sick fuck, hah?” Gojo laughs, picking up Nanami’s coffee mug for him and walking it to the sink to clean. Nanami rolls his eyes, burying his reddening face in his newspaper again.

You feel a surge of fear stab through you as you hear footsteps climb up the stairs. You hide your laptop back into your bag and turn on your TV, hurrying to find something to watch as a cover. But when you hear a knock, you relax, Satoru never knocks.

“Come in!” you speak, happily, welcoming your favourite and only uncle Nanamin into your room. Though your heart sinks as your step-father follows, crossing your arms across your chest as you huff and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be like that…” Nanami speaks softly, sitting on the edge of your bed and resting his hand on your thigh. “We need to talk to you. And we want to ask you something.” he continues. Your pout fades, then, a slight feeling of anxiety creeps into you as you wonder if something serious has happened.

And Satoru sits on the edge of the bed, too, his beaming blue eyes almost pierce through your heart as he begins to explain. How he’s just worried about you because he knows from experience how college guys can be. How he’s your dad no matter what and he just wants the best for you. And he thinks you need a little help in the right direction on your journey of self-discovery.

“I know you’re a woman now, sweetheart, but you’re still daddy’s little girl. Yeah? So, let daddy help.”

“He- with what?” you blink at him, dumbly, and the delighted snarl on his face almost chills you to the bone. He doesn’t speak right away, so you look at Nanami. But it’s like he can’t bear to look at you as he sinks his head low with shame. “With what?” you ask again.

“Well, Nanami said you’re curious. So he’s been fucking you, right?”

“No!” you and your uncle yell simultaneously. Did he really tell your insufferable step-father something so personal?

“I told you, I haven’t slept with her. Don’t tease her or you’ll make things worse.” Nanami clarifies before he focuses his attention on you. “But you are curious, aren’t you? You’re getting attention from boys and you’re enjoying it, clearly. They aren’t good for you though, princess. They don’t know how to treat girls right.”

You hum, softly, as he pushes your legs apart, revealing your pink cotton panties to the two of them as they continue to talk you through their thought process. And the touch of your uncle Nanamin is your ultimate weakness. They both get a live response to his action as your pretty pussy starts to gift your panties with a dark, sticky patch between your dewy folds.

“Boys that age, sweetheart, they don’t know what they’re doing. Do you touch yourself? ‘m sure you do, I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. But that means you like to cum, yeah? These college guys don’t care about that. They just want a little hole to cum in and defile. And we think you deserve better than that.” Satoru explains, his inquisitive fingers begin to prod at your puffy cunt, though you trap his hand between your plush thighs.

“Satoru…” you respond, bashfully.

“No.” he speaks, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down the bed and towards himself. He looks mad, but there’s no real malice behind it. Still your heart is pounding. “I’m your dad like he is your uncle. I’m not Satoru. Who am I?” he asks, reaching under your skirt to pull down your panties.

“D-Daddy… you’re daddy. ‘m sorry.” you whimper. Your eyes flutter as his long fingers invade your pretty, virgin walls. “Hng—!”

“Gooood girl.” he smiles as he begins to curl them upwards. “I slipped right on in, has uncle Kento gotten you used to taking his fingers?”

“Mhmm…” you blush. The man in question bends down to kiss you.

It’s sweet, though you find yourself grabby and desperate as you follow his lead. He pulls away to undress you, unbuttoning your shirt and then his own after throwing away his tie. He helps you out of your bra, and you instinctively go to cover your nipples as you remember who you’re actually in the company of. But Nanami doesn’t want that. He locks his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he begins to suckle on them until they’re both puckered and raw.

“Sit her up, and sit behind her.” Satoru tells his brother-in-law. And of course he acquiesces. You’re moved like you’re weightless as your uncle sits behind you, his clothed cock pressing angrily into the curve of your spine as he continues to torment your tits. Satoru pulls his fingers out of your cunt and sucks them clean, smiling at how your eyes begin to sparkle with wonder as he puts on such a display. “Do not tell your mother about this, understand?”

You nod, obediently. You wouldn’t dream of telling her something so scandalous. Though it does fill you with a slight sense of pride as your Satoru makes it abundantly clear how desperately he’d longed to be the first person to explore your untouched core. He pulls down his trousers and you moan at his smooth, pink cockhead. Though right now it’s closer to an angry shade of red.

He really is desperate.

You wince, slightly, as he pushes his tip inside. Though he retracts it, coating his head in your wetness.

“Fuuuuck, you weren’t lyin’. You really never fucked her, huh Nanami?” Gojo chuckles as he pushes in deeper and deeper. Nanami slots his fingers into your mouth to suck on as you accommodate to the length. “Relax, baby. Clampin’ so much you’re gonna push me out.” he laughs shallowly, his thrusts matching as he begins to work you open.

“D-Daddy!” you gasp, back arching against Nanami’s chest before he pulls you back towards him.

“We’re so proud of you, princess.” Nanami shushes you, placing a kiss to your temple. You look at him with wide, trusting eyes, though he can’t really concentrate as his own fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust Gojo inflicts onto you. “Why don’t you show your dad how I taught you to suck cock, hm?”

“Oh? Now that I’d like to see.” Gojo smiles, pulling out of you briefly. The sound of your sticky walls echoes through the room as he pulls out. The men help you onto all fours, and your daddy slots himself right back into your tight heat. The adjusted angle makes you fall forward, your head lolling as he finds a nice little trigger inside of you. “Oh… there, huh? Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you right there.” Satoru tells you as he begins to fuck into you before slowing down.

Nanami takes his cock out of his briefs, tapping the tip against your swollen lips. They open, obediently, and you lick the precum he’s spilling directly from the source. Your hole flutters as he hisses, enamoured by the sensation.

“Perfect, princess. Such a good little girl for me.” Kento comments, and your heart beats harder. You’re almost robbed of all sense as Gojo pistons his hips into you, and he leans forward to grab your hair and wrap it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Kento, maybe we should teach her how college boys fuck. Since she wanted that experience so badly.” Satoru proposes, and Nanami considers it. He really considers it. And Gojo chuckles at that. “Go on… show her.”

Nanami nods, grabbing the sides of your head and fucking your face like you’re his own personal cocksleeve.

It’s relentless and dizzying and you don’t know how to settle. You can’t possibly as you’re ruined from both ends. There’s no reprieve, there’s no way to relax. You’re trembling and moaning and fuck you never knew sex could be so intense. Nanami is always calm and patient with you. But this isn’t that.

They’ve ran out of patience with you.

It doesn’t matter which way you try to retreat, you’re only encouraging the other one. More of Nanami’s cock down your throat and more of Gojo’s hitting your g-spot.

“W-We’ll have to get you on the pill, sweetheart.” Gojo tells you, but it’s more like he’s telling himself. He knows he can’t cum inside. He can’t, but fuck, he wants to. He fucking needs to. “College guys, they like- leaving their- mark.” he thrusts again and again until he’s on the very brink of blowing his load. But his life won’t be worth living if he knocks his cute little daughter up. His marriage will be over. He’ll lose everything.

And with that, he pulls out and coats your pussy lips with his sperm. The loss of feeling from inside makes you cry out around Nanami’s length, though you still can’t pull away from him as he continues to use your mouth as his own personal toy. You never knew your uncle Nanamin had this side to him.

He’s usually so sweet and patient.

He pulls out, too, depriving you of the taste of his cum and the chance to prove what a good girl you are. Though you take his load beautifully as he shoots soupy ropes across your pretty face. His heart skips a beat as your false lashes flutter and he realises a heavy glob stuck to them.

“College guys, sweetheart, might take pictures of you like this.” Satoru pulls his phone from his back pocket and takes a few photos of your quivering cunt. You’ve been neglected in the worst way, and it’s dawning on you now what he had meant by giving you the college experience. He tosses his phone to Nanami, encouraging him to do the same. Your innocent and betrayed face is captured so perfectly through the lens of the phone, Nanami’s pearly seed is the perfect colour for your complexion.

“College guys would send these around to their friends too, you know.” Nanami warns you.

“But we’ll just keep these between ourselves.” Satoru promises you. “I think it’s only fair we didn’t let you cum this time since you were so intent on disobeying your daddy.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson, though, Satoru.” Nanami speaks, pulling your hair so that you can look up at him and he can identify if you dare to lie to him. “Fucking college boys doesn’t sound that fun anymore, does it? Say sorry, princess. Your dad might let you cum next time if you’re a good girl.”

You sniff, and hiccup, unsure of where to look.

“’m s-sorry, daddy.” you sniffle, Nanami releases your hair and allows you to look back at Gojo, a wild grin on his face.

“Awe… sweet.” Gojo smiles, circling the bed so he’s standing beside Nanami, both of their eyes bore down at you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “I think we’re owed a thank you, we took the time to teach you such an important lesson, after all.”

“T-Thank you,” you sniff, again, “Thank you, d-daddy. Thank you, uncle Nanamin.”

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marvelwitchergilmore · 3 months ago

Text

A Good Man

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan Howlett is a good man. At least, that's what you keep telling him.

Disclaimer: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Steam (figuratively and literally), swearing. Logan is the good guy and you prove it to him. Fluff, cuteness, Logan in a flower crown, angst, happy ending, mentions of Halloween and Christmas. Descriptions of period pains, The Addams Family reruns. Again, MDNI. Not Proof Read.

For as long as you had known Logan, you had known he was a good man.

It didn’t matter what other people said about him, or what he even said about himself. To you, he would always be a good man.

And that was something you always tried to remind him of.

The first time it happened, it had just rolled off the tongue. Of course, you knew you meant it and at the time, you didn’t notice the way Logan’s eyes told you the sad truth that he didn’t believe you.

It had been one early October morning. You had spent most of the night staying up to cut out some felt and cardboard shapes for your classroom to decorate not only for the fall season but also for Halloween.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be awake that early so when Logan walked into your classroom just ten minutes after you had returned back to your seat on the floor, practically drowning in Halloween cut-outs.

“Here.”

Holding down the coffee holder, you were presented with the second cup in the holder, your name written on the side in Logan’s handwriting.

Still waking up from three and a half hours sleep, you looked up a little shocked. But calmed the minute you saw his own tired smile looking back at you. “Go on.”

Taking the coffee cup from the holder, you brought it close to you, your hands enveloping the hot surface. One sniff and you knew what it was instantly.

“Oh, my god. You are a saint, Logan.”

Logan couldn’t fully look at you, feeling a little heat on his cheeks. “Yeah, well…don’t mention it.”

He brought his own coffee to his lips as he placed the empty holder onto a nearby desk before walking around you and your sea of Halloween, placing one hand in his pocket as he nursed his coffee.

“What are you doing?”

You looked around yourself after taking a sip of your drink. It was perfect.

“Decorating.”

“Aren’t they meant to be on the walls instead of the floor?”

You nodded. “They will be…if I can get them finished in time.”

Logan took a scope of the decorations before taking off his leather jacket, folding it and throwing it over your desk chair.

“What-What are you doing?”

Logan placed down his coffee on your desk before removing his second plaid shirt. “Helping. Here, you’re cold.”

Logan draped his shirt over your shoulders and you were instantly hit with his warmth and his scent that was still prominent on his jacket.

“Thank you.”

Putting your arms through, you fastened a couple of buttons. Meanwhile, Logan pushed some of the decorations aside and sat adjacent to you.

First he picked up an unorganised pile of themed worksheets, flipping through a couple of them. Tapping them down, you pulled your coffee away from your lips. “The paper cutter is-”

As you pointed to the desk behind him, Logan’s claws came out and he just shot you a smirk before swiping down the edges. You pulled back, eyes a little wider. “Or you could just do that.”

Logan let out a small chuckle before doing the same to the other three edges.

For the smaller cut-outs, he did use the pair of scissors you gave him.

“How did you know I was awake?” You asked Logan after a few minutes.

“I didn’t. But I knew you had a late night. Figured coffee couldn’t hurt.”

You smiled, watching where your scissors were slowly going round the corners of the apple tree you were cutting. “You’re a good man, Logan. Not many people would be up this early and bring me coffee.”

A few hours later, everything was finished being cut and Logan leaned back on his hands as he sat on the floor. You were still in his shirt. Was it wrong for him to be admiring how better you looked in his clothes than he did?

“What do you think?”

Logan came back down to earth. “What?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Come and help me.”

Logan got to his feet, dusting off his jeans before walking behind you. “Pass me that?”

Logan did so and stood at the bottom of the ladder, holding it steady.

It wasn’t long before he himself was up another set of ladders, taking your instructions for how high to hold the bunting.

“Little further.”

“Any higher and it’ll be in the ceiling.”

You laughed. “Okay, that's perfect.”

By the end of the day, everything was finished and set up ready for a new week. And every time you looked around your classroom and saw the identical looks of wonder and excitement in the kids' eyes, proved that you were right.

Logan Howlett was a good man.

Two weeks later, a knock came to your door.

“Rogue? Is everything okay?”

She shook her head. “Sorta. Freya won’t let anyone brush her hair. She keeps saying it’s hurting her head.”

“Okay, I’m coming. Have you tried detangler spray?”

Rogue shook her head. “She won’t let anyone near her. It already took three of us to get her to shower.”

Finally getting to Rogue’s room, you knocked on the door. “Hey, Freya. What’s going on?”

“It really hurts.”

Rogue knelt beside you, in front of Freya. “Where does it hurt?”

Freya touched her head. “Here. It pulls really tight.”

“Okay.” You looked around. “Would it be okay if I put some magic spray on?”

“Magic spray?”

You nodded, nudging Rogue. Shuffling over, she grabbed the bottle from her desktop before handing it to you.

“What does it do?”

“Well,” you looked for the nozzle before turning it around and gently picking up the ends of her hair to spray it. “It helps the brush run smoothly down-”

Freya started to panic. “No, no. No. No brush.”

“Freya-”

“What’s going on?”

From the door, Logan was standing leaning against its frame.

“Freya’s hair sore.” You told him as he walked inside. “She won’t let anyone brush it.”

Logan slowly made his way inside. “Oh, no. That’s not good.”

Logan took a second before pulling his jeans a little to be able to crouch down. “I see Y/n’s already put some magic spray on it?”

Freya nodded. “She said it’s going to help.”

Logan nodded, placing down the bottle you handed him. “Well, that’s true.”

“Will you let me try and brush it?”

Freya debated the idea, fear still in her eyes before shaking her head.

“Okay, that’s okay.”

Then you had an idea.

But Logan beat you to it.

“Would it be okay if I tried?” Logan asked. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Freya, although still fearful, slowly handed Logan the brush she’d been holding in a death grip.

“Come and sit over here, honey.”

Freya stood up with Rogue’s help before Logan helped lift her onto the vanity stool and crouched behind her.

“Promise you’ll be gentle?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky swear.”

Logan spotted you and Rogue through the glass for a second before looking back at Freya and linking his pinky with hers.

It was the first time in a month Freya had sat down, quietly, and not cried or yelled out when someone was brushing her hair.

By the time Logan had finished, he didn’t know what to do. So, quickly, Rogue came back to his side. “Is it okay if I put it into a braid?”

Freya nodded. “Thank you, Professor Logan.”

Logan gave her a small smile and handed her the brush. “Anytime, kiddo.”

Standing back beside you, your arms crossed your chest and you nudged Logan a tad. “You’re a good man, Logan. Thank you.”

Logan shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets. “She’s a good kid. They all go through this phase. Some are worse than others.”

You smiled at him before looking back to where Rogue was explaining something to Freya.

“Do you know how to do that?”

You looked up at Logan. “What? Braid hair?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

He looked at you. “Could you…teach me?”

A slightly wider smile graced your face. “I’d be happy to.”

That was why a few hours later, Rogue was sitting in front of you, whilst Logan was sitting behind you, following along with how you were braiding Rogue’s hair.

“How do you even learn how to do this?”

“It’s just like riding a bike, Logan. Once you know how to do it, you will never forget it.”

Logan grumbled and let your hair fall through his fingers. Meanwhile, you slowly tugged at Rogue’s fresh braid until it had come undone.

“I’ll go slow. Just follow me. Split it into three.”

Logan did that.

“Take one outer section.”

Logan did that, too.

“And pull it across the middle.” You move the original middle section to the side before taking the other outer section and pulling that across to create a new middle.

“And you just keep repeating that until you get to the end of the hair, and finally, finish with a bobble.”

Logan had finally done it. It was loose, but he had done it.

Rogue’s watch went off. “Shoot. I was meant to meet Bobby.”

“Go ahead, just don’t wreck the kitchen this time.”

Rogue smiled. “We’ll try not to.”

Closing the door behind her, Rogue left.

You remained seated in front of Logan’s legs as he pulled the hair tie free and your braid fell out again. “Think you can do it on your own?”

Logan let out a breath and tried again. “Outer over middle?”

You nodded lightly. “And then the same on the other side. You’ll be doing french braids before you know it.”

“They can stay in France.”

Logan continued to braid down your hair. It had been years since someone had played with your hair, and you found it comforting. Raking his fingers from the top of your head, he split it into sections once more and you felt yourself falling asleep.

Less than a week later, you walked past the living room where you found Freya sat between Logan’s legs as he brushed and braided her hair.

The next morning you woke up with a smile at the memory before being hit with a dull punch to your lower abdomen.

You didn’t move for twenty minutes because every time you tried, it seemed to come back. But once it had finally passed, you forced yourself to sit up, your head feeling heavy before you looked at your bedsheets.

“Of course.”

For the next two days, all you wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Your period had decided to kick the shit out of you ever since it surprised you by coming a week earlier than expected.

And by the time Logan found you, you were sitting uncomfortably in the television room, watching reruns of the Addams Family.

“You look like hell.”

You gave a small sniff. “Feel like it, too.”

Logan pressed his hand to your head. “You’ve got a temperature.”

“It’s just hormones.”

Logan shook his head, pressing the back of his hand to your cheeks before pressing his fingers to your neck but you swatted him away.

“No, it’s not.”

“Logan, I’m on my period. A week early.”

Logan nodded. “I know. That’s why I brought you this.”

In his hand, Logan handed you a fresh hot water bottle and a packet of chocolate. “Oh, my god,” you sighed. “You’re a saint.”

You could have cried. Maybe you were.

You were in that much pain, you couldn’t exactly tell.

Sitting beside you, Logan pulled a blanket over your bottom half as you held the hot water bottle against you and snuggled into his side.

And for the next hour and a half, Logan stayed by your side, watching the Addams Family Show with you. Half way through, his hand absentmindedly stroked at your hair before he pulled you closer to him, allowing him to kiss the top of your head.

“You are the greatest man who ever lived, Logan Howlett.” You told him before looking up at him. “I really mean that.”

“I’m sure you do, sweetheart.”

Then you saw it.

Logan didn’t believe you. Sure, there was the smallest smile to his face, but you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t believe you.

And that struck you to your core.

“Logan, look at me.” Pressing your palm to his cheek, you turned his head. “I do mean it. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Logan took a moment. Then he smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

And he kissed your head.

Laying back down on his chest, you watch the rest of the episode whilst your insides started to feel like it was holding a hellhound in a cage that was scratching its way out of you.

“You okay?”

With your eyes squeezed tight, you nodded. “Just cramps. They’re usually not this bad. Or at least this often.”

Logan nodded, his hand rubbing up and down your back. “What usually helps?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I usually ride it out. They come in waves.”

“What about painkillers?”

The sharpness finally left but the dullness stayed. “I like to see how high my pain threshold is.”

Logan groaned a little and rolled his eyes. “And you say I have a death wish.”

Taking your hand, Logan walked you towards the door, turning the TV off and throwing the remote back onto the sofa from the door.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m running you a bath. I’ve heard they usually help.”

And he did.

Even why you tried to say he didn’t, and you could do it yourself.

“Sweetheart, you can barely walk.” Logan told you as he splashed the bubble bath through the water. “And I could smell you from down the hall. You need to wash your hair.”

That was how you found yourself sitting into a hot bath, covering yourself with bubbles as Logan came back inside.

Quietly, he pulled a stool beside the bath as you pushed yourself to sit further forward. “Can you dip your head back?”

Slowly, you did so and it wasn’t long before Logan was running shampoo through your hair, softly scrubbing at your scalp. God, you never wanted to leave.

Logan felt you relax against his touch, slowly leaning your head back when his palm brushed against your forehead.

With a cup, Logan let the water fall through your hair, washing the suds away from your scalp, down your back and into the water.

For both of you, everything felt…quiet. Calm.

Intimate.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence eventually. “This really helps.”

Logan pulled his gaze from your back and shoulders, forcing himself to look anywhere else but you. “Good. I’m…I’m glad.”

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant it. What I said before.” You repeated it as you looked back at him. “You are a good man.”

Logan swallowed, avoiding your gaze to look at his hands for a second. “We don’t have to-”

You held onto his hands and he finally looked at you. “I mean it, Logan. You are a good man.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Why?”

His gaze flicked to your lips and back up to your eyes. You couldn’t deny you hadn’t thought about it as well.

“Because a good man wouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking right now.”

You felt yourself lean closer to him. “What are you thinking?”

Logan shook his head despite the fact he felt himself move closer to you, too. “You don’t want to know.”

Your own gaze flicked to his lips and back again. “I trust you, Logan. I want you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Slowly you came to your knees and Logan’s eyes roamed over you, his breath shortening by the time he looked back to your eyes.

Pulling his hands from yours, one began to brush the wet streaks of hair from your face and neck as the other found your waist and started moving lower towards your hip.

Despite the hot bath, your skin flared in goosebumps at Logan’s touch, your own breath hitching in your chest.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want to kiss you,” Logan held before his palm spread wider on your hip. “I want to feel you.”

“Then do it.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice.

Pressing his lips to yours, it wasn’t long before his hands pulled you closer to him, your own hands pulling him in by his collar. You let his hands freely roam your body, before one slipped down and over your ass, hitching you up until your legs wrapped around his waist, a pile of water trailing after you both.

Turning around, Logan set you down on the counter top, moving back a little before letting his lips make their way down your jaw, neck and chest.

Cupping the back of his head, you whispered his name. And for a second he pulled away. His hand still by your waist, he leaned over and fumbled with the shower until it was finally spraying out.

And whilst you waited for it to heat up, Logan put himself back on you.

His hands were everywhere and it was driving you insane. And once he finally did something about it, you let out a little gasp.

“Is this okay?”

A smile came to your face as you dipped your head forward, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the side of your neck.

“More than okay.”

Curling his digits inside of you, you let out a breathy moan and jolted forward a little when his thumb began circling your clit, adding more pressure.

You gasped. “Logan.”

“S’okay, Sweetheart.” His lips captured yours again as his other hand held you steady by your hair. “Just ride it out.”

Thrusting in and out of you, he continued to curl up inside of you.

“M-more. Logan.” You moaned in pleasure, your pussy begging for him to circle your clit harder. “Please.”

Entering a third finger, Logan stretched you out as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“That’s it.” He spurred you on.

You fell back against the wall as his hand left your head and came to your hip, pulling you closer to him and the edge whilst his fingers curled deeper inside of you.

“That’s it.”

You gasped. “Keep-keep going. Don’t stop. Logan…”

Almost chanting his name as his mouth made its way down your collarbone, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking at the curve of your breast, you felt Logan apply more pressure around your clit, keeping a steady speed as he brushed in a circle.

You gasped. “Logan, I’m gonna-”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence as a moan of pleasure escaped from your throat before Logan’s own mouth caught it in his.

Your breath heavy and your chest heaving to catch it, Logan swiped across your clit a few more times until you had fully finished.

The steam was growing heavy around you both and once Logan had finally stripped down with your help, it wasn’t long before you found yourself pressed against the glass of the shower, Logan’s hand leaving a running print beside your head.

He had been washing your body, his hand grazing the loofa over your skin, all the while he pushed the hair from the side of your neck and slowly pressed firm kisses down the length of your neck.

Slowly, he turned you around before you found your back against the glass, his hand beside your head and his lips on yours once more.

Mere seconds later, you hooked your leg around his hip and slowly guided himself into you.

By the time morning finally broke through, you were fast asleep against Logan, miraculously still in the pyjamas you had put on after the best shower experience you had had in years.

Dressed in his boxers, his legs were tangled with yours, his chest pressed firmly against your back.

And by the time you woke up, you found two small braids at the side of your head and a note from Logan saying he��d be back later since Storm had dragged him into being the second chaperone for the field trip.

One busy day and a broken down bus later, Logan finally got home and found you half asleep on the sofa you had been on the night before.

“Hey,” you whispered, the light from the TV brightening you both for a moment before a laughing track played. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” Logan whispered back before moving the blanket up a little to allow him to slide in beside you.

“I missed you this morning.”

“I wouldn’t have left but Storm cornered me when I was making coffee.”

You smiled a little, wrapping your arms around him as he did you with you. “I figured.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Logan pressed his palm gently against your lower half, holding the small of your belly up a little bit which somehow relieved some of the pressure your uterus had been putting on you since mid-afternoon.

“Want to head to bed?”

“Soon,” you told him. “I want to find out what happens?”

Logan smiled a little. “Haven’t you watched these before?”

“A dozen times, but I still love them.”

Around ten minutes before the episode finished, Logan felt you grow a little heavy beside him and when he looked down, he found you were fast asleep. He waited for the episode to finish before turning the TV off and bringing his hands under your legs and his arm around your back as he lifted you up.

By the turn of the hour, you were cuddled back besides Logan, one of his hands at the bottom of your back, the other holding your knee in place over his middle.

The next couple of months continued the same way. Often, you’d fall asleep or at the very least be half way there before Logan would carry you to bed. It seemed to change every couple of nights who’s room you’d sleep in.

There were moments when Logan would wake up, roaring from the pain of memories. But he was finding them to be very few and far between ever since he started waking up next to you.

By Christmas, you couldn’t have been more in love with Logan if you tried. And realising this fact hadn’t been from some grand romantic gesture that would be shown to be in the next Hollywood blockbuster.

He had simply said that you needed to get some lights for the Christmas tree.

With his arm around your waist, you looked up at Logan to find a look of confusion on his face. You could practically hear the cogs turning over in his head.

“What? What is it?”

You looked back at the tree, expecting it to be housing a family of squirrels despite the fact it was artificial.

Too many kids in the school had an allergy to pine trees.

“We need some lights.”

Logan walked forward and straightened up the tree and you just stood…shocked. Your hands still clutching themselves in front of you, you felt your heart practically swell with excitement and…

Love.

“What?” Logan looked at you from behind the tree.

You broke out in a smile and shook your head. “Nothing. I’m just…excited. It’s officially Christmas.”

“We’re still in November.”

“Barely.” You protested. “And besides, who was the one who wanted to get the tree out of the attic?”

As your arms came around his neck, his arms came around your waist pulling you closer to him as he stepped out from behind the tree.

“Okay, fine. You’ve got me there. But it’s only because I know Rogue will spend the next week badgering me to get it down.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” you smiled before kissing him. “You might be a good man, Logan Howlett. But you are a terrible, terrible liar.”

A couple of weeks later, school had finally finished. The Winter exam season was finally over and grading the final paper, Logan threw it into the box before sealing the lid shut and carrying it to the other side of his room, shoving it into the bottom of his closet.

Riddled with tiredness, Logan slumped down onto the edge of his bed rubbing his face just as you walked in.

“Here you are.”

Logan looked up and graced you with a tired smile. “Close the door.”

You did so before walking over towards him where he placed his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you closer until you were standing in between his legs.

“Long day?” You asked him as he lay his head against your middle, letting your hands run through the back of his hair.

“The longest. You?”

You let out a sigh. “Longer still. I think I need to teach a couple of handwriting classes. It’s not the marking that takes forever, it’s the reading. Have you finished?”

Logan looked up at you. “Just finished the last one.”

“I’ve still got a couple more on my desk.”

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Logan told you. “Let’s just take a break. Where are the others?”

“Down by the hill.” You nodded your head towards his window. “Storm’s making it a snow day for everyone. They should be gone for a couple hours.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Logan’s hands pushed your shirt up a little allowing him to feel your skin.

“Because,” you smiled. “I wanted to see you.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan pressed a small kiss to your belly. “Any other reason why?”

You shook your head, acting oblivious. “Not that I can think of.”

Logan pressed some more kisses across your middle whilst his hands started to unbutton your jeans to allow him more access.

He heard you take in a breath and he smirked, feeling your hands rake through his hair, your nails scratching at his scalp before going down his neck.

“Well, maybe I can think of one.”

Logan smirked. “If you’re thinking, I’m not doing my job properly.”

Continuing to press his kiss against you, Logan slowly pulled your jeans down your hips, over your ass and down your legs, being sure to press his kiss along your thighs as he brought himself to his knees.

Trailing his hands up and down your legs as you stepped out of your jeans, Logan looked up at you.

“Beautiful.”

You felt yourself blush at his words before he pressed a kiss against the inside of your thigh.

“So beautiful.”

For a moment, you felt your knees go weak.

Stumbling back a little, you gripped onto the edge of his desk. Slowly, his hand caressed your calf, bringing your leg up. Again, his hot breath trailed up the inside of your thigh, pressing chaste kisses against your skin as he made his way towards where your panties were still on.

Taking his time with you, he pressed more kisses to your hip bone whilst his fingers toyed with the line of your underwear.

Pulling each side down at a time, he kissed the soft skin under them before finally removing them all together.

Finally, pressing kissed down the middle of your stomach as his hands played with your ass, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, lifting you a little until you were balancing on the edge of his desk.

“So wet already.”

His tongue was light at first, against your clit, coaxing it out of hiding until it was fully present for him. With his moans vibrating against your pussy, you gripped the back of his head.

Gasping, you felt his tongue slip inside of you, tasting every last bit of you.

Every now and again, his nose would bump against your clit leaving you wanting more, begging him to do more.

Then he finally listened.

Pushing a finger inside of you, he hooked it up before pulling back out, all too slowly for your liking.

Logan looked up for a moment, watching your head fall back as he sucked at you and your own hand went under your top and you began playing with yourself.

“M-more. Logan. Please.”

With a smirk, Logan added a second finger.

“Keep going,” you pleaded with him before letting out a gasping moan. “That’s- that’s- that’s it. Logan.”

If there was something Logan lived for, it was watching this. Watching your build up before your eventual release. The gasps and moans that escaped your throat, the slight scream you would give as he got you closer and closer to the edge.

Logan’s jeans restricted him almost to the point of pleasure. “Fuck,” he groaned.

Lapping you up, Logan was surrounded by your scent and taste. He thrusted faster hearing you go from slowly muttering his own word to almost screaming it.

With his tongue circling your clit, he felt your walls tighten against his fingers, his hair being gripped by your hand and he finally got the full taste of you.

Logan made you come twice more before the others got back; once more with his fingers, stretching you out as you lay against his bed, his mouth taking over the work of your hands, leaving them to roam free across him, and finally with you stuffed full of his cock, begging for more as he slowly built up to pounding into you, before flipping you both over, letting you ride him whilst one hand held you steady and the other drove you half to insanity as he played with your clit and his lips left his mark against every corner and curve of your skin.

And once more after everyone had gone to bed.

Feeling his chest against your back as you both walked into his room, one hand came up your shirt before the other went down your bed shorts, pulling your fresh panties to the side and circling and dipping into your some more.

Before you knew it, both of your clothes were strewn across the room and Logan was flipping you over, lifting your ass, allowing his hand to leave its print before snaking around you, letting you beg into his pillows as he flicked at your clit.

After Christmas, the months began bleeding into one and before you knew it, summer was just around the corner.

Outside on the fresh grass, Logan was coaching the final baseball game of the day whilst you were with a couple of the kids, picking out fresh flowers from both the garden and the grass.

However, just before Logan was about to yell time on the game, you felt his arms come around your waist.

He tied his jacket around your waist. “I’ll run you a bath later.”

Logan kissed the shell of your ear before running back across the field, calling time.

Twenty minutes later, Logan was back at your side, kneeling in the grass with the rest of the kids, and at some point in time, you turned around to find Logan being told to sit still whilst Freya stood in front of him, Rogue sitting beside him taking pictures.

When Freya moved out of the way, you saw what she had been doing.

Walking over with a small laugh, you crouched by Freya’s side.

“Well don’t you look cute.”

Logan tried his best to hide his smile but he couldn’t help it. You caught it anyway.

“Freya made it for him,” Rogue told you before holding up her camera. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of pictures.”

Freya nodded proudly. “I found some more daisies by the fountain so I could make one for Professor Logan.”

And sure enough, there it was. A daisy chain flower crown around Logan’s head.

“I made you one, too, Y/n.” Freya showed you as it hung delicately from her arm. “So now you can be matching.”

“Thank you, Freya.” You smiled widely. “Would you put it on for me?”

Freya gave a small smile and shook her head before holding her arm out to Logan. “I think Professor Logan should put it on.”

Logan looked at you and raised his eyebrows for a quick second before carefully removing the crown from around Freya’s arm. Quickly she stepped out of the way and sat in between Rogue’s legs.

“Take some pictures.” Freya whispered to Rogue.

With a soft smile, Logan got onto his knees as you fell to yours in front of him. He brushed a few stray hairs from your face before carefully placing the crown securely on your head.

Logan smiled at you, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Beautiful.”

Rogue gave a small cough with a hidden smirk. It wasn’t uncommon for either you or Logan to get lost in the other's eyes when you were together. There could be thirty people in the room, but the minute you looked at each other, the rest of the world faded away.

Snapping back into reality, Logan cleared his throat. “What do you think, kid?”

Freya rushed to Logan. “Hmm. It’s perfect!”

You smiled as Freya hugged you. “Thank you, Freya. It’s beautiful.”

“Hey, Freya? Want to take some more pictures?”

“Yes, please.”

Rogue handed the camera over to her and helped her put it around her neck. “Be careful with it?”

“I promise.”

Rogue held out her pinky and Freya linked her with Rogue’s.

“Come on, Ms Y/n. I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “I’m coming. Slow down, honey. Don’t fall.”

Rogue watched as Logan watched you and Freya run down the field towards the fountain to a small bed of flowers.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Rogue asked, already knowing the answer. She looked away before she could see the slight flash of fear on Logan’s face.

But it was true.

He did love you.

Truly loved you.

And yet…he hadn’t told you yet.

But you hadn’t told him.

It had been almost nine months and neither of you had told the other you loved them. Of course, there had been unspoken moments. The slow, lazy mornings when his fingers would trace up and down your back before dipping under the covers pulling you closer to him. The quick goodbye’s between lunch breaks when you’d both rush off to teach your classes. The danger moments where it had almost been said, but the hesitation had been covered up by both of you.

“It’s okay. Just tell me when you get back.” You’d tell each other.

Only, you never did.

You showed it.

But never said it.

And as Logan watched you with Freya, holding the butterfly on your finger as Freya worked the camera, snapping some pictures, Logan wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell you. And if that day ever came…would that be the day you leave him? Or worse, get hurt because of him?

You looked back at Logan for a moment as Freya took another picture. And he smiled back, giving you a small wave back.

“I hope I have what you and Y/n have one day.”

Logan looked at Rogue. “I thought you’re with Bobby?”

Rogue smiled and looked down. “I am. We are. But I think it’ll take a while before he looks at me like how you look at her.”

Logan shook his head with a smile before standing. “Don’t doubt it, kid. He loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it. The same way anyone with eyes can see you eyeing him up from all the way over here.”

Rogue blushed before Logan lowered his hand down to help her up. “Well, it’s not like you two are the most subtle couple in the world. But do you really think so? About me and Bobby?”

“Look, kid. I’m no saint when it comes to advice, or love for that matter, but you just have to take each day as it comes. At the end of the day, if he’s still the one you want to talk to, even when you’re fighting with each other, you’re on a better path than most.”

“Isn’t it better not to fight?”

Logan shrugged. “Fighting is just a part of life, kid. But if ever lays a hand on you, he won’t be standing for very long.”

Rogue gave Logan a small smile. “Bobby’s not like that. And if he ever was, no one else would have to worry about what would happen to him. That I can handle on my own. But thanks anyway.”

Logan nodded and patted her shoulder before looking around. “I’ll be back soon. Keep an eye on Y/n for me?”

“I think she can look after herself,” Rogue nodded. “But sure. Hey, where are you going?”

“Nowhere important. I’ll be back soon.”

Taking the steps two at a time, Logan made his way inside the school.

Hours after the sun had set, you still hadn’t seen Logan since he crowned you with daisies.

Then, taking a walk into his room, you looked out of his window and saw him sitting in the gardens.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

Logan looked back, a little startled that someone else was out with him. “Nothing. Just…sitting here.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Logan shuffled up a little and you sat beside him.

Logan was quiet. Usually he’d hold your hand or he’d put his arm around you. This time, he just looked out and away.

“Is everything okay? I didn’t see you after the flower crowning ceremony.”

You looked up and found the flower crown peeking out from his hair. He still hadn’t taken it off. Or he’d forgotten it was there.

Yours had been twisted into your hair by Rogue and Freya when it came loose during dinner.

“I don’t know what we’re meant to be doing.”

You shrugged. “Right now, nothing. I thought we were just sitting here.”

“I’m not a good man, Y/n.”

You drew back a little. “Where is this coming from?”

Logan took a breath. “Rogue made me realise something today and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I’m not a good man, Y/n. People I care about, people I lov-”

Logan looked at you and the words faltered in his mouth.

“They get hurt.” He finalised. “People get hurt because of me.”

“Logan-”

“Or by me. I’m not a good man.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re a good man, Logan,” you finalised.

“Please. Don’t say things that aren’t true.”

You were baffled. “Why wouldn’t it be true?”

“Because everyone I have ever cared for has gotten hurt or died. And I can’t put you through that. I can’t see you getting hurt because of me.”

You shook your head. “Logan, I’m not going to get hurt because of you.”

“Really? Because if you haven’t noticed, our lives aren’t exactly the most normal in the world.”

“Maybe not, but I’m enjoying my life so far.” You raised your voice a little as Logan stood up, beginning to pace.

“I’m not good enough for you, Y/n. You deserve the good guy.”

“You are a good guy.” You stood, walking towards him.

With his hands on his hips, Logan stopped pacing and you stopped walking, falling six feet short of him. “No, I’m not. People…people don’t take someone like me home. They don’t marry someone like me. They don’t end up with someone like me. You don’t want me.”

You took a step forward. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not the good guy. The one you can take home.”

You took a breath. “Logan, I am home. And you are the good guy. You always have been. Whoever convinced you you’re not the good guy can fuck off. And nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

Logan almost pleaded. “Why?”

Logan knew he didn’t have the best record when it came to those he loved, surviving past so many years of friendship with him. Leaning on over a hundred years, Logan had known loss in more ways than one. Why couldn’t you see that you could lose, too? That because of him, because fate seemed to have damned him to a life of forever losing those he loved, you would lose, too? Why couldn’t you see that by being with him, you were putting your own life on the line?

“Because I love you, Logan!”

Logan felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse. “Nothing you or anyone else can say or do will ever convince me that you’re not the good guy. Because you are. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Hell, I’m seeing it right now.”

You gestured to his head.

The Daisy Chain Flower Crown.

He’d almost forgotten it was still on his head.

“Logan, you have spent your entire life looking out for people.”

“They still get hurt.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “But that wasn’t your fault. Sometimes there is nothing any of us can do that will stop someone from getting hurt because sometimes that’s just how it’s meant to be. Sometimes we can learn from it, most of the time it’s just a shit part of life. Logan, you are a good guy. Better yet, you’re a good person. You always help when you can. You take care and look out for those you care about.”

You continued. “Whoever told you you’re not the good guy, they were wrong. Plain and simple. If you’re not the good guy, then who sits on a classroom floor at five in the morning cutting out decorations for somebody else's classroom? Who brings me coffee every morning, just how I like it? Who helps a little girl not be afraid of brushing her hair anymore? Who then asks to learn how to style hair so he can do it for her? Who helps set up a Christmas dance, and steps in to help the kids learn how to dance properly?”

That was something you remembered most often. Rogue and Bobby had been struggling to learn how to dance together, forever stepping on each other's toes. Until Logan had been through watching enough second-hand pain and stepped up.

He had taken your hand in his, setting your book face down on the side table beneath the lamp and talked Rogue and Bobby through it.

“Logan,” you whispered to him. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered into your ear.

You later found out, over a hot cup of tea, that he had learnt to properly dance when he was younger (at least, that’s what he figured from his muscle memory) but most of it came from when he had a short stint as a security guard at a retirement centre where some of the older women would ask him to dance with them before pushing him off to dance with their visiting granddaughters.

Logan had led you effortlessly, leaving both Rogue and Bobby in shock. Parting from you, Logan helped Rogue learn first, it being clear she wasn’t a natural follower. And then he taught Bobby, making him copy his steps as he moved with an imaginary partner.

“Who spends entire evenings sitting watching reruns of black and white TV shows with me, even if we’ve seen them a thousand times? Who spends more time holding doors open, grabbing things from the higher shelves, braiding kids' hair when they ask, helping Rogue learn how to bake properly without burning the kitchen down? You do. You do, Logan. Because that is who you are. You are the guy that, even hours later, still wears the flower crown in his hair because someone made it for him.”

You held your hands by his neck, making him look at you.

“And that is why I love you.”

His gaze finally zoned in on yours.

“Because for all your gruffness, grunting and brooding, you are kind. And thoughtful. And considerate. And I don’t think you realise how good you truly are, Logan. I don’t care if you think I’m going to get hurt. What hurts me is you thinking you’re not good enough for me, because you are Logan. You are the guy I could only ever dream of finding, when I was a kid. And even then, I didn’t find you. You found me. Sitting on that hardwood floor in my classroom where you brought me my coffee and gave me your jacket to keep me warm. I love you, Logan Howlett. Nothing can ever change that for me.”

Finally kissing him, you felt every emotion pour not only from yourself but also from Logan. Your kisses bled from his lips, across his cheeks and finally to the side of his neck as his arms wrapped around you, holding you flush against him.

He didn’t want to let go.

With one hand in your hair and the other wrapped around your back, Logan pressed you even closer, taking in your scent with his.

“I love you so much.”

Logan’s words vibrated through your entire system and for a moment, your heart relaxed. Pulling back a little so you could see his face, your thumbs brushed across his cheeks as his forehead pressed against yours.

“You are my home, Logan. I love you. I always will.”

“I love you, too.”

“Never let me go.”

“Never.”

Logan barely had time to get his words out before his mouth found yours for a second outpouring of emotion.

Eventually, you both finally made it back upstairs where Logan helped you into a hot bath whilst the sound of old reruns came from your bedroom TV.

After that night, never a day went by where you didn’t tell each other you loved each other. Nor was there a day where Logan didn’t prove you wrong. He was the good guy. He was your home.

And you loved him for it.

And he loved you back, just as strongly.

976 notes · View notes

mommywandas · 1 month ago

Text

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a very dark and heavy fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! 18+ only. Men dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfic #elizabeth olsen #lgbtq #lesbian #wanda x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark fic #marvel smut #sapphic smut #wandavision #smut #dark fanfiction #mommy!wanda

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highvern · 5 days ago

Text

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it. There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work.

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength.

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot.

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble.

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles.

In his truck, the radio hums one of his fifty million cassettes. He only breaks the comfy lull at a deserted intersection. “One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy.

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu turns right, humming along to the next song the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door.

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. He thrusts two paper cups and a greasy paper bag across the counter and greets the next customer in line.

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool.

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him.

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out.

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together.

You want to kiss him.

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car.

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips.

“Where are you going?” you call.

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach.

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going.

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers.

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating.

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of?

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours.

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often.

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite.

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded.

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen.

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?”

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches.

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts.

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines.

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook.

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point.

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen.

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.”

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now.

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one.

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time.

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck.

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there.

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy.

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck.

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks.

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne.

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot.

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest.

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze.

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world.

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile.

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute.

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week.

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter.

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him.

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending.

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration.

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone.

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock.

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years.

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more.

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims.

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff.

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?”

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic.

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ‘congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass.

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest.

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision.

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him.

“You’re so good�� fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet.

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

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misserabella · 7 months ago

Text

two geniuses (don’t get along)

enemies to lovers;; spencer reid x fem reader!

masterlist!

note; in this fic lila’s episode happens after elle’s departure to make the story have more sense. (S1 E18). also there have been some changes :))

synopsis; spencer reid; doctor spencer reid. some of them (mostly of them), would say he’s a genius. but if he was, then so you were. maybe that’s why you hate each other. maybe that’s why you can’t stand him.

cw;; +18 content! minors dni!, reader and spencer’s competitive asses, talk of murder, graphic scenes, weapons, guns, blood, shots being fired, lila flirting, spencer kissing lila, lots of fighting, lots of tension, teasing, apologies, reader getting hurt (mentions of stitches), threats, murder of secondary characters, talk about kinks and trauma (spencer being a smartaas), mention of spencer’s childhood and her mom… ( i bet there’s so much more but i can’t remember rn) angst, fluff and smut in upcoming chapters!!!

“another coffee, pretty boy? you wanna die?” morgan inquired the puppy eyed profiler, whose right hand held a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“actually, the caffeine in coffee has been found in animal and cell studies to protect cells in the brain that produce dopamine. in a large prospective cohort of more than 500,000 people followed for 10 years, an association was found between drinking higher amounts of coffee and lower rates of death from all causes.” he easily spat in less than a mere minute, making morgan scoff.

“it’s not considered coffee if a 99% of it is sugar, reid.” you barged into their conversation, taking a look at the files of new cases.

“sugar is one type of carbohydrate, as are fiber and starch. carbohydrates are essential macronutrients.” he defended himself, taking a sip of his coffee-sugar.

“wrong. although carbohydrates are essential macronutrients since the body uses them in large amounts, something wrong about your thesis is that sugar is not one of those macronutrients. the body doesn’t use it. in fact, the effects of added sugar intake which are higher blood pressure, inflammation, weight gain, diabetes, and fatty liver disease, are all linked to an increased risk for heart attack and stroke. so yeah. technically, morgan was right. you might die.” you nodded towards the man, who smiled at you, walking towards you and taking your face in between his hands.

“have i told you how much i love that brain of yours?” he inquired, leaving a kiss to your forehead. “brilliant.” he smiled, raising his hands in victory since for once he had won spencer and his extensive knowledge. the profiler simply rolled his eyes.

“thanks.” spencer spat at you, to what you smiled.

“you’re very welcome, agent.”

“it’s doctor.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

spencer reid. with an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, he was considered a real walking genius. maybe that’s why the two of you seemed to despise each other so much. people say geniuses actually like each other. well, you and spencer were the exception. it was easy to get on his nerves. he was not used to having someone smart enough to actually suppose a threat to his intelligence. yet there you were. you had been jumping your way up to college since you were twelve, and at the ripe age of 22, and numerous phds later, you had found yourself working at the BAU.

you had been hired after elle had left the team, and everyone had seemed happy greeting you. you had specially made quick friends of penelope and morgan. something reid didn’t seem to like. well… he didn’t exceptionally like you. something that seemed stupid ‘cause you two were the perfect pair. there was nothing the two of you didn’t know, nothing you wouldn’t catch or realize. maybe that’s why spencer despised you. ‘cause now they had you too, not only him.

it was actually a pity. you liked smart people. you liked to share opinions and learn new things you might not know with the help of others. but spencer was borderline narcissistic, and that made your body cringe in disgust. and worst of all, he was really attractive. curly caramel hair, hazel puppy eyes, full lips, small straight nose, tall stature, pretty hands… also his voice…

well, anyways. you were losing focus.

so you’d decided to match his energy. and that only seemed to make the situation worse. sure, you two worked together, but only because you had to, if you could you’d much prefer to do everything alone rather than have to share office with reid.

hotch caught your attention as he pushed a file on your table.

“and what’s this…?” you sung as you took it, inspecting it.

“training program in los angeles.” you looked at him. he was leaning against your table. “want you to go with gideon and reid.” you let out a single chuckle, tossing the paper on your table.

“no.” you simply said, watching the man sigh. “tell jj to go! or prentiss!” you offered.

“can’t. jj is helping penelope to trace an unsub and prentiss is new, need someone who has been on the ropes longer.”

“then what about morgan? he’s not doing anything.” you pointed at the man who played with a mini football.

hotch looked at you. “please? you are the only one who gets reid. you know how he can be…”

“a narcissistic, egocentric, babbling, childlike, fourteen looking mess? yeah, i know.” you smiled. “but what do i win in this situation? i mean i must gain something if i’m gonna spend more time than necessary with him.”

“a free weekend.”

“done.” you gave him your hand. “a pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

“spencer! spencer reid!” you hear someone call for your work-mate, a tall smiling man approaching him and shaking his hand just as the three of you entered an art exhibition. “look at you. you look just the same.” he chuckled as he gives him a quick hug. “nothing changed… spencer was the only 12-year-old in our graduating class. just the same.”

“thanks.” spencer awkwardly says, giving the man a tight smile. “these are special agents jason gideon and (y/n) (l/n). this is parker dunley. we went to high school together as you can probably gather.” he introduces all of you.

“hey. it’s a beautiful gallery.” jason gives him his hand in a shake.

“oh, thank you, thank you. parker smiles, later on turning towards you.

“contemporary art… right?” you inquire offering him your hand, to what he nods. “contemporary modern art includes a wide range of mediums and genres. it is often characterized by its use of new media, such as video and installation art, as well as its rejection of traditional art forms. contemporary modern artists often experiment with form and content, and their work can be highly conceptual.” you say, making the man chuckle.

“i see you brought your computers.” parker jokes with gideon about spencer and you. “another genius like spencer?”

“oh no, men are just smart. woman are the geniuses.” you smile, making him chuckle.

“and funny, huh? i see, i see.”

spencer coughs to grab the man’s attention. “jason’s a big contemporary art enthusiast.”

“well, we’re exhibiting four up-and-coming artists in this show. everything is for sale. and i could definitely swing a nice discount for a friend of…” he loses focus as a blonde beautiful woman enters the exhibition. “lila! hey. guys, come on.” he invites you three towards his friend, coming up to her to say hello.

“do i look 12-years-old to you?” spencer inquired gideon, to what you scoffed, thanking the waiter that offered and served you a glass of champagne.

“oh, totally.” you said as you took it, taking a sip as you heard spencer crack a fake laugh.

“real funny.”

you three made your way towards parker and… lila. she was a beautiful blue eyes-blonde young girl. the basic american beauty standard.

“spencer. you ever met a real movie star?” the man asks, to what the girl beside the blonde scoffs.

“movie star? please. she has a supporting role on a television series about beach volleyball. totally blue-collar.” your eyebrows slightly rise.

“what a friend…” you whisper to your glass, taking another sip of the champagne.

“i’m lila.” the girl gives a sweet smile to spencer, and you almost roll your eyes.

it’s only a matter of time.

“hi, im doctor spencer reid… i’m spencer. you don’t have to call me doctor.” he corrects himself.

lila chuckles. in 3… 2… 1… and tucks her hair behind her ear. there we go.

“cool.” you say, turning around without even introducing yourself, it’s not as if she’d pay attention to you. she’s too focused on spencer to care as you make your way through the gallery, taking the artwork in, trying to scape the probable flirting that was about to go down.

later on you found the two of them chatting in front of a picture in which the blue and green dominate.

“does it make you feel anything?” the blonde asked him, and you silently expect an answer from spencer.

“like what?” he asks. god he sucks.

“i can’t tell you how to feel.” lila chuckles at his frown.

“right now i feel pretty good.” he smiled and you roll your eyes.

“lila? can i talk to you for a moment?” parker interrupts their chatting and the girl nods, quickly glancing at spencer.

“excuse me.”

“sure!” he gently says, and you make your way towards him.

“feeling pretty good, huh?” you inquire him, teasingly, and he groans. “you totally suck.” you take a sip of your glass and he looks at you. “poor girl seems desperate.”

“desperate for what?” he inquires, frowning.

“oh come on, reid. and you call yourself a profiler? it’s obvious she likes you. she was trying to flirt with you.” you obviously state. “she was trying so hard and you were not catching on…” you laugh, and he sighs.

“you know ogling on other’s business is rude, right?” he questions you.

“we’re the fbi. we’re on everybody’s business. that’s our job, reid.” you ignore him, taking a look at the photograph lila and him were staring at. “calming, isn’t it?” you say and he looks at the photograph as well, taking it in.

“sometimes, the color blue is associated with loneliness and sadness. it usually happens when you combine it with specific elements, like rain.” he spits and you chuckle.

“i know that, genius. the thing is not how it’s supposed to make you feel, it’s how it really makes you feel.” he looks at you as you sip from your cup. “with lila, you might feel good, ‘cause you enjoy her company, with me on the other side, you might not even want to be here, staring at a photograph that you’ve probably seen before. that’s because you focus on everything too much. you need to see what the picture actually tells you, not focus on the person you’re staring at it with.”

spencer’s hazel eyes go back to the picture, trying to focus on it, not on your presence, or the amount of voices that surrounded him.

the exhibited photograph shows an empty gas station, lights of green engulfing it as the nightlight blue sky surrounds it. it takes spencer back to his childhood. to those days in which even if he loved his mother, he couldn’t spend another minute by her side and left his house late in the afternoon for a walk. it helped him get out of his head. he remembers watching the sun go down as the night took over the sky, studying and calling out the constellations above his head, trying to find a solution to his mother’s illness. the stars never worked, and he was always left…

“it makes me feel alone.”

“you know, we really can get ourselves to the airport.” gideon said, reid and you trailing behind him as the police officer guided you to his car.

“i didn’t invite the fbi here to let them make their own way around town.” he says, never minding gideon.

“we really appreciate it.” reid says and you whistle.

“so you have manners, huh?” to what he groans.

“oh, shut up.”

“hey, i can’t thank you guys enough for conducting the seminar.” kim smiles.

“well, don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything we can help with.” gideon offered, putting his bags on the trunk of the car.

you stretched your arms after having pushed in your own. “can’t wait for that free weekend.” you muster happily, to what spencer frowns.

“free weekend? what are you talking about?”

“a special thanks from hotch for coming all the way here and putting up with you.” his mouth falls open at your words.

“i didn’t get any free time and i had to put up with you!”

“that let’s you know who’s the problem in this equation.” you falsely smiled at him, patting her shoulder, and you relished on the way his jaw tightened.

your conversation ends as the three of you watch officer kim end a phone call with a not very enthusiastic ‘great’.

“everything alright?” jason asks.

“double murder at hollywood bungalow.” he informs. “a celebrity. a young movie star, natalie ryan, and her fiancé shot to death.”

“very romantic.” you mutter.

“it’s gonna be a major pain in the ass. hey, you guys care to take a quick look before i drive you to the airport? it’s on the way.” he asks, and gideon accepts the offer.

“absolutely.”

you sigh as you get on the back of the car along with spencer.

“seems like that weekend is gonna have to wait.” he happily and teasingly smiles and you send daggers in his direction.

“i’ll choke you with my bare hands.”

“did you get that kink by exposure or trauma?” your mouth falls and your eyes widen.

“what?” you almost yell, watching him ponder.

“maybe it’s because you like to have power and control. have you talked about this with a therapist?”

“you’re gonna have to see a therapist after the torture i’m gonna put you through if you don’t stop that fucking nonsense.” you warn him, and he raises his hands.

“i’m just saying, there’s nothing bad about seeking mental help-”

“spencer!”

“no sign of forced entry.” reid points out as the four of you enter the murder scene.

“same weapon.” gideon informs watching at the two bodies.

you stare at the female, getting closer. “the girl was shot execution style, once in the head. the male three times in the torso.”

“so you have two different MOs.” jason wonders before going back to officer kim, talking about the case. you crouch down to take a better look at the man’s corpse.

“what? you found anything?” spencer inquired from behind you, to what you shook your head.

“nah. just fantasizing.” he frowns.

“fantasizing. what the- what would you possibly be fantasizing about in a murder scene?”

“oh you know… you… in that position… you know? it’s really sexy, you should try it. here don’t move let me get my gun.” you offer while getting up, and he just rolls his eyes, leaving you behind.

“what do you think?” gideon asks the officer about the case, wanting his insight.

“i’ve had a couple other cases recently, past few months. same type of weapon, 22 caliber handgun, both shot in the head.” you look at the bodies. “the first was an established film producer, wally melman, and the second was chloe harris, another young actress. though not as well-known as natalie here.”

“any forensic evidence?” reid asks as you step away from them, taking in your surroundings.

“no, and the guys have been going through this place all morning and haven’t come up with anything.”

“so he clearly knows how to cover his tracks.”

“or hers.” you mutter to yourself.

“twenty-two’s are small but efficient. they bounce around inside a person like a pinball.” jason said.

“preferred weapon of the mafia.” spencer added. “you know, there’s no obvious sexual component to these crimes, which is usually the case with serial murders.”

“so you’re thinking this is a serial killer?” kim asks.

“well, it’s certainly a series of murders. we don’t know enough yet to call them serial.” you step into the conversation.

“would you consider hanging out in LA a little while? let me lean on your expertise until we do figure out what we’ve got?” the officer inquires and gideon nods.

“yeah, just cancel the flights. we’ll have the rest of pit team out here ASAP.”

the unsub seemed to follow his victims, since he knew their schedules. there was not a single witness, he knows how to blend in and hide in plain sight. he’s meticulous.

and everybody is watching.

just like everybody was watching spencer and lila.

after finding out that the unsub was actually stalking the blonde, and killing people to help her with her career, she had somehow scurried her way under spencer’s protection. it actually bothered you. ‘cause spencer seemed so distracted. and it was totally unprofessional to get involved with a target being their agent.

you were on her studio, studying everyone surrounding her. but it was one person that caught your attention.

“who’s that?” you question prentiss.

“that’s maggie, maggie lowe. for what i know she just works here.” she answers you. “why?”

“they seem pretty close, don’t you think?” you ponder, watching her physical language. “she also seems nervous, she avoids lila’s eyes.”

“maybe she’s just shy.” she shrugs, but knows what you’re pointing out.

“maybe…” then, jj appears.

“what are you guys talking about?”

“lila and possible unsubs.” emily fills her in, accepting the coffee she offers her, you take the one she handles you too with a thanks.

“talking about lila… look who’s approaching her.” she devilishly smiles. you almost groan at the sight of spencer talking to the blonde. “they seem to have hit it off.”

“ugh don’t start. he’s so focused on her when in reality he should be focused on his job…” you sip at your coffee, not realizing the shared look the other two girls send each other. “so unprofessional.” you shake your head.

“are you really mad because he’s distracted from his job or by the fact that a pretty girl is distracting him?” jj asked you, taking in your frown and confused expression.

“what?”

“oh come on, really? do you really not feel it?” emily pushes in too, and you look at them.

“feel what? i-i don’t understand.”

“there’s this weird tension in between the two of you.” the brunette explains, being backed up by the blonde.

“it’s like when two little kids like each other and they don’t know how to show it so they just mess with each other.” you scoff.

“you’re saying that spencer and i are attracted to each other?” you inquired them both and they looked at the other. “come on guys, have you seen him? have you actually worked with him? he’s a fucking narcissist, he makes my life impossible just because i’m as smart as him. i don’t like him. at all. i can’t even stand him!” you rant. “he does this thing when he’s focused, playing with his hands and pencils, it’s so distracting. and when i state a fact, he just has to find something to actually make it wrong. every single time. and let’s not talk about how fucking childish he is, if you guys had been here for the training program, i swear to god he said this stupid things about kinks and me having trauma, oh my god i wanted to fucking kill him. he diminishes me, and thinks he’s better than me. and it just makes me sick…” you take a deep breath when you notice how much you had actually talked and your friends’ looks. “what i mean to say is, no. i don’t like spencer reid. and if he wants to fuck his job up, i’d be more than happy.”

morgan suddenly appeared, hotch right behind him.

“guys. there’s something you have to know…” the first talked.

“michael ryer’s dead.” the second finished.

“oh shit.” emily cursed.

“does lila know?” jj asked.

they shook their head.

“she’s gonna be devastated.” jj said to what you sipped at your coffee.

“well at least she has spencer, right?”

“oh, yeah. can we talk about that real quick?!” morgan inquired, astonished.

“no, morgan!” the girls stop him and he raised his hands.

“okay… but the kid has game.”

“woah. i like your house.” spencer said as you two entered lila’s house.

how had you managed to end up with the two of them alone, you didn’t know, and you didn’t like.

“i rent it.” the girl smiled.

“nice.” he nodded.

“lila, you should probably change all your phone numbers.” you said, messaging your team, they’d found something concerning nude photos of the young artist.

“i’m unlisted.”

“anytime you call an 800 or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. if someone gets your phone number they can go online and research all your records.” you actually responded.

“woah, are you a genius like spencer too?” spencer.

“no. i’m actually smarter.” you gave her a small smile, making her chuckle.

“uh… you should probably carry a piece of paper and pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious license plates that often reappear.” spencer tries to change the conversation as you two followed the blonde towards her kitchen. “and a security dog too.”

“allergic.” she simply answered. “do you guys want some tea?”

you shrugged. “yeah, sure. thanks.” spencer nodded as well. it was already getting late, the sun leaving the city’s sky.

“i’m gonna go change while the water boils, make yourselves comfortable.” she said while making her way upstairs.

you went back towards the salon, your eyes wandering towards a collage on lila’s wall. spencer got your left side, his white stripped button up shirt’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“feel anything yet?” you asked him.

“there is something definitely appealing about this one.” he said and you nodded.

“like lila?”

he looked at you, his mouth falling open to say something, but just as the words were to fall from his lips, the blonde returned in a a more comfortable outfit, making her way towards the patio of her house, beside the pool.

“what are you doing?” spencer inquired her.

“i just need some air. the tea is on the kitchen.” she responded.

“what? no, lila…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you watched him go after her.

you could hear them talk and spencer beg her to come inside since there was a psychotic killer aiming at her. you made your way back to the kitchen just as fast as you saw the blonde lean into him, one of her hands tugging at his tie to pull him down. great.

your hands took the cup of steaming tea that lila had prepared you, your eyes on spencer’s as you took a sip. but the warm liquid was poured all over the floor of the kitchen, your head spinning at the blunt trauma that stroke you. your hands went to the side of your forehead as you fell, taking in the sight of your blood. you groaned as someone took you from your hair, pulling you and dragging you across the floor, your hands getting cuts from the smashed cup of tea.

“come here.” the unsub said, taking away your gun, and… you knew that voice. your eyes met the blonde’s.

“maggie lowe?” you muttered to yourself. so you were right. she was the killer and stalker.

you got dragged all the way to the salon, where you could see lila and spencer kissing from the distance. but the kiss quickly broke when maggie fired a shot up into the ceiling, capturing their attentions. spencer quickly pulled out his weapon, pointing at maggie, whose gun’s barbell was right against your head.

“maggie?” lila inquired as they slowly made their way towards you two.

“why’d you have to bring these people here?” she asked lila. “put down the gun.” she ordered spencer, clocking the weapon that kissed your skin. he quickly lowered it, calling out for the killer. “don’t call me maggie! you don’t know me!” “come on lila, let’s go. we gotta go baby, let’s go.” she ordered the actress in a soft yet hurt voice.

“maggie don’t hurt her, you don’t need to hurt her.” you didn’t know if he was talking about lila or you. or maybe both.

“you don’t know anything. i would never do anything to hurt lila. i created her.”

“no, you didn’t.” lila said.

“yes, i did!” you closed your eyes when the barbell dug harsher against your temple. “i did everything for you! and you betray me by bringing these people here… to our house!!!”

“so ungrateful…” you say, loud enough for maggie to hear you. “look at you… you gave her everything and you saw what she did to you… she kissed him. she told him she loved him.” you lied, looking at spencer. he caught on.

“what?” maggie incredulously said.

“i heard them. i saw them kissing each other like animals!” you yelled. “he abandoned me… and now i’m here. about to be killed because of him!” you spat, meeting maggie’s eyes. “you don’t have to hurt me. they don’t deserve us. i’m on your side maggie… i know how you feel. i know how it feels to be betrayed like this…” you nodded, seeing her eyes change. “give me my gun… i’ll kill him for you. and then you can have lila back. i’ll let the two of you go.” you promised, slowly rising up to your feet, extending your hand.

and just as she pointed her gun down, you tackled her, taking the weapons from her and throwing them aside as she fought against your hold.

“reid!” you called out for your work mate, who quickly came to you and handcuffed maggie, who just started crying and begging for you to kill her.

“i gave her everything…”

you looked at spencer, wiping off the blood from your eyes.

“and that’s why we need to stay professional.”

“are you okay, pretty girl?” morgan came to you as the paramedics wiped clean your wound.

“yeah, they say i have a light concussion. a couple of stitches and i’ll be alright.” you gave him a small smile.

“what happened in there, huh? we only got what the paparazzi had on camera, which is…” you nodded.

“yeah. well, maggie got into the house with lila’s spare keys, and basically almost killed me. it was good luck that spencer kissed lila, or else i don’t know what i would’ve done.” the rest of the team had gathered around you.

“you did good. spencer told me how you got into her head.” gideon said.

“thanks.” you responded.

“make sure you’re on the clear before getting up. we’ll be right back, gotta fill in the other officers.” hotch informed you, to what you nodded.

they all left except spencer, who silently looked at you.

“i’m sorry.” spencer said, looking at his feet. “this shouldn’t have happened, if i hadn’t…”

“… played barbie?” you finished off for him, catching his attention. “look spencer. i don’t really care about it. it’s your life and you make your own decisions, just… make sure to not put any of us in danger while doing it. even lila. one of us three could have died tonight.” he nodded. you reached on your back pockets, pulling out the films of the paparazzi’s camera. “i guess this is yours.” he called out for you once again, probably to apologize one more time, but you were still pretty shaken up and you were still pretty mad at him. “would you mind? my head is killing me.” you asked of him and he nodded, silently turning around and walking its way towards morgan and emily. your mind went back to her words the moment the needle punctured your skin. oh ‘come on, really? do you really not feel it?’ ‘there’s this weird tension in between the two of you.’. and then back to jj’s. ‘it’s like when two little kids like each other and they don’t know how to show it so they just mess with each other’. you couldn’t help but chuckle.

you liking spencer? no way.

if there was anything you felt for spencer reid that was hate.

a/n; im so excited for this series!!!! so much angst and fluff and smut yet to come!🤭

1K notes · View notes

lustspren · 5 days ago

Text

Enchanted

Male reader x Loossemble's Gowon (playing Ashley).

tags: harvard student gowon, public sex, bathroom sex, blowjob, facial, pussy eating.

word count: 8.2k

━•✦•━•✦•━

Settling in a new state was a pain, especially if you were a college student who had just entered Harvard, no less. But that bar on the outskirts of campus had become your little refuge every weekend after doing your homework.

Not knowing anyone and not having any friends yet had led you to inevitably look for some entertainment on your own. That's how you found that gem: a wide three-story building—one of them underground—made of red brick and adorned with narrow colonial-style windows with pale wooden frames.

From the first moment you walked in there you were enthralled by the faint aroma of old wood and the freshly made coffee. There were spaces for all kinds of activities, mainly bars of course. But there were also tables to eat at, pool tables, dart boards, and even reading spaces with bookshelves where students like you could go to simply relax while doing their stuff.

Despite all these mini-ecosystems designed so that everyone could choose their preferred environment, all the activity was concentrated in the main bar on the second floor, where you spent most of your time and where you were at that very moment, on a cold Saturday at 8 pm.

The night was particularly quiet, lacking the usual crowds that there were at that time. It was probably due to the weather; you understood that many preferred to be in their rooms, warm under their blankets and enjoying their free time in a calm way. But you weren't doing too bad there, sitting on one of the stools in front of the semi-circular bar while drinking a beer and watching a Celtics game, well wrapped up in your windbreaker and winter hat.

There were few people around you, some watching the game as well and others just chatting among themselves at tables in the corners. The floor below, however, was and sounded busier since a birthday was being celebrated, and the drinks were slowly making the chatter blossom. You wouldn't have liked to be there at that moment; mass social events made you anxious, even more so when you had no one to talk to.

In any case, both places were better than being out there in the snow. Your gaze occasionally strayed to the window to look at it. The flakes floated slowly in the air, falling unhurriedly on the roofs and branches of the trees. It was late November, and the snowfall had only just begun, so there was still a while until Massachusetts looked like the North Pole itself. For now, however, it was nice.

But it wasn't all Christmas fantasy and candy and happiness. Unfortunately, final exam season was approaching since the end of the semester was in mid-December, and that meant doubling the effort and stress in equal measure. You were taking it easy, since you had practically every subject under control except for Molecular Genetics, but of course you wouldn't get too confident. In fact, you were enjoying that moment of relaxation since you would have to spend the whole next day studying without a break.

You had to admit that everything would have been easier if you belonged to one of the common study groups that were formed for these situations, but being a new student, you sadly had to settle for what little you had. That is, yourself. At least for now. Because you wished with all your heart that the situation would change soon.

Who was going to say that it would. Maybe not in the way you expected.

"Nah but I swear to god bruh, JT is kinda dumb sometimes," said the bartender, Jordan, while cleaning a glass. He was one of the ones watching the game with you.

"I mean, at least he tries," you said. "But in this game he needs to stop taking the shots."

"Oh god bro, they put me in the game and I'm making more threes than him."

While you, Jordan and two other guys were commenting on the game, another person sat down in the empty chair to your right. You didn't pay attention, as just like you, the person also started watching the game until the end of that quarter.

"Damn sorry Ash, I didn't see you, hi," Jordan said to the person who had sat next to you. "What are you doing here today?"

You turned to see this Ash person, not knowing that you were going to be completely dazzled by what your eyes were going to see. She was an Asian girl, with beautiful dark brown hair, pretty full cheeks and small bright eyes. You searched through your memories to see if you had seen her before, but it was unlikely that you had seen a girl that pretty and not remember her face. But she was really fucking adorable, wearing a blue jacket that looked like it was going to eat her up because of how petite she was.

"Hi Jordan," the girl replied, her lips slightly curved into a smile. "I was at the birthday party down there but well, I got overstimulated and my social battery got drained."

You didn't want to seem like a weirdo, so before she noticed, you looked away from her and acted nonchalant as you watched the commercials.

"Oh I can understand why," Jordan said, leaning his fists on the bar. "Those motherfuckers are loud as fuck. Same as always?"

"Nah, pour me something mild this time, I have to study tomorrow and I don't want a headache," Ash replied.

Jordan let out a laugh and stepped away from the bar.

"Him too," he pointed his index finger at you before turning his back to you. "And he's on his fourth beer."

You were flabbergasted. He definitely hadn't done that shit. You were forced to look at the girl and him with an embarrassed chuckle, shrugging.

“Oh, you’re a Harvard student too?” Ash asked, turning to look at you. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I am,” you nodded. “And I haven’t seen you either. What faculty are you in?"

"Data Science, and you?"

"Biomedicine," you replied.

"Cool!" She raised her eyebrows, and turned her body towards you to give you her full attention. "So how's that going?"

You sighed and took a sip of your beer, which was almost empty.

"I'm a new student," you set the glass down on the bar. "So I'll know after this semester."

"Oh, new student huh?" she raised an eyebrow. "I guess that's been the hardest thing so far."

Jordan then came back to you and gave her a glass as well, from the color and bubbles you guessed it was vodka and lemon soda. You hoped it was more one thing than the other, because if not, there was absolutely nothing mild about that drink.

"Don't even remind me," you said with a sigh, as she drank from her glass. "It's been a shitty three months."

"Why?" she cocked her head. "I mean, I really don't mean to be nosy, but Harvard always does a good job of integrating new students with the others."

"Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that people will like you," you then locked eyes with Jordan, who you motioned for another beer.

"But you don't seem like a bad guy, why wouldn't people like you?"

You shrugged, taking the freshly opened bottle of beer that Jordan had given you.

"I don't know, I think it's because I look at everyone like I want to kick their butts."

She giggled, and it was so adorable that you couldn't help but smile too.

"And you want to do that?" she asked.

"Sometimes," you brought the beer close to your mouth. "With some pampered jerks." You drank.

"Ah yeah, there are plenty of those here. I'm Ashley, by the way," she extended her hand towards you.

"I'm Mason," you accepted her hand and shook it with a small smile. "And you're one of the few people I've told my name to."

The last quarter of the game had already started, but it was impossible for you to pay attention to it, because you and Ashley were engaged in a conversation that flowed like the flow of a river downhill.

She told you interesting things about her life, like for example that she no longer lived on campus and had her own apartment not far from the bar. She also told you that she lived for a few years in South Korea with her mother, and that she had returned to the United States exclusively to study her degree. You didn't have too many things in common, contrary to what usually happens in romantic movies, but you could tell that chemistry arose between the two of you. She listened to you happily while you talked about your interests and hobbies, and you listened to her too. You laughed, and a lot, which seemed unreal to you since you had counted the times you had laughed with someone since you arrived at that place.

And damn, she was so, so pretty when she laughed that it made your inner self giggle and kick. Everything about her was adorable: her voice, the way she expressed herself, her smile, her hair, and even something as silly as the way she arched her eyebrows when you told her something slightly crazy.

Calling it love at first sight was downright stupid, because you were sure that to her you were just a friendly guy to have a nice chat with, but you were smitten. It was perhaps hasty to feel that way, but you couldn't just ignore that she, apart from being beautiful, was the first person your age that you had talked to for more than half an hour without feeling like you were bothering her.

And considering your situation, well, that was quite a lot.

"I swear to god!" you said, telling her about a time you had to chase your dog for almost two streets. "If it wasn't for..."

"Ashley?" a female voice said, coming from the stairs.

You and Ashley turned around. At the bottom of the stairs were two girls, both tipsy looking. One of them walked towards you.

"We thought you had gone home!" she said, standing next to you. "You coming? We're gonna continue the party at Riley's. place"

"Oh, sure," Ashley looked at you for a moment and then back at her. "Can you wait for me downstairs? I want to say goodbye to Mason."

"Who the fuck is Mason?"

You just held up your hand with an awkward smile.

"My pleasure," you said.

"Oh, my pleasure too," she nodded and then looked at Ashley. "Hurry up then, we're about to leave!"

"Yeah yeah go Vivian," Ashley dismissed her with a carefree wave of her hand.

Vivian turned around and walked with the other girl back down to the first floor. Ashley then looked at you.

"Sorry about that, I would have loved to hear more of that story," she said with a giggle.

"Don't worry," you shook your head and looked at your watch. "I'm actually running late too, I don't want to sleep that late."

"Oh, come on then?" she asked, standing up while pointing to the stairs. "We can give you a ride to campus if you want."

"Nah no need," you said with a chuckle. "I'll finish this beer and walk, but thanks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah yeah," you nodded. "Worse distances I've walked."

"Alright!" she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as she took steps backwards. "It was nice meeting you, Mason, really."

"Same here. Will you be back here next weekend?"

"Mmm maybe, maybe not," she shrugged. "I don't know, it all depends on my schedule."

"I understand," you nodded. "Well, I'm here every Saturday after 6."

"Good to know," she nodded with a smile. "See you later!"

She turned to walk back down the stairs, but you couldn't just let her leave like that. Who knew when you'd see her again?

"Hey, Ashley!" you called out to her, and she stopped with one foot on the first step.

"Huh?"

"Uhm... I don't mean to be intrusive, but can I have your number?"

Ashley chuckled, and you thought you'd made a fool of yourself and she'd leave, but instead she walked back up and walked towards you.

"I don't give my number to just anyone," she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "But we can follow each other on Instagram."

Well, a start was a start.

"Yeah I'm cool with that!"

Ashley showed you her Instagram, and you quickly went to yours to follow her. She then followed you back.

"There ya go!" she put her phone back away, and walked backwards towards the stairs. "Well, now I really have to go, my friends are going to kill me."

"Absolutely. Take care, okay?"

"You too!" Ashley said, then turned around and walked down the stairs.

"Uhm... I don't want to be intrusive, but can I have your number?" you heard Jordan scoff behind you, followed by a laugh. "Oh my god."

You sighed and turned back to the bar.

"Shut up bro," you said, and took a long drink of your beer.

After finishing that beer you finally asked for the bill and paid before leaving. The snowfall had gotten worse outside, so you spent the whole way back to campus with your head down and your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker, but most of all, thinking about her.

You couldn't help but feel like a complete idiot. She was a girl you had just met and she already had butterflies in your stomach. But how could she not? Every time you remembered her smiling it was like seeing a cute picture of Kirby, she even sounded like him when she laughed. She was unpleasantly cute.

When you got to your dorm the first thing you did was sit down and check her Instagram. She didn't have too many posts, but the few she had were 15 photos or more. Without realizing it, you spent about ten minutes absolutely mesmerized by her beauty, but because of that you missed a damn like on an old post that you quickly deleted.

You dropped the phone and brought your hands to your mouth, staring into absolute nothingness, thinking of the possible repercussions that would have, the worst being that you were going to look like a fucking stalker. God, you were a complete idiot.

You had no choice but to try to forget about it. Pretend it hadn't happened. Instead of thinking about it, you focused on attending to the needs of your stomach, which had been growling for a couple of hours, and after that, you took a shower and went straight to bed.

Despite being constantly aware of your surroundings, you didn't see Ashley during that entire exam week. It was kind of odd: your schedules would really have to be too different for you to never see her, even from a distance, and yet, at least once at some random hour you had to see her; Harvard wasn't that big.

She did upload the occasional story to her Instagram from time to time, many of them being things from her daily life and rather few of herself, whether in mirrors or selfies with her friends. There was one day when she even uploaded a story drinking a cocktail. Who knows where. Questionable, but certainly not your problem.

However, you didn't have time to be focused on what she did or didn't do. The week had been hard as hell, as had the exams you were prepared for but still felt like constantly walking a tightrope over an abyss. You were sure you had done well in each one, but there were several study sessions that had you with a severe headache that didn't go away until it was all over.

It was an exhausting week, and emotionally one to forget. But on Friday night something happened that you didn't expect, something that had you doing backflips and running up and down the walls of your bedroom. A like from Ashley on one of your old posts.

There were a couple of ways to interpret it. It could have just been a mistake, like yours had a few days ago. But that was ruled out when you realized that she hadn't unliked your post. The other way to interpret it was that she was making fun of you and wanted to let you know that she realized what you had done.

And of course, the last way to interpret it was that... Nah, that wasn't possible. Or was it? How the hell was the human version of Kirby going to be interested in you? That was impossible. You had only talked to her once, and you didn't remember being Prince Charming exactly. You had just been you, and that wasn't enough to make a girl like you after just an hour of conversation.

Or maybe it was? Thinking about it had you stressed out. You wanted to DM her, but doing so right now would make you look like a desperate weirdo. Maybe you lacked balls, but you wanted to do everything you could to not really scare this girl away, so you were going to take things slow and not make any risky moves.

Right now all you wanted was for Saturday to come. She had been clear with you, and you knew she could just not show up at the bar tomorrow. But you were still excited about the possibility that she would. You wished she would. And you had to think back to see if you had ever been this excited to see a girl in the past few years.

When the day came you went to the bar without any expectations in order not to be disappointed if something happened. When you got upstairs Jordan greeted you with his usual cheer, and you started your evening with the usual cold beer before the start of another Celtics game.

"Ayo bro what's wrong with you?" Jordan asked an hour later, frowning. "You're acting weird as fuck."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You've been looking back like you're going to shoot the fuck out of this bitch and moving your leg this whole time. Look, you're doing it right now!" he pointed down.

You looked where he was pointing, and sure enough, you were moving your leg without realizing it. You also noticed that every so often you looked over your shoulder.

"First of all, I'm not going to shoot anything," you said, forcing yourself to stop your leg. "And... fuck, it's because of her."

"Her?" he raised both eyebrows. "Her who?"

"Fuck you mean her who?" You frowned.

“Ohhh! Ash?” he said, and let out a giggle.

“Aha.”

Jordan laughed and handed a ready-made drink to one of the customers near you.

“Right right,” he nodded. “Can I have your number?” he mimicked you in a silly voice. “Look, talking about Helen of Troy.”

You were two milliseconds away from turning around like the girl from the Exorcist, but you had enough self-control to turn your head like a normal person.

Ashley had just walked up the stairs, and she looked just as pretty as the last time you saw her, with her hair down, a white college sweater, and a grey scarf that still had traces of snow on it.

And as soon as she saw you, her face lit up with a smile, causing the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy.

“Uhhh you got her in your pocket bro, look at that smile!” Jordan said from behind you, close to your ear so Ashley couldn't hear. "Aight so hear me out, I'll give you a hand, you'll see."

You frowned.

"Wait what?" You turned to look at him, but he had already played dumb and gone on to serve another customer.

Ashley came to your side at that moment, taking the free seat to your right, just like last time.

"Hi Mason! Hi Jordan!" she greeted you both, but focused her attention on you.

"Sup," you greeted back, turning to her. "I'm glad you came."

"Yeah well, I finished all my homework early and also studied enough to be free today."

"Oh really? Free to see someone, maybe?" you raised your eyebrows and took a sip of your beer.

"Mmm, I don't know," she shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I was really in the mood for a drink on a Saturday."

You chuckled and nodded.

"Aight, you want a beer then? It's on me, and I insist."

"Yeah I'm cool with that!" she nodded.

"On my way!" Jordan said.

"Thanks bro," you said, then looked at Ashley. "So? How was torture week for you?"

The smile on Ashley's face faded, and her eyes wandered to an empty glass on the bar.

"I mean..." she cocked her head and made an awkward face. "Well, I think? I don't have too many hopes for myself, but I don't feel like I did a bad job either," she looked at you. "What about you?"

"Exhausting," you sighed. "But I feel like I'll pass everything with flying colors. Do you feel like you didn't study hard enough or what?"

"Something like that. Let's just say I got a little too confident."

Jordan came over with your beers and placed them in front of each of you. You both smiled at him in thanks.

"Why do I feel like that cocktail drinking story has something to do with it?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ashley was about to drink from her beer when she burst out laughing, having to set the glass down on the table so she wouldn't spill it. You looked at her with a smile, gobsmacked by her cuteness.

“Hey!” she snapped between laughs. “That was just an hour!”

“But it was enough to distract you,” you said before sipping on your beer.

“Nah, I’m good at dividing up my schedule.”

“6 hours of drinking and another two for studying?”

She laughed again, and this time she gave you a small, friendly punch on the shoulder.

“No, silly. You’re really into my stories huh?”

“I spend a lot of time on Instagram, so I end up checking them all the time and accidentally,” you shrugged.

“Accidentally, I see,” she nodded slowly. “Same as that like, right?”

Your hand froze around the glass of beer, where you looked with a smile of being on the ropes.

“Yup, same as that like,” you looked into her eyes. "And yours? Was that accidental too or what?"

She gently shook her head, holding your gaze.

"Nope, that was completely on purpose."

A smile escaped you. Things were flowing smooth as butter. It was up to you not to screw up.

"So you did come here today to see someone huh?"

"Maybe," she brought a hand to a lock of her hair to play with it. "And you seemed to be waiting for someone today."

"You," you said, not really thinking about it beforehand, just a shot in the air.

"Oh really?" she raised both eyebrows, now curling her lock of hair. "But you always come here, not this day at this time?"

"Yeah, but the difference is that now I've been waiting all week for Saturday to come."

Ashley giggled and looked away, now playing with her fingers in her lap.

"To see me?" she asked, and looked at you again.

"To see you," you nodded.

"What if I didn't come?"

"Eventually you would," you shrugged. "Pure statistics. But the odds increase if you wanted to see me too."

Ashley was quiet for a moment, just like you had been when she brought up the subject of you liking her post, a half smile on her face and her gaze on her glass. She then shrugged.

"You got me, I guess," she said.

"It wasn't that hard either. Hey, do you want to get something to eat?" you asked, changing the subject.

"Like what?" she said, and took a long drink of her beer.

"I don't know, they make some pretty tasty stuff downstairs. Maybe something sweet?"

"Mmm, nutella waffles?"

"Oh hell yeah, and they make some amazing cookie sandwiches too."

“That’s a yes then!”

“You wanna go sit over there?” you nodded behind her, towards one of the tables in the corner.

“Sure, let’s go,” Ashley replied with a smile as you both stood up from the bar.

As you passed, you glanced at Jordan, who was watching you with a mix of expectation and complicity. In response, he winked at you and discreetly dimmed the lights in the bar. The atmosphere changed instantly: the shadows lengthened, the warm lighting accentuated the textures of the brick walls and created an intimate space at the table you chose.

You owed that guy one.

The table in question was a cozy booth, with a brown leather corner sofa and high backs set against the brick wall. Ashley slid into the seat and sat right in the corner.

“I’ll go place the orders, wait here, will you?” you said, setting your glass of beer down next to hers.

Ashley just nodded with a cute smirk on her face, and then you hurried downstairs. You placed the order as quickly as you could, with a couple of milkshakes on top of the waffles and sandwiches, and then returned to her, sitting down to the side.

"I hope you like the lemon pie milkshakes, they're delicious," you said, arranging the plates and glasses on the table.

"I love lemon pie," she said, picking up one of the milkshakes to drink from the straw. "Did the stalking pay off or what?"

A laugh escaped you.

"Sweetheart, as much as I tried, I haven't been following you long enough to know that."

"Oh, you're calling me sweetheart now?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Uh... I'm sorry, does it bother you?"

Ashley then moved closer to you. It was really something very subtle, but you noticed it by the closeness of your thighs.

"It's cute, why would it bother me?" she said, holding your gaze.

You were closer than you'd ever been at that moment. It could happen, and you had a feeling she wanted it, but after looking at her lips a few times you decided not to push your luck too much.

"I don't know," you shrugged. "Some people find it uncomfortable, and I wouldn't want to make you feel that way."

She stayed quiet as she looked at you. You frowned in confusion.

"What?" you said.

"You're really cute, Mason," Ashley replied, in a lower tone. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you that."

The way you folded yourself into seven separate pieces was a bit hard to hide, but you were sure it had to have shown on your cheeks as they felt warm from the blush.

“I-I… ah…” you felt like an idiot getting stuck on your own words; your brain had short-circuited for a few seconds. “No. At least not here.”

Ashley placed a hand on your thigh, near your knee. A statue could be more alive than you at that moment.

“That’s a shame, because you really are.”

You once again tried to say something, but only a silly stutter came out of your mouth that ended in silence. It was your chance.

“Shall we eat?” she said, before you could lunge in and kiss her. She didn’t notice your intentions, so she didn’t have to have done it on purpose. Still, it was pretty inopportune.

“Ah… yeah,” you nodded, turning back to the plates and milkshakes. "Sure, sure."

There was silence between you as you began to eat, but not an awkward silence, rather a peaceful one, which made it clear that both you and she were comfortable with each other. Only after a couple of minutes passed did you resume the conversation, which this time was oriented towards anecdotes and interesting facts about your lives. Needless to say, you felt like you could talk to her about anything and she would be just as happy to listen to you, as you would to her.

But you needed to kiss her. You really, really needed to.

"Gosh those waffles are really crazy stuff," Ashley said with the milkshake in her hand, once you had finished eating.

"What about the cookie sandwiches?" you asked with a smile.

"I wasn't that big of a fan, but they were good too," she shrugged.

You chuckled.

"Fair enough, we can't all have excellent tastes."

Ashley laughed and nudged you slightly. You stared at her. Noticing this, she tilted her head and frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"You're so fucking cute, Ashley," you said, admiring every detail of her pretty face, dimly illuminated by the warm light of the bar's spherical lamps. "You really are."

That took her by surprise. She blinked several times, visibly stunned by such a sudden statement, but as she processed the information, her lips curved into a small smirk.

"You think so?" she asked in a low tone, and brought her hand back to your thigh, now closer to your crotch, awakening in you thoughts that were no longer so innocent.

"Yeah, I think so," you said, and put your right arm in front of her abdomen to grab her waist. You couldn't tell from the baggy clothes the weather forced you two to wear, but she had a small waist and a tummy that you found extremely sexy.

"So what are you waiting for?" She squeezed your thigh with her fingers.

"Waiting for what?" You pressed her closer, your faces now inches apart.

Ashley leaned in close to your ear.

"To take me downstairs to the bathroom and fuck me," she whispered, and pulled back to look you in the eyes again. "And kiss me, of course."

W-h-a-t?

You blinked a few times, confused by what you had just heard. Was she the same Ashley? Had you gotten distracted and she had switched with her evil twin? It wasn't like it bothered you, but it was such a drastic change that it seemed unreal.

"Wow," you said with a chuckle, and brought the hand on her waist up to her thigh to brush the side of your finger against her crotch. "In that order?"

Ashley moved her hand up and placed it on your bulge to give it a single, firm squeeze.

"As you prefer," she said, biting her lip as she looked down at yours.

And then you kissed her.

From the beginning, it was difficult for you to control yourself from making a scene in front of everyone's eyes, because her lips had a delicious pineapple flavor that drove you crazy and made you want to devour her like a maniac. For the moment, you had to settle for that slow, discreet kiss, like the one any couple shared at a bar.

Ashley was forced to remove her hand from your bulge, and you were forced to remove yours from near her crotch. Instead she left her hands still in her own lap and you just continued to squeeze her thigh with your hand. As the seconds passed your breathing became heavier, and by the way she shifted in her seat you knew that it was enough of kissing and it was time to move on to the fun part.

"To the bathroom downstairs then?" you asked against her lips.

"The one on the basement floor," she clarified. "There won't be anyone down there at this hour."

"Do you scream a lot or what?" you teased.

"Take me there and find out."

You smiled and took her hand before standing up. You both walked out of the stall and straight to the first floor, where Ashley stepped away from you.

"Let me go first," she said, steps away from the exit. "I wouldn't want us to be so brazen either."

"Aight go," you nodded.

Ashley walked out of the bar and headed down to the basement. You waited for about five minutes before heading in that same direction, leaving the bar to go left and down the stairs that led to the basement. Just like Ashley said, there were like four people down there counting the bartender, so it wouldn't be a problem.

Absolutely no one paid you any attention as you walked through the room. Good for you, because you were able to enter the ladies' room without any opposition. Inside it wasn't hard for you to guess where Ashley was: she was in the back stall, with her hand sticking out of the half-open door.

Rushing in there you found her waiting patiently for you, leaning against the wall with her other hand behind her back.

"You're late," Ashley joked with a mischievous smirk as you locked the bathroom door.

"I'll go if you want," you pointed with your thumb.

"Nuh-uh, come here," she said, and grabbed your face with both hands before crashing her lips against yours.

With no potential stares now, you two were free to let loose, your tongues now entering the equation just seconds into the kiss, which was becoming more and more wild and sloppy. Ashley lowered one hand to the side of your neck, and brought the other to your cock to squeeze and massage it over your pants. You, for your part, were met with a pair of firm, round buttocks as you lowered your hands and squeezed them. She let out a small moan against your lips, and brought her other hand down to unbutton your pants, unzipping them, and reaching into your boxers to cup your cock with her delicate fingers and slowly stroke it.

"You must be freezing from the weather," she murmured after moving a few inches away from your lips. "Maybe I can give you some warmth."

With that Ashley dropped to her knees in front of you and pulled your pants and boxers down to your ankles. With your cock released in front of her face, she placed wet kisses on the underside, moved down to your balls to lick them, and then back to your tip to catch it between her lips and suck on it.

"Fuck Ashley..." you gasped, bringing a hand to her silky brown hair to push it out of her face.

She gave your tip a couple of sucks and pulled you out to slowly jerk you off.

"Still cold?" Ashley asked. "Don't worry, I got you."

With that she placed her hands on your thighs and opened her mouth to take your cock inside her. Now her lips went further, slowly going millimeters past the middle of your shaft to come back up and start sucking you off. She made eye contact with you, which made your cheeks feel hot since until a few hours ago you only saw her as a giggly adorable princess, and now that cute princess was giving you a sloppy, sensual blowjob.

"Fuck that's perfect Ash," you moaned, watching as she pumped her head at a steady pace, slurping up the saliva she left behind and also using her tongue to lick the underside of your shaft.

"Warm enough?" Ashley asked after pulling you out, now kissing the sides of your cock while rubbing her fingers along the first few inches of it. "I still have a little magic trick."

She put her hands on your thighs and took your cock back into her mouth. This time, after a few sucks halfway down your shaft, her mouth went further and further until it reached your base, where her nose rested for a few long, fascinating seconds as your tip brushed the walls of her throat.

And yes, it was fucking warm. Overwhelmingly so, you dare say.

“Shit…” you moaned, letting your head fall back and bringing your hand to the back of Ashley’s neck.

A couple seconds later she released your cock with a couple of coughs and heavy gasps, and continued to jerk you off while wiping her spit-stained chin.

“Better?” she asked.

“Ashley… what the fuck was that,” you managed to say, now looking into her eyes. “The last thing I would think when I saw your face is that you give amazing blowjobs.”

“And I have a pretty tight pussy too, just so you know.”

You were officially going crazy.

“May I taste it?” you asked.

Ashley smiled and stood up, turned around and bent over with her hands braced against the wall of the stall. She then looked over her shoulder at you and looked down at your cock rubbing against her ass. You immediately got on your knees behind her, grabbed the hem of her sweatpants and pulled them down.

“Oh fuck,” was the only thing you could think to say. Her ass was a complete beauty: it was small, but the shape of her buttocks and how soft her skin looked made it look like a whole snack.

“You like it?” she asked, slowly swinging it from side to side.

"I have a way to answer that," you said, and placed both hands on either side of her hip before you began kissing every spot on her pretty ass, not stopping until both pale cheeks were covered in your saliva and your teeth marked on the fleshiest areas.

With your entrance already covered you wanted to move on to the main course as quickly as possible, so you grabbed her light blue panties—already with a wet spot in the middle—and pulled them down to her ankles along with her sweatpants, rolled around her feet. Her pussy was as pretty as her face, shaved, smooth, pink and shiny from how wet it was. You plunged your mouth in there without a second's thought.

"Mmmgh," Ashley moaned, pushing her hips back to bury your face between her ass cheeks, which you parted so you could easily taste her delicious, silky folds with your tongue.

The bathroom stall was soon filled with cute, low moans. You ate her pussy slowly at first, not wanting to look like a desperate fucking lunatic. But it was clear that wasn't going to last too long, not when her wet flesh was this delicious and her hips moved in such an adorable way as the pleasure built in her.

"Oh fuck I knew you'd be good with that fucking tongue," she gasped, her legs suffering from spontaneous tremors.

"You do?" you asked with an incredulous giggle, and squeezed her ass cheeks. "Apparently I was the only one with innocent intentions then."

"Don't get me wrong, me too," she looked over her shoulder at you, biting her lip. "But I also wanted you to eat my pussy really bad."

"Slutty behavior if you ask me," you said, and sank your mouth back into her pussy before she could protest.

Ashley moaned louder and pushed her hips back. Hard, to smother you with her ass. You contently let her do it at this point, more focused on licking between her folds and giving you a treat than your own breathing. This paid off a few seconds later, when the muscles in her thighs contracted and she burst into moans, grinding her ass into your face.

“Oh fuck!” she squealed under her breath, holding back from screaming louder. “Hurry up and fuck me for god’s sake!”

You stood up and bent over your pants bunched around your ankles to pull your wallet out of your pocket. Only to realize what a fucking problem there was: you hadn’t brought a fucking condom.

Were you fucking stupid or what?

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, eyeing the wallet.

Ashley turned to look at you with a scowl.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t bring… well, you know.”

“A condom?” She raised an eyebrow. "Mason fuck the fucking condom fuck me already!"

Well, if things were that way you weren't going to refuse; you were too horny to think of the most responsible decision at the moment.

"Yeah you're damn right."

You dropped your wallet to the floor and focused entirely on her. Your left hand went to her waist, and with your right you grabbed your cock to bring it between her ass cheeks and rubbed the tip between her folds just a couple of times before pressing forward. You and Ashley moaned as you took the first few inches inside her.

"Oh fuck slow slow slow," she said, and you slowly took every inch of your cock inside her. "Oh yes that feels so fucking good!"

"You weren't lying about having a tight pussy, fuck," you panted already balls deep inside her, her pussy walls squeezing your cock.

"You like it huh?" she asked, looking into your eyes. "Then you better fuck it properly."

"Bet," you said, and began to rock your hips back and forth, patiently increasing the pace so as not to hurt her. Before long the thrusts became consistent, your cock going completely in and out of that smothering pussy and your smacks against her ass reverberating through the empty bathroom.

Ashley bent lower on her back, leaning with her forearms against the wall of the stall as you fucked her faster, clinging to her small waist and making her buttocks jiggle. The bubble of pleasure you were both locked in made you quickly forget you were in a public place, so it got to a point where you were making a downright shameless fuss.

Until you heard voices approaching.

Ashley's eyes widened and she looked at you. You stopped, and your first instinct was to push her away from the wall, wrap an arm around her body and sit on the closed toilet lid (which thankfully didn't break). She was smart enough to understand what you wanted to do, so she grabbed her sweatpants and panties, pulled them off her ankles and pulled her feet up onto your knees at the exact moment two girls walked in talking.

"Yeah I don't know why he acts like that," one of the girls said, and you heard a sink turn on. "But then her fucking bitch of a best friend comes and says I'm the toxic one!"

You covered Ashley's mouth, and with her hands resting on each wall of the stall, she slowly went up and down on your cock, while you, with your free hand, rubbed her clit at the same discreet rhythm.

"Bitch cut it with that son of a bitch already!" said the other. "You've put up with too much shit from him lately."

"Fuck, should I?"

"Fuck you mean should I?! He spent a night with that hoe!"

If you didn't have Ashley moving up and down on your cock in that delicious way you would have laughed. But you did have to reinforce your fingers in her mouth, because she let out a moan that was luckily drowned out by the sound of the sink running.

"But he has a big dick!" The girl protested.

The other girl growled in frustration, and this time you did manage to let out a smile that almost turned into a chuckle.

"I can't stand you bitch, I swear to god."

The faucet turned off, and now you and Ashley were helpless if they stayed any longer and paid attention to where you were.

"I still want him to break up with me, not me him. I don't want any trouble with that damn bitch," the other girl said, and now her voice was fortunately heard further away.

"Are you chickening out or what?" the other girl replied, already out of the bathroom.

The conversation was no longer understandable to you, indicating that they finally left the bathroom. You took your hand off Ashley's mouth, and she was free to let out a relieved sigh followed by a moan.

"Fucking annoying bitches," she hissed, then slid her feet off your knees to replace them with her hands and bounced on your cock harder. "God that cock feels so good I wanna cry."

You brought your hands to her waist and reveled in the sight of your cock fully entering and exiting her pretty little body. Ashley bounced hard and fast, filling the bathroom with clapping sounds and inconspicuous moans. Her ass cheeks looked so pretty doing it that you couldn't help but squeeze both together and leave a spank on one, and she responded with a cute squeal.

"Turn around, I wanna kiss you," you panted with your hand on her lower back.

Ashley complied, and immediately rose off your cock to turn around and straddle you, her legs hanging over the sides of the toilet. You wrapped an arm around her waist, crashed your lips against hers and made her impale herself on your cock again.

With a moan against your lips she began to move on your cock as fast as she could, because the position wasn't exactly the most comfortable for her. For you, however, it was more attainable since you could simply plant your feet firmly on the floor and fuck her up and down. Ashley, relieved by this, wrapped her arms around your head and held onto your hair as you fucked her.

"Oh god I'm gonna cum so hard," she gasped into the kiss. "Fuck keep going!"

You brought your hands up to her ass to squeeze and grope it again before cranking up the engine. Ashley let her head fall back and held onto your neck with both hands, quickly being dragged into an orgasm that had her writhing and grinding her hips on top of you.

As she was riding out her climax you took the moment to kiss her pretty pale neck and under her chin, arms wrapped around her petite, quivering body to keep it pressed to yours at all times. Then, when you felt like you could continue, you used the strength in your legs to stand up with her carried. Ashley had a little scare, but still managed to hold on with her legs to your torso until you pressed her against the left wall of the stall, spread her legs wide, and with your hands behind her knees continued to hammer her pussy.

"You know I'd love to?" you asked, peppering the side of her neck with kisses.

"W-what?" she managed to reply despite her ragged breathing.

"Seeing your pretty princess face painted white," you said, and moved up to her jawline.

"Let me finish you off then, handsome," she panted with her hands on your back. "I could use a hot load for my skin."

You immediately pulled out of her pussy, lowered her, and she got on her knees in front of you, her head resting against the wall behind her. She caught your tip with her lips, sucked on it, and gripped her fingers to your shaft to stroke it at full speed. The eye contact was more intense than you expected, as Ashley's eyes went from being two pretty, shiny orbs to the eyes of a feline predator eager for its prey. If that wasn't enough, the girl was naughty enough to also grab your balls and give them such a good massage that you exploded without even warning.

Feeling a drop of your load inside her mouth, Ashley quickly pulled you out of it to masturbate you fiercely and receive every jet of cum on her pretty face. Every corner was covered in thick white liquid, in a perfect work of art that was deeply contrasted by the place you were in.

She moved her wrist slower as you stopped shooting jets, and finally took you back into her mouth to suck and clean every possible inch of your shaft.

"Fuck... so beautiful," you managed to say between gasps, admiring her face covered in cum all over.

"And if you behave from now on you can have this as many times as you want, baby," she said, and blew you a little kiss. "Pass me some toilet paper please."

You did so, and first helped her stand up before helping her wipe her face. Then you got dressed, and spent at least another five minutes just making out. It was she who pulled away from you with a small smile on her face.

"Do you want to spend the night with me?" she asked.

"Yes!" you replied embarrassingly quickly and nodded. "I'd love to."

Ashley giggled and opened the stall door.

"I'll go first, but first, your phone," she held out her hand.

"Huh, for what?"

"Just give it to me."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and handed it to her already unlocked. She then typed for less than a minute and handed it back to you.

"Here, you earned it," she told you, winked at you and walked out of the stall and out of the bathroom.

You looked down, and what you saw was her contact with her damn number.

━•✦•━•✦•━━•✦•━•✦•━

Spren Notes: Consider this just a starter to welcome the best time of the year, hehehe. Btw, with Gowon there are already 2 of the 12 LOONA girls. Hope to be able to write all of them sooner or later. As always. Thanks for reading! MASTERLIST HERE!

#gowon smut #loossemble smut #loona smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #male reader smut #x male reader insert #smut

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #robin buckley #steddie ficlet #steddie spooktober

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aajjks · 15 days ago

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Love & War (m)

warnings: vèry lóng, híghly 18+ thèmès, èxplïcït smüt/sèx, únprótèctèd sèx, chèátíng, górè, múrdèr, prègnáncy, lônlíness, èxplïcït víölèncè, blóód, yándèrè cháràctès, bördèrlínè cóffèè àddïctïön, dàrk jüngkóók.

pairing: yandere police officer jungkook x fem!Barista reader

genre: strictly 18+ killer fic, rated M, Gore, thriller and erotica

word count: 6,000

note. My fingers have been hurting so much these days because I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to writing this. I started this draft on October 14 and now I have finally finished it today and I wanted to publish this because I have worked hard on this so much I’ve done a lot of extensive research so please guys like it and re-blog it. This is worth a read I promise please please send feedback and let me know what you think because I really need it.

•••

This case in particular is brutal.

As Jungkook sits in his office space, he’s looking at the latest crime scene pictures. And they are brutal, the man’s throat is literally spilling out, tongue cut off.

There’s so much blood.

Seodaemun-gu is particularly cold, and he’s been working overtime, as an inspector he’s been pretty busy thanks to a psychotic serial killer who’s been targeting a lot of men lately

This is the 17th victim.

Jungkooks been trying to piece the puzzle together, he picks up the warm cup of coffee and gulps down another sip, his furrows his eyebrows, he knows that it’s just one person doing all of these killings.

The pattern of killing is too similar, the gore, the marks, the method.

There is a familiar drug found in every single one of the victims bodies.

“Fuck.” He curses as he drops the pictures on the table, he needs to catch the killer before it’s too late, it is too late anyways.

October isn’t so kind this year, it is harshly cold. And this case has his whole attention. “I’ll catch you, psycho.” He mutters under his breath.

He will catch the psycho before Halloween.

Jungkooks grip on his cup tightens. He will make this killer pay. Just as he’s staring at the pictures again, his phone rings.

He sighs, averting his gaze to his phone as he picks it up, a small smile playing on his face. “Hey baby!!!” He grins speaking into the phone.

He loves his girlfriend so much. She’s the only thing that is making him happy these days.

“Hey koo!” as she greets him back, he cannot stop smiling, “ahh so are we still on for tonight?” He asks slyly, she makes him so happy.

There is a silence for a few seconds, but he waits patiently for her response, Jungkook holds the phone up his ear, waiting.

“Oh… sorry baby but no, I’m kinda busy tonight. You know this assignment is keeping me up all night. I can’t I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters.

“U-Uh..”

This is the third time.

“Umm it’s okay.” he replies, playing it cool but honestly, he’s a little upset because she’s been doing everything but spending time with him and he’s the one trying to solve a fucking murder case.

“Don’t be upset koo… I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He sighs. “It’s okay baby. I…understand.” Jungkook knows there’s no point in arguing.

He just misses her.

After talking to her for a few minutes, he finally ends the call. It’s time he refocuses on the case.

What he should be focusing on right now is catching the killer

And not the fact that his girlfriend is literally ignoring him for the past days, he’s barely seen her face this month, it’s bothering him, but he cannot afford to be distracted right now.

There cannot be an 18th victim.

He won’t let it happen.

•••

It’s lonely

But at least now he gets to go to his favorite coffee shop and drink, coffee in peace while staring out at the view, honestly speaking the view isn’t that special but jungkook likes to have some free time to himself just so he can reconnect with the world.

he enters the coffee shop, the bells above jingle as the door opens, it’s not too crowded today which is a good thing because the less the crowd the more he can focus and think.

Only a handful of people who are drinking and waiting for their orders as he approaches his table. Jungkook sits down on it, taking the chair out.

He scans the area. He likes how peaceful it is here because his job is not peaceful or neither cute, he has just come back from seeing a gruesome murder scene and this is exactly the detox He needs right now.

“Hey!!! Mr Jeon?” his snap of his thoughts when the barista calls out his name, he turns to look ahead, and smiles seeing the familiar face.

“Hey Ms yn! How’s it going? I think I’m just gonna have the regular.” He tells, looking at you, and you nod, you’re a sweet girl.

You’ve been serving him coffee for the past year almost, “well got it! Maybe I should get you some brownie too; of course courtesy of me.” You laugh, “looks like you really could use some sweetness in your life since you work so hard”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “yeah you’re right. It’s been quite bitter these days.” He mutters to himself almost.

You walk away. impatiently, he waits for his coffee.. He might have an addiction, but it’s OK. Caffeine is necessary when you’re a police officer.

Sometime later you come back with his order. And he looks at you, thanking you.. “thank you Ms yn. Appreciate you for putting up with me.” he jokes, you give him a kind smile, “oh Mr Jeon how about you Just call me yn?” You insist and he almost blushes.

“Ahhh sure sure I will but only if you call me by my first name too.” He waves his hand, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and the smell of the brownie just fills his nostrils and he hums in delight

“The brownie smells so good and this coffee is awesome. Thank you so much.”

You wink in return, which has his cheeks actually burning up

You’re bold and you’re confident and that he appreciates about you because maybe you like him a little and you don’t really make an effort to hide the fact

“Okay.. I’ll go now have fun” he watches as you go away.

And he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest.

•••

A few days later, his same routine just goes on and on, but there is not a single point that he has been able to catch, which could help him actually lead to the killer

And his days are only getting worse. There’s an emptiness that he’s starting to feel. Honestly, he feels like a failure.

A failure of a boyfriend and a failure of an inspector.

Jungkook steps into his dimly lit apartment, shrugging off his rain-soaked jacket. The warmth of the place feels hollow, as if reflecting the emptiness creeping into his chest. He slumps onto the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. His mind is a mess, caught between the horrifying images of the latest crime scene, Mina’s growing distance, and the subtle comfort he finds in your quiet presence at the café.

He pulls out his phone and stares at Mina’s name in his contacts. Something in him snaps, and before he can overthink it, he presses “Call.”

It rings longer than it should.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped, impatient.

“Mina. Can you come over?” he asks out of desperation because he so lonely, and he needs to feel her love and her warmth.

“It’s late, Jungkook. I’m busy.” he understands it. She’s been busy, but it’s been so long since he’s been with her physically and she keeps on being distant.

He’s starting to break, his face falls, and his voice hardens at her sudden coldness.

“Busy with what?” he demands, the sharpness in his voice surprising even himself. he gripped the phone tighter and waits for her response with a thumping heartbeat.

There’s a pause, long enough for unease to settle in his gut. “Work,” she finally says, but the word feels rehearsed, flat.

“Bullshit.” He stands, pacing the small living room. “You’re lying to me.” he knows that she’s lying. Does she really think that he’s that stupid?

“Excuse me?” Her tone hardens, defensive.

“You’ve been distant for weeks,” he says, his voice rising. “The late nights, the dodged questions, the way you look at me like I’m a stranger. If there’s something you’re hiding, Mina, I deserve to know.”

She exhales sharply, a sound halfway between frustration and guilt. “You’re paranoid, Jungkook. You’re always at work, always chasing some killer. Maybe the problem isn’t me—it’s you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice the way you’re pulling away? The phone calls you don’t take around me? If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

“You’re impossible,” she finally says, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You think everything revolves around you and your job, but you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Maybe I have been distant, Jungkook, but can you blame me? You’re so wrapped up in your case that there’s no room for anything—or anyone—else.”

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re deflecting. Just tell me the truth, Mina. Are you seeing someone else?”

Her sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mina,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not doing this,” she says, and the line goes dead.

Jungkook stares at his phone, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He throws his phone onto the couch and grabs his keys, his mind a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something he can’t quite name.

But for a fact, he knows that he’s lost Mina forever. And the realization dawns on him as he stares at his phone screen. He’s alone once again like he has been for a month.

But maybe this time, forever

And it doesn’t take him long to break down in his apartment. He’s so alone and maybe he will be forever. Why can nobody ever love him?

Is he not deserving of love?

•••

The coffee shop is dark except for the faint glow of a single lamp by the counter. You’re wiping down the tables, your movements unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world. The sight of you—calm, grounded—makes something in Jungkook loosen, just slightly.

You look up as he enters, the chime of the bell breaking the silence.

“Jungkook?” you say, surprised. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to the counter and leans against it. “I needed to get out of my head.”

You study him, noting the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. “Rough day?”

He laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

The way you look at him, makes his heart flutter in an abnormal way, maybe it’s the loneliness that he’s making behave like this but you’re gaze actually drives him crazy

You hesitate for a moment before stepping around the counter, standing a little closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, then softens. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

You nod, not pushing him for details. Instead, you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden behind the counter for nights like this. You pour him a glass and slide it across the table.

“Here,” you say. “On the house.”

He takes a sip, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. “Thanks.”

You sit down beside him, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

“You’re always here,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

“Someone has to be,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile.

“You know Y/N? I’m so fucking alone. My girlfriend is probably cheating on me. She doesn’t care about me…. No one cares about me.” His voice breaks on the last sentence.

You look at him with pity and something deeper swimming in your gaze, but he doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, you urge him to continue so he does.

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “It’s more than that. You don’t know what it means to me, Y/N. Just… knowing there’s someone who gives a damn.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Well, you look like you could use someone in your corner.”

He turns to you then, his gaze intense, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels charged, electric

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, your pulse racing. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

You’re the first person who has ever said that to him, and in that moment, he realizes that your silence is the only silence that doesn’t feel suffocating.

You look at him with such a deep emotion that it makes him go crazy, what are you doing to him? Why do you care about him so much?

You’ve been there for him since day one. You’re so comforting so kind and so nonjudgmental.

You listen to him rant, Complain, but you don’t say anything every time.

The more he looks at you, the more his heart keeps on thumping, inside his chest and alcohol just rushes through his body, and suddenly his pants feel so achingly tight.

The silence between you both is charged with tension, a tension that makes shivers go down his spine, you’re looking at him in a way that has him hallucinating that you want to lure him in.

He just wants to drown in your embrace, feel you in a way that no one has ever, he just wants to bury himself to hilt inside of you so maybe he can feel wanted again, and maybe he will feel safe for once.

His breath hitches, and before either of you can think better of it, his lips crash into yours.

•••

The back room of the café becomes a blur of heat and desperation as you both stumble in while he’s busy, shoving his tongue on your throat. It’s not tender—it’s raw, messy, driven by an ache neither of you can name. He breaks the kiss after it feels like hours, and he dips his head low and you feel his hot wet lips on your neck, His hands are rough against your skin, his lips leaving trails of bruises along your neck.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice breaking as his hands grip your hips. It feels so fucking good. The desperation and the need is driving you insane.

You can feel his muscular body, he’s so perfect. You have dreamed of this moment for the longest time. But you never really thought that it would come true.

But as he kisses your neck, his lips burn on your skin. And that makes you realize that this is your reality. You are finally getting to live your dream.

You moan out his name again breathlessly gripping on his shoulders so tightly as he attacks your neck, whispers of his name leave your mouth, you’re getting breathless, just by him kissing your skin.

That’s how much you want him.

He doesn’t respond with words, only pulls you closer, his movements frantic. It’s as though he’s trying to drown in you, to forget everything outside of this moment.

His scent is so exotic, he’s always smelled so good whenever he’s visited the café, his son is so stronger it surrounds the whole café and right now you’re so close to him. It’s getting you high.

You know that he’s drunk, he’s so fucking drunk and vulnerable, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him, especially not when he pushes your panties down, his lips hot on your collarbones.

How can you bring yourself to stop him when he’s suddenly licking his fingers, as he takes them out you, you stare at him, they’re glistening with his Saliva.

He’s so beautiful and so handsome, and the most sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

You can only encourage him, and you do that, when he finally starts to push his two digits inside of you, your hips buck up.

You’re so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.

He scissors them inside of you, curling them inside your gummy walls, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars, immediately and he’s barely even started

“AGGH…” you moan out loudly, He groans at the sound, sinking his teeth in your neck once again, he’s so needy right now, you feel his body temperature burning.

You’re burning up too.

Jungkook whispers in your ear, “take off my boxers.”

And you do, after that you start stroking his hard thick length, he’s so big, as you stare down at it, you gasp because it’s leaking already and it’s angry.

He’s been neglected for the longest time, you actually hate his girlfriend, but good for you. You get to feel him inside you like this.

He’s hungry for this. As you finally start to do the magic of your hands, he lets out a guttural moan, it’s so loud, and it rings in your ears.

you love the sounds he’s making right now. He sounds so hot almost like an animal in heat.

But he starts fucking your hand furiously, you lift his head up from your neck to look at him and you just want to keep him with you forever

He’s so beautiful.

He’s drooling, his eyes are closed as he feels the pleasure that you are giving him, the pleasure that he’s been denied for the longest time.

“T-Thank you so much for this because you have no idea how much I need this you have no idea how much I need you… yn- ngh… I’ve been dreaming about this… how about you… and you feel so much better than my imagination”

Jungkook cannot wait anymore though, just as he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist and gently removes your hand, kisses you hard as he shoves his cock in your warm pussy.

“Let me feel your pussy, I need you, baby…” he begs, you grip his shoulders and kiss his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath once your heat cages him in.

He starts moving his hips at a really fast pace, he’s jackhammering into you, Jungkooks moaning is echoing throughout the back room.

“NGHH mhmm AHHHG…. AHHH…”

The pleasure that you’re feeling right now is the most that you’ve ever felt in your life and you never knew that you could feel this good while having sex.

The sex with him is feeling so hot, so good and so fucking raw.

He’s so big you can see it bulging from inside of you, you gasp.

“Cum… please Cum inside me.”

You press desperate kisses on his neck, and on the hollow of his throat He’s so vocal about this. So hot. And then he lets out a desperate mewl as he cums inside your cunt.

It’s hot, thick and full as he fills you up to brim.

But it’s starts leaking out because it’s so much, you can feel it running down your thighs.

“You felt a-ah… so fuckin good, yn.”

When it’s over, the two of you lie tangled together on the worn couch, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching for something he can’t find.

“You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you say softly. “Not anymore.”

But as he drifts off to sleep, your words echo in his mind, and unease curls in his chest.

•••

The first rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the cramped backroom of the café. The room is quiet, save for the sound of Jungkook's breathing. He lies awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him like a lifeline.

The memories of the night before play in his mind on an endless loop-your soft moans, the way your body had responded to his touch, how you had whispered his name like a prayer. He feels a pang of guilt, but not for what he did. He doesn't regret it. Not the way your warmth had pulled him from the cold void he'd been living in, not the way you made him forget the weight of the world for a few fleeting hours.

What eats at him is the realization that he used you-your body, your kindness, your feelings— for his own selfish needs. And yet, as much as the guilt gnaws at him, a darker truth lingers: it had felt so good. You had felt so good.

Your breathing changes, pulling him from his thoughts. You stir slightly, your fingers twitching against his chest before you lift your head to meet his gaze.

"Good morning," you say softly, your voice thick with sleep.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” he replies, his voice quieter than he intends.

You sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you adjust yourself on the edge of the couch. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what happened between you hanging in the air.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I don't know,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You bite your lip, looking down at your lap. "Last night..."

“Wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, cutting you off.

You flinch slightly but force a small smile. “I know,” you murmur.

He sighs deeply, sitting up and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't regret it,” he says finally, his voice low.

Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I don't regret being with you,” he continues, his tone softening. “But I regret... I regret that I used you. That I let my emotions... my loneliness take over. You didn't deserve that.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jungkook, you didn't use me. I wanted it too.”

He looks at you, his dark eyes filled with conflict.

“I know you did. But that doesn't make it right.”

You hold his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “It's not wrong either,” you whisper.

He exhales sharply, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I need to think," he mutters. “I need to figure out what I'm doing.”

Jungkook walks through the quiet streets, the early morning chill biting at his skin. His mind is a storm of emotions-shame, guilt, longing. He knows he should be thinking about Mina, the case, about everything that's been spiraling out of control in his life. But all he can think about is you.

You, with your soft smile and kind eyes. You, who had welcomed him without judgment. You, who had given him a moment of solace in the chaos.

He doesn't regret being with you, but he regrets what it means. He regrets how easily you've slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

And yet, even as he walks away, he knows he'll come back to you. He always does.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling the same… after he leaves you at the door as it shuts.

You sit on the couch long after Jungkook has gone, staring at the spot where he had been just minutes before. Your heart feels heavy, conflicted. Last night had been everything you'd ever wanted, but now it feels tainted by his guilt, his regret.

Still, you can't bring yourself to regret it. Not when it had felt so perfect, so right.

But as you move to the front of the café, preparing for the day ahead, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jungkook. And you're not sure if it's for better or worse.

But you do know that this was only the beginning and this is not gonna end ever and you don’t want to.

•••

A month goes by, he hasn’t visited the cafe after that night woth you, he’s started to get over Mina, The investigation starts to grow worse, the killer more mysterious than ever. Jungkook’s focus shifts entirely to the case, but the memory of that night with you lingers, a dangerous distraction. He avoids Mina entirely, his guilt toward her eclipsed by the tangled emotions he feels when he sees you.

It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.

•••

The night Jungkook slept with you still lingers in his mind, haunting him like a half-remembered dream, a moment of clarity and chaos all at once. He tells himself it was a mistake, that he was drunk, confused, and in need of something—someone—that wasn’t Mina. But he knows deep down, it was more than that. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel human again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yet, when he wakes up the next morning, reality settles back into place. He tries to push you out of his thoughts as he makes his way to work, but every time he passes by the café, he finds himself looking for you, wondering if you’re there. The guilt gnaws at him, but the emptiness inside makes him think about you again, just for a moment.

What Jungkook doesn’t know, what he can’t see, is that the girl behind the counter, the quiet barista with the warm smile, has already made up her mind. You’ve already planned it out.

Mina is your problem now.

Mina never did anything wrong. She never even knew the darkness that lurked beneath your calm exterior. To her, you were just another face behind the counter, the one who always smiled, who always gave her the right change with a soft chuckle. She was just another customer. But that was before you realized she was still with Jungkook, and that was the last straw.

Mina knows about your crush on Jungkook because, on several occasions in the past, Jungkook had brought her with him when he visited the café. It wasn’t frequent, but enough for Mina to catch on to the subtle tension that simmered between you and him.

You hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but every time Jungkook walked into the café, your demeanor shifted. You’d become a little more flustered, your heart would race, and your eyes would light up, especially when he greeted you with that easy smile. It didn’t take much for someone like Mina, who was always looking for cracks in the façade, to notice.

The first time Jungkook brought her in, you did your best to be casual, to act as though you weren’t paying any special attention to him.

But Mina, watching from across the table, saw how you seemed a little more eager, a little more careful with every cup you made for him. She observed how your voice softened when you spoke to him, how your hands trembled just slightly as you handed him his order. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out: there was something more than just friendship between you two, even if it was unspoken.

After that day, Mina started coming in more frequently when she knew Jungkook would be there.

She made a point of sitting at a table near the counter, watching the subtle interactions between you two, almost like a game. It gave her a sense of satisfaction—of control—to see how much you cared for him, how much you tried to hide it.

What really gave Mina the final piece of the puzzle was the day Jungkook brought her in again. This time, the way you interacted with him was different. You didn’t hide your feelings as well. You weren’t as guarded. Maybe you thought Jungkook had stopped noticing, that you could just be yourself around him without it being awkward, but Mina saw through it.

She watched you smile at him a little too brightly, watched how your voice softened when you said his name.

That’s when she knew. She had been right all along.

From that point forward, Mina began to play with this knowledge, poking at you, dropping little comments here and there about Jungkook. It wasn’t out of genuine interest in your well-being.

No, Mina was the type who thrived on power, on knowing things others didn’t. She knew you had feelings for Jungkook, and she wasn’t above using that against you.

Mina wasn’t a regular customer, but she made it a point to come by whenever she knew Jungkook would be there. She’d sit back, watch, and wait for you to slip up—because she knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed just how much you cared.

You watch her from the back of the café, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as she orders another coffee, laughs too loudly at something a friend says, her smile a little too bright.

You’re not the type to go unnoticed, not anymore. You’ve made sure of it. But this girl? She’s everything you’re not. Beautiful, untainted. Her life is easy—untainted by secrets or shame. But that life is a lie. And she doesn’t deserve it.

The tension builds like a slow-burning fuse as the afternoon wears on. Your hand shakes as you wipe down the counter, the hum of the coffee machine loud in your ears.

Mina doesn’t know how much you hate her. Doesn’t know that she’s the one thing standing between you and what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. Jungkook.

The thought of him with her, the way he always turns to her in the café, makes your stomach twist. You wish she’d just disappear. So, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

•••

The café is quiet as you lock up for the night.

The faint hum of the city lingers in the distance, but it doesn't reach your small sanctuary.

It's been a month since the night with Jungkook, and though he hasn't been back to the café in days, the memory of him is enough to send a shiver through your body.

You've noticed changes-small ones at first. A nauseous unease in the mornings, a fatigue that you can't shake. Tonight, though, you can't ignore the obvious anymore. Your period is late

far too late.

When you get home, you head straight for the drawer where you hid the pregnancy test. It had been an impulsive purchase a few days ago, something you hadn't wanted to face until you

absolutely had to.

The bathroom feels impossibly quiet as you take the test, sitting on the edge of the tub and waiting for the results. Seconds stretch into an eternity. When the lines appear, bold and unmistakable, the air leaves your lungs.

Your mind races. The weight of the word sinks into your chest. It's him. Jungkook. That night.

The night when everything felt like it could finally belong to you. But now, this?

Panic bubbles inside you, but it's swallowed by something darker, more visceral.

Mina's face flashes in your mind, and it's as if the pregnancy test has turned her shadow into a living, breathing entity. She's always there, always hovering around the edges of your thoughts, a reminder of what you'll never truly have.

She broke up with Jungkook that night. You've pieced that much together. She left him, but her presence still looms over you.

It's her fault you feel this way. Her fault that Jungkook can't be entirely yours.

Before you realize it, you're out the door again, the pregnancy test left abandoned on the counter. The idea takes root in your mind with terrifying clarity.

Mina's address isn't hard to find. She used to post pictures from home-soft, curated glimpses of her perfect life.

The city streets blur as you drive. Your fingers tighten on the wheel as adrenaline floods your veins.

When you pull up to her house, the world feels unnervingly still. The house is modest but exudes her curated style, clean and pristine. A pang of rage surges through you.

You knock softly at first. When there's no response, you knock louder, your fist trembling against the wood. Finally, the door opens.

Mina stands there in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair tied back, and her expression instantly hardens when she sees you.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

You don't answer. You push past her, stepping into her living room without waiting for an invitation. She whirls around, glaring at you.

“Excuse me?” Mina snaps, her hands on her hips. "You can't just barge in here-"

But you're not listening. Your focus sharpens as you glance around the room, taking in the perfection of it all. Everything she's built, everything she's taken from you without even knowing it.

“You ruined him,” you say suddenly, your voice low and trembling.

Mina freezes, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't deserve him,” you continue, stepping closer. The words spill out, raw and jagged. You never did. You threw him away.”

Mina's eyes widen, and for the first time, there's a flicker of unease in her expression. “Are you insane?” she says, backing up slightly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

But it does. It has everything to do with you.

The knife is in your pocket, cold and heavy against your palm as you pull it out. Mina's eyes go wide, and she lets out a sharp gasp.

“Y/N, stop. What are vou doing?” she says, her voice trembling now, you see fear in her eyes, and that is so satisfying

“I'm taking back what's mine,” you whisper, stepping forward.

Mina screams as you lunge, but she's fast. Her nails rake across your arm as she tries to push you away, drawing blood. The knife slips from your grasp briefly, clattering to the floor, and the two of you struggle, crashing into the coffee table.

She fights harder than you expected. Her fists hit your sides, her nails digging into your skin.

But your rage is stronger, a blinding force that drives you forward.

Finally, you grab the knife again, plunging it into her chest. The scream chokes in her throat, her hands flailing weakly as you press the blade deeper.

The fight leaves her body, her eyes glazing over as she crumples to the floor.

You stand there, panting, your body trembling with adrenaline. Blood pools around her, staining the pristine floor, and it's then you notice the streaks of red on yor wn arms.

Her nails. She scratched you.

Your breath quickens as the reality sets in. You grab a dishcloth from the kitchen, wrapping it around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

You leave quickly, your mind racing. The blood you've left behind is a risk, but it's done now.

She's gone.

As you drive away, the silence in the car feels deafening. You glance at your bandaged arm, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

It's over. She's gone.

But the faint, nagging thought of the blood you've left behind lingers in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt that you can't shake.

•••

The next day, Jungkook’s phone rings with the news. Mina’s body is found in at her home reported by the neighbors, discarded like a broken toy. The details of her murder are grisly—so much blood, so many signs of a struggle. But there’s something more. Something that gnaws at him,

He doesn’t know it yet, And Jungkook has no idea how close he is to the one thing he’s been hunting.

As he visits the scene of the crime, his heart heavy with guilt over his own sins, the truth starts to swirl around him, each clue pulling him closer to you. But you are always just one step ahead.

And you’re not finished yet.

•••

Jungkook stands at the edge of the crime scene, Mina’s home. Familiar home, his mind racing as he watches the forensic team finish their work. Mina’s body has been taken away, but something about the scene feels unfinished—unnerving. As the team packs up, the lingering sense of wrongness creeps into his chest.

He takes a few more steps into the room, his eyes scanning every inch.

The silence is heavy, thick with the smell of blood, and something else, something he can’t quite place. He feels like he’s being watched even though he’s the only one left. His gut instinct tells him there’s more to find, something hidden beneath the surface.

“Detective Jeon,” a voice calls out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Lee, the junior detective, holding a small evidence bag.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his voice tight with impatience.

“Sir,” Lee continues, stepping closer. “We found something odd in the kitchen area, near the counter. It’s fresh blood, but it doesn’t match the scene at all. It’s… different.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, different?”

Lee’s face shifts, his expression nervous. “It’s not the same consistency as the blood we’ve been seeing from the victims. It seems… newer, almost as if it wasn’t part of the original violence.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. The blood. It’s almost like the killer made a mistake. He follows Lee to the kitchen, where they find the dark stain on the floor. It’s small but unmistakable, a sharp contrast against the faded red of the rest of the scene.

He kneels down, his gloved fingers brushing the edges of the stain. The blood is darker than what they’ve seen from the victim, almost as though it’s been there for some time—but that doesn’t make sense. He knew Mina was killed just hours ago.

“Is this from the victim?” Jungkook asks, still focused on the stain.

“We don’t think so,” Lee replies, his tone uncertain. “It’s not consistent with the rest of the scene.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “It looks fresh.”

His instincts kick in. Something is off, and he knows it’s not just the stain. His gaze lingers on the blood. He needs to know more. If this is part of the same pattern, then they’re dealing with something entirely different.

“Send it to forensics,” he orders. “Get it tested immediately. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Hours pass before Jungkook finds himself in the sterile white of the forensics lab, waiting as the technician works quickly to process the blood sample they’ve retrieved from the crime scene.

He stands by, his mind on edge, feeling the pull of the unknown tightening its grip. The room is quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint clicking of keyboards as the technician runs the test.

Finally, the technician hands Jungkook a printed report. Jungkook takes it with a calmness he doesn’t feel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he scans the document.

The results are like a slap in the face.

The blood—this blood—belongs to a woman.

His chest tightens as he rereads the details. But it’s not just any woman. The test shows the presence of hormone levels consistent with early pregnancy.

A pregnant woman.

The words blur before his eyes. His mind struggles to make sense of it. Pregnant? How could it be?

This isn’t just some random woman who happened to get involved in the case. This is a pregnant woman. The kind of detail that changes everything.

He stares at the report in stunned silence. Mina’s murder doesn’t fit with any of the previous patterns, but this… this is a whole new level of complexity. And, despite his growing confusion, Jungkook can’t shake the nagging thought that the killer might be someone unexpected—someone who’s been hiding in plain sight.

Jungkook’s mind races as he pieces everything together. The fact that the blood belongs to a pregnant woman is huge. It feels like a lead that could take him in an entirely new direction, but there’s something else gnawing at him. A suspicion he can’t quite shake.

It’s the note he found on Mina’s body. The strange connection between the killings. Every victim has had a twisted background, all male, all with histories of violence or crime. But Mina… she was an exception. A woman. And she wasn’t involved in the same kind of criminal activity.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right. He’s seen this before—when his intuition is pushing him toward an answer, even when he doesn’t have all the pieces. And now, with this new revelation about the blood, that nagging feeling is only growing stronger.

Could the killer be a woman? Could the killer be pregnant? The thought unsettles him, but it makes sense. Perhaps this is the killer’s twist—targeting those who have wronged others, who’ve hurt people in the most vicious ways, while hiding behind a carefully crafted disguise.

As he stands there, staring at the test results, a chilling realization slowly begins to creep in. He hasn’t even begun to connect the dots. He hasn’t yet put it all together.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the one thing that’s been staring him in the face all along: someone close to him could be hiding this terrible secret.

But he doesn’t know who that is yet.

The blood. The pregnancy. The mysterious nature of Mina’s death—everything points to a killer who’s been hidden from view. Someone who’s not just playing a part in this sick game but is actively controlling the strings.

Jungkook takes one last look at the report in his hand. The piece of paper seems to burn with the weight of its revelation.

“Pregnant,” he mutters under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Who could it be?”

Jungkook’s thoughts are muddled. He hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone he knows could be involved. But the facts keep leading him in that direction.

With every passing second, the answer feels closer, yet farther away. All Jungkook knows for certain is that this case is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

And the killer is closer than he thinks.

•••

That night? he decides to visit his favorite coffee place again

The café is dimly lit, the warm golden glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the empty tables. It’s late—well past closing time for most places—but you’re still here. You’ve started staying later than usual, lingering in the quiet of your sanctuary, unable to go home to the lingering guilt of what you’ve done.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimes. The sound startles you, breaking through the silence. When you look up, it’s him.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. It’s been a month since that night, and he hasn’t been back since. Seeing him now feels like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“Jungkook,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You’re here again after a long time..”

He offers a small, tired smile as he steps inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I know it’s late… but are you still making coffee?”

You nod quickly, trying to push down the rising emotions threatening to choke you. “Of course. For you? Always.”

He sits at his usual spot near the counter, leaning back in the chair as he watches you move around the machine. The silence between you is thick, weighted with everything unsaid.

As you hand him the cup, his fingers brush against yours. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. He takes a sip, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft sigh.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the counter for support. You’ve been rehearsing this in your head for days, but now, with him sitting there, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. He sets the cup down slowly, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together what you just said.

“What?” he says finally, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

You swallow hard, nodding. “It’s yours, Jungkook. From that night.”

His breath hitches, and he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Pregnant,” he repeats, almost to himself. The weight of the revelation sinks in, his eyes flicking to your stomach before meeting your gaze again.

“That’s… that’s a lot to process,” he says finally, his tone careful.

“But.. promise that I won’t abandon you… I will take full responsibility.. don’t worry… I’m so sorry”

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—when his gaze drops to your arm. His brows knit together as he notices the faint, raw scratches peeking out from beneath your sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, his tone shifting, more alert now.

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. You pull your sleeve down instinctively, hiding the marks. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly.

He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. “Those look fresh,” he says, his voice sharp. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” you say firmly, forcing a laugh. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to read the truth in your expression.

“Y/N,” he says finally, his voice soft but insistent. “If something’s going on, you need to tell me.”

You shake your head, plastering on a smile that feels more like a mask. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry.”

But he doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t press further, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, awkward. He finishes his coffee quickly, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“I should go,” he says finally, standing up and sliding the cup toward you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You nod, forcing a smile as you watch him leave. The door swings shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You lean against the counter, your legs trembling beneath you. The scratches on your arm burn as if in reminder. You knew this moment would come, but now that it has, you feel the weight of everything crashing down around you.

He doesn’t suspect you—not yet. But the way he looked at you, the questions he asked… it’s only a matter of time.

•••

Jungkook sits at his desk in the dimly lit precinct, the case file for Mina’s murder spread out before him. His mind is a storm, every detail looping back to the one piece of evidence he can’t shake—the fresh blood at the crime scene, identified as belonging to a pregnant woman.

He had brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was some unknown accomplice or a bizarre twist in the killer’s pattern. But now, after his late-night visit to the café, everything feels like it’s coming together in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

His hands clench into fists as he remembers Y/N’s confession.

And then there were the scratches.

They’d looked raw, fresh—exactly like the kind of defensive wounds a victim might leave behind. He tries to dismiss the thought. It’s Y/N, he tells himself. Sweet, shy Y/N, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But the evidence won’t let him go.

The blood. The scratches. Her sudden nervousness, the way she pulled her sleeve down, the way she avoided his eyes when he asked her about it.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. But as an inspector, he knows he can’t ignore the signs.

He flips through the photos from the crime scene, his eyes lingering on the smear of blood leading away from Mina’s body. The forensic team had confirmed it didn’t belong to Mina, and it wasn’t old enough to have been left by anyone else.

It had to be the killer’s.

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with conflicting thoughts—his duty to the case, his growing feelings for Y/N, and the sickening possibility that they might be connected in ways he can’t yet comprehend.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from across the room, breaking his train of thought. “Anything new?”

Jungkook shakes his head, snapping the file shut. “No,” he lies. “Still piecing it together.”

But inside, he knows he can’t ignore this.

The next night, Jungkook finds himself back at the café. It’s late again, and the streets are quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. He tells himself he’s just here for coffee, to clear his head. But deep down, he knows that’s not true.

Y/N is behind the counter, her movements slower than usual, as if weighed down by something unseen. She startles when she sees him walk in, her eyes wide, but she quickly masks it with a smile.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

He nods, offering a small smile of his own. “Couldn’t stay away. You make the best coffee, remember?”

She laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He watches her closely as she moves, noticing the way she avoids his gaze, the way she keeps her sleeves tugged down over her wrists.

When she sets the cup in front of him, he doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady but probing.

She looks up at him, her smile faltering. “Yeah?”

“You never told me how you got those scratches,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Her breath catches, and he sees the flicker of panic in her expression before she quickly masks it. “I told you,” she says lightly. “I’m clumsy.”

“Clumsy enough to leave marks like that?” he presses, his gaze unrelenting.

Her hands tremble slightly as she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter. “Why are you asking?” she says, her tone defensive.

He leans back, his jaw tightening. “Just curious. You know, with everything going on… people getting hurt. Makes me worry.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus fixed on the counter. The tension between them is thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook isn’t convinced. Every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, that she’s hiding something. And yet, despite everything, a part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

“Okay,” he says finally, his tone softening. “If you say so.”

But as he leaves the café that night, the weight of his suspicions feels heavier than ever. The blood, the scratches, her nervousness—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore.

Jungkook walks slowly back to his car, his mind swirling with thoughts he doesn’t want to entertain. He stops just short of the driver’s seat, leaning against the door and staring at the dark street ahead.

The Y/N he knows—the one he’s been drawn to, the one who seemed so kind, so unassuming—couldn’t possibly be capable of this. Could she?

He slams his fist lightly against the roof of the car, frustration boiling under his skin. He doesn’t want to doubt her. But the evidence doesn’t lie.

That same night, Jungkook decides to dive deeper into the case. He returns to the precinct and retrieves the forensic report on the blood found at Mina’s home. He’s read it before, but now, with fresh eyes, he scans the details again.

The report confirms it: the blood belongs to a pregnant woman. The realization sends a chill down his spine.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in as he tries to piece it all together. The killer had left no other trace—no prints, no DNA—just this blood. It was careless, uncharacteristic of someone who had been so meticulous with the other murders.

Why now? he wonders.

The connection feels tenuous at best, but the scratches on Y/N’s arm flash in his mind again, and he can’t ignore the unease building in his chest.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re still here? Go home, man. You’ve been at this for weeks.”

Jungkook forces a nod, shutting the file and grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’m going,” he mutters.

But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he drives back to Mina’s house, parking a short distance away and stepping out into the cold night. The crime scene has long since been cleared, but he needs to see it again, needs to feel it.

The house looms dark and silent, a grim reminder of what had happened within its walls. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as he shines his flashlight across the ground.

And then he sees it—a faint stain on the walkway leading away from the house.

His heart pounds as he kneels down, pulling on gloves and carefully swabbing the dried blood. It’s faint but fresh enough to have gone unnoticed during the initial sweep.

He stands, staring at the swab in his hand. It could be nothing, a stray smear left behind by someone from the forensics team. But it could also be something.

Someone.

As he slips the evidence into a bag, his mind circles back to Y/N. The scratches. Her sudden announcement. The way she seemed so on edge, so unlike herself.

The thought makes his stomach twist painfully. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the pieces are falling into place, and the picture they’re forming is one he can’t ignore.

He gets back into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His next steps are clear: have the blood tested again, cross-reference it, and get answers.

But for now, he sits in the dark, staring out at the empty street,

Caught between his duty as an inspector and the growing fear that the woman he’s falling for might be the one he’s been chasing all along.

•••

It’s been days since Jungkook swabbed the blood at Mina’s crime scene. Days of sleepless nights, staring at reports, running DNA tests, and trying to ignore the tightening noose of suspicion around Y/N.

The results came back that morning. The blood is a match. A match for the mysterious pregnant killer. A match for Y/N, You.

The words on the report burn into his mind, but he can’t bring himself to process them fully. Instead, he spends hours driving aimlessly through Seodaemun-gu, circling back to the café before stopping outside Y/N’s small apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, or do. The woman he’s fallen for—who is carrying his child—has killed at least eighteen people, including Mina. But the thought of turning you in feels like a betrayal he’s incapable of.

Jungkook climbs the steps to your door, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure you’ll hear it the moment he knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Y/N’s face lights up in surprise. “Jungkook,” you say softly, but there’s a tension in your voice, as if you’ve been expecting this moment.

He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything that might confirm what he already knows.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, your voice low. You move to the small kitchen, your movements stiff.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your back to him, her hand resting on the counter. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead stepping closer. “You already know what.”

Y/N turns to face him, Your expression guarded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jungkook.”

“Don’t,” he says, his tone sharper than he intends. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, Y/N. About Mina. About all of it.”

Your face pales, and for a moment, you doesn’t respond. Then you cross your arms, your gaze steady but wary. “You’re mistaken,” you say evenly.

“I’m not,” he replies. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the forensic report, dropping it onto the table. “This is your blood. At Mina’s house. You were there.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and you looks down at the report, your hands trembling. “It’s not what you think,” you whisper,

“Then tell me what it is!” His voice rises, the frustration and desperation spilling out. “Because the evidence says you killed her, Y/N. It says you’ve killed all of them.”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steps back, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady herself. “I did it,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. “But they deserved it, Jungkook. Every single one of them.”

He stares at her, the weight of her confession hitting him like a freight train. “Mina didn’t deserve it,” he says, his voice hollow.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “She broke you, Jungkook. She hurt you. And I couldn’t—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “You had no right!”

Silence falls between them, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to defend herself further.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, his thoughts spiraling. He knows what he should do—what his duty demands. But when he looks at her, at the woman carrying his child, he feels nothing but agony.

“I’m pregnant,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“SERIOUSLY YN What the fuck have you done? I fell in love with a psychotic killer. FUCK!”

She flinches at his tone, her tears falling harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just, I couldn’t let them keep hurting people. I couldn’t let her keep hurting you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, her words tearing through him. When he finally looks at her again, his expression is unreadable. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice quiet but laced with pain.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’ve destroyed everything,” he says, his voice breaking.

She sobs, collapsing into a chair. “I didn’t mean to destroy you, Jungkook. I—”

“You didn’t destroy me,” he cuts her off, his tone icy. “You destroyed us.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words suffocating them both.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hollow. “I can’t turn you in, Y/N. I should, but I can’t. Because I—” He stops himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. “But I need you to know that what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”

She looks up at him, her tear-streaked face full of anguish. “Then what happens now?”

Jungkook stares at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving her alone with her guilt and the devastating weight of what she’s done.

•••

He takes a lot of Days to think about what he’s gonna do next, the truth is that he’s fallen too deeply in love with you to turn you in especially since he found out that you’re pregnant and as fucked up as it sounds, but the way you confessed to him that you killed Mina because she had hurt him,

It switched something inside him.. no one has ever gone that far for him.

You’re expecting his child

He has to do something to save you. He cannot turn you in no matter what.

So he decides to do something, a week later.

Jungkook sits alone in his car, parked a block away from the station. The stack of case files sits on the passenger seat, the details of eighteen brutal murders outlined in gruesome detail. At the top of the stack is Mina’s file.

The weight of what he’s about to do crushes his chest, but he’s made his decision.

If you go down, you take his child with you. You take him with you.

He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s always been a by-the-book cop, but the moment he fell for Y/N, that part of him started to crumble. Now, he’s about to destroy what’s left of it.

He enters the station with confidence and a mask.

The precinct buzzes with energy as Jungkook walks in, the familiar hum of chatter and clacking keyboards filling the air. His partner, Detective Choi, greets him with a nod.

“Got something for me, Jeon?” Choi asks, leaning back in his chair.

Jungkook sets the files down on his desk, forcing a calm expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been looking into a lead.”

Choi raises an eyebrow. “A lead? We’ve been spinning our wheels on this for months. What kind of lead?”

Jungkook opens Mina’s file, pulling out the report he fabricated the night before. He had spent hours doctoring evidence, crafting a story that would absolve Y/N of suspicion.

“This,” he says, handing the report to Choi.

Choi scans the document, his expression shifting from skepticism to curiosity. “A drug connection?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies smoothly. “I traced the source of the drug found in all the victims to a trafficking ring operating out of Incheon. It’s messy, but I think one of their enforcers is responsible for the killings.”

Choi frowns, flipping through the pages. “An enforcer who kills eighteen people, including Mina, and just disappears?”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook says, leaning in. “I think they’ve already been eliminated. Internal cleaning. It explains why the killings stopped after Mina’s case.”

It’s a bold lie, but Jungkook delivers it with conviction, weaving in just enough plausible details to make it stick. He knows Choi is sharp, but he also knows his partner is tired of this case. They all are.

Choi nods slowly, handing the report back. “It’s a stretch, but it tracks. You’re saying we close this case on the assumption the killer’s dead?”

Jungkook shrugs, feigning indifference. “Unless you’ve got a better lead, I don’t see another option. The evidence lines up. It’s messy, but it fits.”

Choi exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Fine. I’ll run it by the chief.”

•••

The reaction is mixed. Some detectives are relieved to put the case behind them, satisfied with Jungkook’s explanation. Others grumble about loose ends and unanswered questions, but no one presses too hard.

“Good work, Jeon,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been on this for months. Go home. Get some rest.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, chief.”

As he walks out of the precinct, he feels the weight of his actions settle over him. He’s betrayed his badge, his oath, and every victim in this case.

But he’s saved you.

But there’s still a lot of loose ends that he needs to tie up, especially to convince his department that the pregnant woman was a pawn.

He needs to do something really convincing, and soon because time is running out.

•••

After a lot of days later, you’re almost now almost two pregnant, Jungkook hasn’t visited you after that confrontation and you think that maybe he’s abandoned you and maybe he’s gonna arrest you but you’re ready to pay for your sins.

You know what you were getting into when you decided to do this and you don’t regret killing any one of them.

Especially not Mina

Only if you had any idea… about what is happening around you…

The apartment is quiet when Jungkook arrives. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that comes from unsaid words, from everything that’s been building up for weeks, months even.

He’s been here before, countless times, but tonight feels different. It’s as if the weight of everything that’s happened has finally caught up to him. The lies. The murder. The twisted love you’ve both been hiding from.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in, a cup of cold coffee in front of you, untouched. The dim light casts long shadows across your face,

making you look almost ethereal, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t know whether it’s the guilt or the truth that lingers between you both, but it’s there. It’s palpable.

You don’t stand up when he enters. You don’t even look at him at first. Instead, your fingers trace the rim of the cup absentmindedly, like you’re lost in thought, deciding what to say. Or maybe deciding if you should say anything at all.

“You’re here,” you say finally, your voice quiet, almost resigned. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

Jungkook closes the door behind him, his breath heavy. The sight of you is almost too much to bear.

He feels the pull, the urgency of everything that’s been building up since that night at the café. But there’s something else too. Something darker. The guilt. The secret he’s been keeping. The knowledge that he’s closing his eyes to the truth.

“I had to,” he replies, his voice hoarse. His eyes move to you, scanning your face, trying to find the woman he once thought he understood, the one who wasn’t a murderer. But now, nothing seems as simple as it once did.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, he sees it. The crack in your facade. The vulnerability that you’ve been hiding. But it’s fleeting. Quickly masked by that cold, calculating expression he’s learned to fear.

“You did what you had to?” you echo, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Funny. I didn’t know I was something you had to protect.”

Your stomach twists, guilt washing over you as you feel the weight of your words. The truth that he’s been avoiding hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t want to…,” he starts, his words faltering. “I didn’t want any of this. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after everything.”

You smile, but it’s not a smile at all. It’s a mask. A shield you’ve put up, but he sees through it. Just like he’s starting to see through everything you’ve done.

“Why didn’t you let me go, Jungkook?” you ask, standing slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You take a step toward him, the space between you narrowing with every heartbeat. “Because of your guilt? Or because you want me? Because you want us?”

Jungkook feels the heat rising in his chest, his body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wants to deny it, wants to tell you that it’s not like that, but the truth is too raw to ignore. He’s in too deep. He’s in love with you.

“I…” he hesitates, struggling with the words that seem impossible to say. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N. But I want you. More than anything.”

The words hang in the air between you both, thick with tension. You step closer, the space between you vanishing entirely. Your breath is warm against his skin as you raise a hand to his chest, tracing a line down to the hem of his shirt.

“Then why do you keep pretending like this is all just a mistake?” Your voice is soft now, a little breathless, but there’s something in it that makes his heart race even faster. “You know what I’ve done. You know the truth. So why are we still playing this game?”

His chest tightens as he stares into your eyes, the question echoing in his mind. Why are we still playing this game?

He’s already crossed too many lines, already made choices that can’t be undone. He’s in love with you, and that’s the only truth he can hold onto right now. But the guilt, the knowledge of what you’ve done—it’s suffocating him.

“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve already made my choice. And it’s you.”

You look at him, your gaze calculating, but something flickers in your eyes. Relief? Or is it something darker? He can’t tell anymore.

“You don’t have to choose between me and the truth, Jungkook,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re inches apart. “The truth is… we belong together. In everything we’ve done. In everything we’ll do.”

The words send a shiver through him. There’s no going back now. He knows it. You know it.

His hands reach for you, pulling you into him, and your lips meet in a kiss that is desperate and consuming. He’s not thinking anymore. He’s not questioning. He’s just here, with you, drowning in everything that’s pulled you both together.

When you finally break apart, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes dark with something he can’t quite place.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he says, his voice hoarse, the words pouring out of him without thought.

“I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing against his neck. “And I’ll do anything for you too. But we have to be honest with each other now. No more lies.”

He nods, the weight of your words sinking into his bones. There’s no turning back now. “Jungkook.. you know it was a big skill investigation rate. How did you even convince your department to close the case tell me what did you do.”

He looks at you and smiles

He’s made his choice.

“Okay fine I will tell you.”

The investigation was closing in, and with each passing day, the walls seemed to close in tighter around Jungkook. The blood—so carefully planted at Mina’s crime scene—was becoming a ticking time bomb, and the pressure to keep Y/N safe weighed heavily on him. His heart hammered in his chest every time the case came up in discussion, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.

He needed to shut it all down. Permanently.

That’s when it hit him: a recently discovered body in a nearby district. A woman—pregnant, recently deceased, and conveniently found under suspicious circumstances. She wasn’t the killer, but to Jungkook, she might as well have been. He could use her to frame the entire investigation.

When Jungkook visited the morgue that night, the body lay still on the cold steel table, a haunting reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The woman had died under mysterious circumstances, no clear motive, no clear suspect. And with her pregnancy, she was the perfect pawn.

Jungkook’s mind raced as he walked around the body, his eyes lingering on her swollen belly, her pale face, the indistinct bruises on her skin that told a story he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, the ghost of guilt flickering behind his thoughts. But there was no time for hesitation. He needed this body.

In his mind, he already had a plan.

He would stage the scene, make it look like this woman was the killer. He’d plant evidence that suggested the woman had been linked to Mina’s death—trace amounts of blood, a few fingerprints in the wrong places. A well-placed piece of clothing or object to tie her to the scene. It was risky, but it was the only way to close the case without implicating Y/N.

The morgue attendant, a sleepy-eyed man who didn’t seem to care much for the dead, handed him the body without question. Jungkook took a deep breath, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He carefully moved the body, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Hours later, the police were called to a new crime scene. It was the same as always—an empty alleyway with the body of a woman found in a position that suggested something far darker than a random attack. The crime scene looked eerily similar to the previous murders, and that’s exactly what Jungkook had hoped for.

His mind worked quickly, placing the body of the pregnant woman at the scene as though she had been the one to kill Mina. The blood trail leading away from her. A few well-placed items. The evidence was there, but just subtle enough to make it believable.

The next day, Jungkook presented the findings to the department. His colleagues seemed to buy it without much question.

The body of the pregnant woman, found near the alley where Mina had been murdered, in her own home, was identified as the suspect. The evidence—though still sparse—was enough to back up the theory he had fabricated.

“I’ve spoken with forensics,” Jungkook said, standing tall as the room buzzed with suspicion. “The blood found near Mina’s body and the scene where this woman was found confirms our theory. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly involved. And she was pregnant, which explains her connection to the killer we’ve been hunting.”

The room fell silent, the officers looking at each other in confusion. But Jungkook pressed on, pushing the narrative with an authoritative tone.

“She was part of the criminal network, no doubt. This is why the killer used her. She was a pawn, an expendable figure, dragged into something much larger.”

“But with her death, we’ve finally identified her role. She’s the one we were after.”

Jungkook’s voice was steady, rehearsed, convincing. He wasn’t just presenting evidence; he was weaving the story.

One of the officers, a sharp-eyed veteran named Park, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Jeon? This all seems… too neat. A little too perfect.”

Jungkook took a breath, pushing his doubts aside. “We have to tie it up. The evidence is there. It explains everything. And it leads us to believe that the killer is someone who knew how to manipulate the situation. A pregnant woman was used to distract us from the true killer.”

He met Park’s gaze, holding it long enough to send the message. There was no going back now. He had to make this work.

•••

After a lot of deliberation, and no further suspicions or clues, Jungkooks lie worked

But there were too many questions now. How far could he go before his lies caught up to him? Would the department ever suspect him, even if they’d closed the case?

And most importantly, how much longer could he keep this secret—his secret—hidden from everyone, especially from Y/N?

With the department’s approval, Jungkook walked away from the case, his mind heavy with the weight of the lies he’d told. But as whenever he looked at Y/N, the mother of his child, he knew that no matter what it took, he would do whatever it took to keep her from being discovered.

The announcement came in later that day: Case #178-C, the Seodaemun Serial Killings, officially closed.

The case was officially closed. The department was satisfied, the investigation wrapped up, and the media was ready to move on to the next headline. Jungkook, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. He had used the body of a pregnant woman, a victim in her own right, to save Y/N—and his own conscience.

And now you two, will be together forever, and it will be your own heaven where no one will ever disturb you both and your growing family.

Everything is fair in love and war after to all

And this was both.

The love stored in his heart and the war of his own conscious, and eventually the love for you and his heart lawn over the war in his conscious.

“So you see, yn? Start packing your bags. You’re moving in with me and we’re gonna get married and have a child and live happily ever after.”

He stares at you with a lot of love in his eyes, but there’s something darker and you recognize it because it’s such a familiar look

A look that you often saw in your own mirror.

You kiss him again and smile against his lips.

You will do anything for him and you know now that he will also do anything for you.

Everything was worth it.

He was always worth it.

And he knows for a fact that you’re always gonna be worth it

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