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ahsxual · 8 months

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Hello lovely!! I have read all of your stories to do with Matthew Lillard and OMFG I love them sooooo I thought to request one myself. :D

I was thinking a Stu Macher x Fem!Reader who is Billy younger or twin sister (idk it’s up to you on that darling) who he is very positive of and has told Stu not to ever think about getting with her, one day Stu goes over there to hang out with Billy but had gone out with Sydney so Y/N answered the door and just tells him come in and they can watch a movie as they waited for Bill to come home, one thing leads to another and they end up in Y/N’s bedroom…..

Thank you for reading this request and I hope you are having a great Day/Night!

Don't Tell My Brother About Us

Warnings: +18 content, Cocky Stu, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus

Word Count: 2,7k

A/N: Tysm for requesting this, dear anon! I loved your idea and I really hope you like this❣️I also appreciate the fact that you like my writing 🥺🤗 I'm actually proud of this fic, I'm just gonna say that ;)

You knew Stu Macher from high school, since he was your twin brother's bestfriend. You even tried to join his friend group after a while since they all seemed so nice and fun, yet your attempts were declined by your sibling, for much to your chagrin, because Stu was constantly bothering your brother by making flirty jokes whenever you were with them, according to Billy. Even though you didn't like the fact that your brother wanted to keep you away from Stu, you couldn't help but feel delighted to acknowledge the real reason behind it.

Stu became your crush from the moment you met him, as his energetic, extroverted and cocky personality traits never ceased to charm you. He was incredibly fun to be with and as you hated feeling bored, you thought that would be impossible if you ever stayed with Stu. Those thoughts were obviously put aside the moment Billy noticed how you and Stu looked at each other. Billy had never seen you as amused and happy with a guy as you were with Stu, your eyes so bright that he was convinced the words sadness and boredom were no longer known to you. However, that wasn't enough to convince Billy that Stu was good for you, and that was the reason you drifted away from him: although he made your days brighter and vice-versa, Billy didn't lose his overprotective sibling attitude, always keeping an eye on his "sweet and innocent" sister.

.............................................................................................................................

"I'm going out with Sidney." Billy told you, while you were reading a romance book on the sofa about a serial killer who fell in love with one of his victims. When your brother said he was going out on a date with his girlfriend, you simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if you didn't believe there were any genuine romantic intentions in what he had just said. "What?" he sounded annoyed by your judgmental gaze.

"Hm I don't know, you don't seem very excited about it. It looks like you don't even have true feelings for the girl." your tone was confident and assertive, since you knew your twin brother all too well. He just rolled his eyes at your comment, not wanting to admit you were right.

"Just cut it out, ok? As if you know what real love feels like, anyway." annoyance was present in his voice as he searched for his house keys.

"As if my lovely brother allows me to know what real love feels like." you simply replied, not moving your eyes from your current favorite book. Although you weren't looking at him, you could tell Billy's gaze on you could kill if you stared back.

"Y/N, we've talk about this. I'm not gonna let you be with Stu, you got that? I know him better than you, so listen to me for once and stop being such a brat." at this, it was your turn to roll your eyes, before getting up from the couch and heading to your room.

"Whatever Billy, enjoy your lovely date." you intentionally made an annoying tone at the word "lovely", which made Billy even more pissed by your behavior.

"I'll be back in two hours. Don't even think about inviting Stu over. I'm dead serious, Y/N." and with a final warning followed by a death stare, he closed the door to go out with his girlfriend that he pretended to be in love with for whatever reason.

You never understood why Billy was so overprotective over you when it came to Stu. Did he know something you didn't? Was Stu somehow dangerous or would he break your heart into a million pieces? Even if that was the main reason, honestly you didn't mind finding out for yourself if it meant you could be with Stu sexually or even romantically.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't concentrate on your novel after that conversation with your brother. Those questions couldn't leave your mind either, so you decided to use your free time to take care of yourself and get a proper treatment. You went to the bathroom to turn on the hot water, wanting nothing more than to relax after a long day of school. The water felt incredible on your skin, making you moan at the peaceful feeling. After a few minutes, you looked down at your legs and thought you'd better shave them as well as your pubic hair, since you wanted your skin to feel clean and smooth. Once you had finished, you put on a face mask before applying a body cream to your body. It felt so refreshing, as your worries and personal problems temporarily disappeared and were replaced by the feeling of pretending to be treated like a princess. You had so much fun on taking care of yourself and helping you raise your self-esteem that you almost didn't hear the doorbell ring. Why is Billy back already? And why did he ring the doorbell if you saw him take his house keys before he left? You quickly put on your cutest pajamas, since you were taking your princess treatment seriously, and ran to the door. You knew it was dangerous to open the door without checking who it was first, however you were expecting Billy, so you didn't pay much attention to it.

"Stu? What are you doing here?" you frowned as your eyes widened in disbelief, immediately feeling your cheeks turn red, because Stu was seeing you in your pajamas for the first time. Perhaps you should have checked who it was before opening the door so confidently, you noted mentally.

"Oh hey, Y/N! I didn't expect you to open the door. Not that I mind, you look really cute. Where's your brother?" you felt his big blue eyes on you, clearly checking you out as he looked you up and down. He also complimented you as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, probably having no idea of how hysterical it made you feel inside. After that, he walked past you as if he felt he had the right to enter your house without waiting for your permission.

"Uh... Billy didn't tell you? He left with Sid like half an hour ago. You should come back later or call him instead if you want to talk to him." you tried to say the right words so that Stu would get the message that he had to leave, since you didn't want to upset your brother and go against his word. However, deep down, if you listened to your needs, you wanted nothing more than to stay with Stu and enjoy his company, allowing yourself to get to know him better without being pressured into making small talk with him.

"Nahh it's cool, I can wait here. Wanna watch a movie? There's this crazy horror movie that came out recently and I really wanna watch it! Since Billy is not here, we could watch it together, what do you say?" his enthusiasm and energy were something you'd never seen before, and you found it very ironic and funny that he was the complete opposite of Billy, yet they managed to have such a deep and strong friendship. You were left speechless, knowing that your plan to convince Stu to leave your house before your brother got back went down the drain.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan." you answered, trying not to sound too excited about the idea of watching a movie with him and finally being able to be close to him and having some time alone with him as well.

"That's my girl! Where's the popcorn?" he asked casually, as he headed towards the pantry since he already knew yours and Billy's house like the back of his hand. What was he trying to do?? Drive you crazy with his constant compliments and flirting? Without needing your help, he picked a big bowl of popcorn that you had bought for yourself a few days ago and sat down on the sofa, using the tv remote to put on the movie he had chosen all by himself without giving you a chance to suggest any other ideas.

You stood paralyzed in the middle of the living room, still not processing that Stu was right in front of you waiting for you to join him... in your own house... alone.

"Are you gonna sit here with me or do I have to lift you up and make you sit on my lap instead?" his eyes were on you again, while an evident smirk was plastered on his handsome face. Oh God, he's definitely trying to drive you insane. It was then that you managed to move from where you were standing, walking slowly towards him. As soon as you sat down by his side, trying to keep some distance between the two of you so you could control yourself, you decided to speak.

"Look, Stu. I'd really enjoy to watch a movie with you, but you know damn well that if Billy finds us, he will-" as soon as you mentioned your brother's name, Stu immediately rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"Come on Y/N, don't be like that! Billy is not here and if we want to be with each other, why should I stay away from you? It's not like I'm gonna jump on you and force you to have sex with me or something. I mean, unless you want me to." he laughed as if the whole thing was a joke to him, like he didn't understand the risks and the trouble you could both get into. He never took anything seriously and sometimes you wished you could be more like him. You blushed instantly at his shameless confession and your heart skipped a beat. Did he just admit he wanted to have sex with you as much as you did? When he saw your face, he started laughing exaggeratedly, obviously proud of himself for leaving you speechless and very shy with just a few words.

"My brother can't know you're here with me. Stu, I'm serious..." you didn't know what to say or how to react. The only thing you knew was that you weren't wearing panties and your pajama shorts were already wet.

"Oh really? Because I bet if I touched you right now, my fingers would be soaked." this time, his face was dead serious, his pupils dilated with lust and his intense eyes not leaving yours for even a second.

Your breathing was heavy by now, not wanting to give Stu the satisfaction of discovering how much you craved him. Without any warning, Stu grabbed your thigh and pulled you closer to him, surprising you with his unexpected strength. With his free hand, he easily moved the thin fabric of your pajama shorts and touched your bare cunt, proving his suspicions right. His long, slim fingers traced the drenched lips of your pussy, collecting your juices before circling your clit lightly. His teasing made you gasp and moan unintentionally so you bit your lips, forbidding yourself to let any more erotic sounds escape from your throat. He then brought his wet fingers into your vision, showing you how soaked you were for him with so little, as if you didn't already know. You felt extremely embarrassed at the sight displayed in front of you that Stu forced you to see, before a broad smile appeared on his face filled with pride. He eagerly took them into his mouth, moaning and sucking your cum off his fingers like it was the most delicious honey he had ever tasted in his life.

"Holy shit, I didn't know you tasted this good. Looks like I was right! My intuition never fails me, baby. You even shaved for me... looks like you knew this was gonna happen after all." he confessed with a big grin on his lips. You stood there with your legs slightly spread, not knowing whether to kiss him now and make your dreams come true or wait for his next move. Just as you were about to gather the courage to devour him, he was quicker and spoke first. "Now, let's watch this movie before that asshole returns home." and just like that, he pressed the play button and started the movie while eating popcorn as if nothing had happened.

You felt extremely annoyed and mad at him. How could he do this to you, only to stop his teasing and pretend that nothing had happened? How could he have so much self-control? Obviously, you couldn't focus on the movie, so you just enjoyed the sweet taste of the popcorn while trying your best, yet in vain, to extinguish the fire that was lit inside you. Twenty minutes into the movie, there wasn't as much action as you'd expect, which annoyed you and Stu as well. You almost missed how his eyes remained fixed on you, a smirk returning to his face with the intention of putting an end to what he had begun for good. You felt his right arm around you, after he had slowly approached you, as he whispered in you ear.

"I really enjoyed seeing you all frustrated because of me, but I promise you I'm not a selfish guy. I want to see my girl satisfied, even tho I like to tease you a bit. Come here, let me help you finish what I started." he said before getting up from the couch, offering his hand for you to take. You couldn't contain your excitement, so you rolled your eyes at him playfully and smiled excitedly, leading him to your room.

When you got there, he wasted no time and pushed you against the wall while kissing you feverishly, as if he needed to kiss you in order to survive. Your tongues and lips moved against each other as you fought for dominance, saliva spreading all over your chin and lips as he moved to your neck to give you visible love bites. You knew you'd have to cover that up later, but right now you didn't give a damn as you craved his possessive marks on you. You felt his hard cock against your core, rubbing against you to relieve some tension from both of you, and you could tell by its size that he was big. He quickly undressed you completely while he stripped only his shirt, enjoying your desperate look to see him fully naked too.

"Don't worry baby, you'll get to see my cock soon. Wait until it's inside you." he teased once again, before pushing you onto your bed, climbing up and grabbing your thighs close to his. He stared at your body as if it was the first time he'd seen a woman's naked body, as his lips salivated from hunger and desire. "Fuck, I knew you'd be beautiful naked, but nothing prepared me for seeing this gorgeousness all spread and wet for me." before you could react, you felt Stu kissing, sucking and biting your thighs to tease you a little longer, yet he quickly gave up on that idea and pressed his warm tongue against your throbbing clit.

To say that you moaned loudly was an understatement, as you screamed at the contact of his tongue on you while you clung to the soft sheets onto your dear life. He began eating you out like a mad man, alternating between sucking your clit and fucking your needy hole with his long tongue. You could tell he was skilled at oral sex, since it was the best you'd ever received and he made you cum in less than five minutes. Maybe you were ridiculously horny and turned on by him? Undoubtedly, yet his oral sex skills made everything better and much more intense. After that, he didn't stop his assaults on your overstimulated pussy, even if you begged him to. He made you cum a second time, but this time with his long fingers curled deep inside you. You felt like you were in heaven, as he gave you the most intense orgasm you had ever had in your entire life. You moaned like a porn star, unable to contain yourself, before you heard your front door slam shut.

You immediately leaned up on your elbows as you looked at Stu, who had an "oh fuck, we're screwed" expression on his face, accompanied by a contained laugh.

Indeed, you were both definitely screwed.

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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Untouchable X - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: smut and fluff, pure fluff

Author’s note: omfg guyssss, I can’t believe this series has come to an end! I had so much fun writing it and I hope y’all had just as much fun reading it! Thanks for all the love and support you guys have given me throughout it all! Hope this is a fitting ending!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part X: The Finale

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“Are you sure about this?”

You looked at Azriel, at the vulnerability in his warm hazel eyes, at the love and adoration they held but the lingering insecurity dampened it just enough that you turned to him fully.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Azriel,” you whispered, gently.

“I just don’t want you to feel rushed,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to make this decision before you’re ready. I’ve waited five hundred years for you, I can wait more. I can wait until the sun and moon collide, princess, as long as you’ll be mine in the end.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You were standing outside the doors that would lead to the Priestess’ chapel. Just a few steps away from being mated—from being tied together for all of eternity.

“I’ve waited enough. We’ve waited enough,” you replied. “I want this, Azriel. I want you. I can scream it from the rooftops if you wish. Nothing will change my mind about you.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “Okay, okay. Then, let’s not keep the Priestess waiting.”

He pushed open the doors to the chapel, holding them open for you as you strode inside, the small train of your dress trailing behind you as you went. Your mother had sewn you this dress before she died, for this very moment. It was pure white with a long, sheer draping cape covered in silver diamonds. The bodice had a sheer underbust with those same diamonds carefully placed to make a beautiful, intricate pattern. The skirt fell to the floor, shimmering in the faelights of the chapel also covered in diamonds. It was beautiful, truly, and Azriel’s breath had been stolen away the moment he had seen you in it. You looked like the goddess of the moon, herself.

Your brother, who you allowed to help you get ready since you had decided on a private mating ceremony, had teared up at the sight, himself. Rhysand had given you a loving speech before sending you and Azriel off to your ceremony knowing he wouldn’t see the two of you for at least a few weeks as you would leave immediately after for your mating honeymoon.

Azriel himself was dressed in all black formal wear, finely made and tailored to his body perfectly. Your mouth had gone dry when he had stepped out of the shadows, his dark hair tousled and looking like a true Angel of Death. The dark side of your moon.

Standing here now before the Priestess as she read out verses of love and unity, you couldn’t focus on anything but your mate. He stared back at you with the same intensity, his wings held out proudly and his shadows encasing the two of you, swirling around in delight.

“You may say your vows, now,” the Priestess declared, shutting her book and bringing out the ribbon that was to be tied around your wrists and hands. Azriel held out his hand for you and you took it, holding them up for the Priestess who began to wrap the ribbon around them.

“I have prayed to the stars every night since the moment I fell in love with you, Azriel, that a day might come where you’d be mine and I’d be yours,” you breathed out. “Despite all that stood between us, the magic that kept you from me all these years, I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that this was our ending. I will love you until I no longer exist, through death and all that comes after.”

“There would be no shadow without light,” Azriel whispered, resting his forehead against yours as you stared up at him. “And you have been my light, princess. I live and breathe for you. My body, my soul, my mind, were made to love you and only you. Because you are the light in whose shadows I exist in. You are the guiding star that I will follow until the end of all things. I vow to love and cherish you for all of eternity. Nothing shall keep us apart from this moment on. No magic, no God, no death can separate us. You are mine as I am yours.”

You blinked the tears in your eyes away as the Priestess finally tied off the ribbon with a smile. “As witness to your love, I bless thee with the sanctity of the Mother and all that is holy. May your love serve as a reminder of the good this world can offer. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

And so you did. The kiss Azriel gave you was full of love and passion—a promise to all that he planned to give you. The Priestess held out a small tray with the pastry you had baked for him—a small pear tart that you knew was his favorite sweet treat. She winked as you took it from her before winnowing away to allow you privacy.

And the Gods knew you’d need it if the heated look Azriel was giving you could be seen from heaven.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You barely made it through the door to the villa the two of you would be staying in for an indefinite amount of time before Azriel’s lips crashed against yours. You met him with the same intensity as he pressed you against the wall, caging you in with his taut body.

He groaned as you parted your lips for him, allowing him the chance to taste you—to claim your mouth as his. One of his hands stayed against the wall while the other traveled down the length of your body, somehow finding your leg in the mess of your skirt and hooking it around him.

Still, there were far too many layers between the two of you. Your body was on fire with want, with need. Sparks were igniting in your lower stomach, a terrible ache that only Azriel could soothe was taking over. The mating bond was singing its beautiful tune.

“Bed,” you managed to mumble out between his kisses. “Now.”

His shadows encased you once more, taking the two of you to the lush bedroom upstairs. You pushed him towards the bed but he stopped you, pulling away from you as you whined in disapproval.

“No teasing,” you pouted.

Azriel grinned. The sight of it was so breathtaking.

“I assure you, princess, I have no intention other than ravishing you tonight.”

He twisted you so your back was to him and he gently began to unbutton the bodice of your dress, pressing a kiss each time a new inch of skin was exposed to him. You melted into his delicate touch, allowing him to undress you completely until you were naked before him.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he growled against your skin, pressing kisses down the length of your back until he was on his knees. He placed his hands on your bare waist and turned you around to face him, staring up at you with a reverence that had your heart jumping in your chest.

He kissed your stomach, hugging your body with his arms. You could feel his muscles flexing—his hazel eyes so dilated, they appeared black—and you knew he was holding himself back for a moment.

“There is no part of you that I am going to leave untouched, princess,” he groaned, his eyes trailing down your body, full of hunger. “Now that I can touch you, I’m going to make you wholly mine.”

“What are you waiting for?” You whispered, so full of need. Your words had the desired effect, his restraint finally slipping. He pushed you backwards until your knees hit the bed and you fell down on the soft cushion, your hair fanning around your head like a halo.

Azriel rested on his forearms above you, capturing your lips again with a new frenzy that left you panting. A hand slipped underneath your neck, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss, caressing your tongue with his. He tasted as good as sin.

His lips began to trail down your throat, sucking on the tender skin and leaving love marks in their wake. Your hands slipped into his hair, fisting his dark locks between your fingers and he continued his path down your body, staying true to his own words that no part of you would go untouched tonight.

He explored every inch of you, leaving you to moan and squirm underneath him. You arched into his touch, wanting more. So much more.

“Azriel, please,” you whined as the ache between your legs became unbearable. Azriel looked up at you with his dark eyes from where he had taken your breast into his mouth.

“Keep begging, princess,” he growled. “You will not rush me.”

Your head fell back against the pillow as he started his ministrations on your breast again, using his hand to caress the other one. His kisses were soft but his hands were not. Not as they groped and squeezed you with a bruising grip that only heated you further. As if having handfuls of you was simply not enough.

His mouth traveled down your stomach, licking and biting a path on your skin until he pulled away, standing up at the edge of the bed. You rose onto your elbows, eyes glazed with lust.

Azriel drank in the sight of you laying bare before him, a muscle in his jaw flexing, his hands itching to touch you again.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “My mate. My love. All mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, sounding far too needy. “Please, take me.”

He leaned over, running his hands down the length of your body before he pressed a kiss against your belly again. “My mate.”

Another kiss between your hips. “Mine.”

He fell to his knees, pushing your legs apart so he could kiss the inside of your thigh. “All mine.”

And then he hooked his arms around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You let out a gasp, raising onto your elbows again to look at him. He kissed the back of your knee before moving his way up your thigh.

“I need to taste you, princess.” His voice was a near whine as he left marks all along your leg—sucking and biting. You moaned his name repeatedly, begging and begging him just like he wanted.

That set him off because a moment later, he was devouring you with a hunger only a mate could have. Your wanton moans had him palming himself through his pants, trying to relieve some pressure. He sucked and licked your core, not stopping until you fell over the edge, his name coming out of your mouth like a prayer.

You were still coming down from the high as he made his way back up to you, kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. You pulled back, grabbing his face in your hand. Gods, he was so beautiful. Everything about him was so beautiful.

Your heart fluttered at the love in his eyes, you were smiling without even realizing it. You kissed him as you reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Take this off. Now.”

“Anything for you, princess.” He smiled against your lips and helped you undress him as fast as he could until he was as naked as you.

You could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach.

You ran your hands down his chided chest, raking your nails over his skin. He groaned at your touch and you pressed a kiss to his jaw, his throat, enjoying the noises you were causing him to make. Your hands continued their way down his body until you were about to finally grasp his cock but he grabbed your wrists in one hand and slammed them into the mattress above your head.

You let out a noise of displeasure.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Azriel groaned. “I need you. Now.”

You hissed as he took his cock in his hands and lined it up against your entrance. He hovered for a second, glancing at you, seeking permission one last time.

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

Azriel held himself up over you with a hand on either side of your head, lightly brushing his lips against yours. He slowly slid inside of you, inch by inch. Savoring the way you wrapped around him. You groaned, wrapping your hands around his biceps, your nails digging into his skin at the slight pain.

But the pain was worth the pleasure. Was worth the feeling of your bodies becoming one. You wanted that feeling to never end.

He stopped once he was buried inside of you, allowing you a moment to adjust as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin. “You are mine. My mate, my love.”

“And you are mine,” you whispered back.

“Until the end,” he agreed.

He started to move, pulling all the way out and thrusting slowly back in. Azriel let out a curse and bit down on your neck, his canines piercing your skin. He licked the new wound as he pulled back out and thrust again.

“Gods, please,” you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you.

“No gods here to beg, princess,”Azriel growled. “Just me.”

He fully unleashed himself then, his restraint snapping, as he lost himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him. You closed your eyes, melting into the mattress. He took every part of you, claimed every inch of you with him. You weren’t sure where your body ended and his began.

With every frenzied thrust came a declaration of how much he loved you, how good you felt, how beautiful you looked with him buried inside of you, between his growls of pleasure. You became hyper aware of every brush of his skin, the feeling of his warm breath against your neck.

The pleasure inside of you grew and grew with every stroke of his cock until his name was slipping from your mouth with a string of curses and pleas. Your hands trailed his body, down his back until you reached his wings. He groaned as your fingertips brushed against the cool membrane, his pace quickening.

His thrusts grew more frenzied at your touch as the bond shined like starlight between the two of you. It was blinding, all consuming.

“I love you,” Azriel murmured between his kisses and it was those words that finally sent you over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, your darkness taking over the room as you reached a high you’d never felt before.

At the feel of you coming on his cock, tightening and pulsing around him, Azriel fell over the edge right after you with one final thrust, burying himself inside of you as a hot stream of his cum filled you so thoroughly.

Both of you were panting as you came down from that high. Azriel collapsed on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging you to him. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart that beat to the same rhythm as yours. The same rhythm of your mating bond’s mesmerizing song.

Azriel lazily ran his hand up and down your spine. His touch was soothing and you never wanted it to stop. Not when you had once been untouchable to him. No, you wanted to feel his skin against yours at every waking moment and you knew he felt the same way by the way he clung to you now.

“I love you,” you whispered, tracing over his tattoos with a finger.

“I love you too,” he mumbled into your hair. “You are my everything. I’m never letting you go again now that I have you.”

“Good,” you smiled, propping yourself up to look at him. “Because I'm never letting you go either.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

100 years later

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Your heart was warm as you sat cuddled against Azriel, watching your family open their solstice presents. Your hands were intertwined, as they always were since the day the two of you had your mating ceremony. Azriel had never considered himself a publicly affectionate person but after centuries of not being able to touch you, he would never stop now that he could—no matter who was around.

Rhysand and Feyre sat on a settee across from you guys. Nyx and Selene stood beside them, smiling down at their two younger siblings as they ripped open their presents from them. Cassian and Nesta were on a couch next to them, a bundled up babe held in her arms.

Mor and Emerie were giggling in the corner together, like they were in their own little world. Elain stood with Lucien, three younglings that shared the same red hair running around her legs with laughter. Even Amren was smiling, sat with Varian.

You placed a hand on your bulging tummy. You were due any day now with your first babe with your mate. Azriel placed a scarred hand over yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your belly in a protective cocoon of sorts and you batted at them with a huff.

You had thought your brother had gone overboard with protecting Feyre all the times she was pregnant but Azriel by far took the cake.

The baby wiggled, causing both of you to gasp lightly at the feel.

“I can’t wait to hold him,” Azriel murmured to you. “He’s going to be beautiful. Just like you.”

You smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “I think he’s going to look just like his papa.”

Azriel chuckled, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. He had been fussing over you and the baby since day one. He had built the entire nursery himself, with his own hands, claiming he didn’t trust anyone else to make things for your child.

“Either way he’ll be perfect,” Azriel said, kissing the side of your head.

“Yes,” you breathed out, lovingly rubbing your belly. “He will.”

And three days later, the next chapter of yours and Azriel’s love story began.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The end.

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liveyun · 10 days

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EYES LIKE STARS | 1

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🌧️

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

rating. M (18+)

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 9.5k +

warnings. (for this chapter) coarse language, OC being in denial and this is just the beginning LOL , parental negligence / toxic parenting , flashbacks, slight mention injuries (knee scraping) and crying , panic attack :( , oc is kinda.. eh, SOMEONE is introduced 😵‍💫, this is it for the first part, lmk if i missed any other warnings, “english isnt my first language” so can contain grammatical errors, not proof read + the last part omfg

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Some doors, no matter how tightly shut, always find a way to open.

The sun was up after the drizzle, which bathed the town in a subtle golden haze, the kind that made everything feel a little too warm, a little too nostalgic. You walked slowly, almost as if your feet were dragging against the weight of the years you’d left behind. A part of you did not really want to be here, but a greater part of you knew you cannot continue to run away from everything like you always have.

Such a coward.

Your home stood at the end of a narrow lane, tucked away like a secret that had been kept for far too long, to the point you felt like it maybe didn’t exist anymore. The house looked the same, yet different, almost as if it had aged in your absence - funny, because although it looked pretty worn out, nothing really felt off. Or did it? The paint was chipped, the garden overgrown, the lawn and grass both destroyed.

But it was still the place you’d once called home—a place that had witnessed more arguments than apologies, more silence than understanding. You pause, staring at the old, browned door as if it’s a portal to another world— always has been— to a world where you were always second best, always compared, always found wanting, longing, no— yearning for the bare minimum. Your own once called home which always felt like a far distant place for you.

It still does.

The windows stare back at you, blank and lifeless, just like the eyes that used to watch you so closely, judging every move, every breath. You don’t want to go inside, but you know you have to. You cannot keep on running away anymore. You are tired, but you dont exactly know if doing something which has your gut churning with disdain can be exactly considered as rest or relaxation.

You notice that the shabby WELCOME door mat which was once a home for mites is no longer at the front door anymore.

As you drew closer, your eyes involuntarily flickered to the house next door. The garden was well-tended, prettiest of the flowers scattered in the greenery in full bloom, just like how you’d remembered.

As always.

The house stood as if nothing had changed there— as if time had preserved that house and all its memories in a neat little bubble. Always so full of life, always so welcoming. You bite down the bitterness which floats up your chest at the thought. Push down the small voice in the back of your head which insists that you will never be welcomed the way a static house makes you feel.

A part of you, the part you’d tried to bury, kick away— wondered if he still lived there. If his parents still looked out from the same windows, waiting for their golden boy to come home.

Who cares.

You quickly turned your gaze away, focusing on the worn steps leading up to her own front door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob, the cold metal biting into your skin. You’d previously informed your mum through a text message that you will be visiting them, which you didn’t bother or have the energy to check if she’d actually seen.

Your hand on the knob stills, and you purse your lips in thought. You’d decided it’d be a bit courteous to knock instead of just barging in — perhaps some basic decency to spare — although if it was your own home — as if it ever was. You raise your fists to knock— and the door creaked open before you could really.

There she stood.

The same face that had greeted you with tired smiles and even more tired expectations, back in the days when her face was devoid of wrinkles, and full of youthful beauty. The same person who’d cradled you on her bosom and cherished you; the same person who at least tried to make an effort to mend some broken ties, although when she was very well aware it was way too late.

“You’re back,” your mother said, her voice heavy with something that wasn’t quite disappointment but wasn’t quite relief either. She sounded tired— and your mind partially thought if it was because of you. You really felt overwhelmed by emotions, you really did.

You felt the back of your eyes burn with tears — that familiar feeling which you’d remembered was a staple one when you used to live here back in your teenage days. You wanted to engulf her in a hug and just cry, hoping that you could just, for once, forget about whatever had ever happened, and truly be a child once again.

“I’m back,” you reply, deciding to push aside any fleeting emotions which dared to threaten you. You stepped inside as soon as your mom moved aside and let the familiar scent of home—of old furniture — of broken communication — of forgotten dreams —wash over you.

— — —

Inside, the house was just as you’d remembered it. The wallpaper was still peeling in the corners, the furniture still arranged the way it had been since you were a child. It smelled like old wood, dust, the old sandalwood diffuser — and something bitter that lingered in the air, like the remnants of a fight that never really ended.

The walls seem closer than you remember, the space smaller, suffocating. Everything is the same, yet different, distorted by the journey of time and the weight of all that’s been left unsaid. Was any of the furniture ever even moved ever since you’d left? You’re in doubt.

However, the air was thick with unspoken tension, a tension that had always existed— but was now more prominent, more suffocating. You could feel the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, as if she were waiting for her to say something, anything, to break the silence that had settled between them like thick snow.

Although it’s been so long, surprisingly, you didnt really have anything to break the ice with.

Or even if you did, you didn’t want to.

You move through the house on autopilot, your feet carrying you to the living room where you remember the echoes of your parents’ voices being the loudest. You felt disgruntled — upset, at how memories of your parents fighting are the only prominent thing you can remember vividly inside this house. You wanted to laugh ; you can almost see them standing there, locked in yet another battle of wills, their words sharp and cutting, slicing through the air like knives, and you— you ?

Perhaps standing in some corner with your favorite old teddy bear, covering your ears the best you could, trembling with sobs, wondering if this would ever stop. Their words, though, are like a very vague memory to you. Almost as if someone is tingling a metal glass in the back of your head, far away, and the echoes which reach you are the only thing audible.

They were always fighting, always tearing each other apart, and you were always caught in the crossfire, collateral damage in a war that wasn’t even yours to fight.

But it was you who paid the price, every single time.

You hear footsteps, and your throat goes dry. The realization that you recognize the footsteps is beyond disturbing to you, as the fact that you even know who the owner of the footsteps is.

From recognising footsteps to vehicle horns, you grew up, and this would never not be able to turn on a switch in the back of your head. You knew the footsteps, their urgency, or even their tone, may you be called crazy. And you perhaps are delusional to think that maybe these steps are rather relaxed and slow. . .

perks of growing in a strict family, you guess.

Your father emerged from the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes, now very much lacking of the light they used to radiate, widen ever so slightly, but then again, come back to their usual resting form. Almost as if he tried to mask his. . . disappointment?

You weren’t sure, and his expression wasn’t one of happiness, either.

He looked older, more worn, but his eyes held the same disapproval you had seen so many times before. The kind of disapproval that was never voiced but was always felt.

A kind of disapproval you felt in your veins even before you were faced to force it, almost as if it was imprinted deep in your veins, that no matter what you’d do, you’re going to get this stamp of resentment passed onto you.

“Long time,” he muttered, his eyes flicking over yours as if assessing the damage of the years. The silence which has stretched all over these years. You were surprised that he even decided to speak up, remembering the time when you departed.. wasn’t exactly as serene as a teary goodbye sounded like, but that was a memory you refused to unlock.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

You grimace at how dry you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe because it’s partially the fact that you didn't know what to answer, or maybe because..

Well.

You stood there, the three of you, now, in the cramped living room that had never felt like a home to you. You wonder if it did to them too, or was it just the forced idea of it being a home to rest their heads in made them used to the idea that it was a home. Misunderstandings which haunt you, as their child, you sure are to know that they must haunt them too.

You were someone who tried fixing them, who never once tried to do that themselves, right in the place where it all began, pretending it was home, when all it ever felt like was a place they were too tired to leave.

The silence in the room felt heavy, oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall which seemed to drag time over and over.

It once again felt like their eyes pierced your very own soul, trying to burn you with their gaze.

“I’ll get dinner started,” your mother echoed, turning away before anyone could respond. It was easier, you supposed, to keep busy than to confront the reality of your return.

Or her expectations. Who knows.

You nodded, more to yourself than to anyone else, and followed your mother into the kitchen. You weren’t surprised that your father opted to go outside — a habit you’d recall which was so frequent back in the olden days when everything was a frenzied mess. Either he used to be out puffing out nicotine, or simply. . . didn’t return home until he felt like it.

— — —

The kitchen was smaller than you’d remembered, or maybe you’d just grown up. The shelves were no longer as tall as Burj Khalifa to you, and neither were the long random cabinets— who were the same dull brown, the countertops cluttered with the same appliances that had seen better days.

Your breath stuttered at how even the products you’d seen were the same, not a single new thing filled there— from the good ol’ crunchy cereal cornflakes (which was barely even consumed for breakfast,) or the chilli crisp you’d loved to drizzle on top of nearly any dish you’d had.

Truly, nothing really had changed.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” your mother’s voice reached out to you as you nearly flinched, not having expected her to begin a conversation. She was diligent in her chore; her question was like a soft command which demanded an answer, not looking up from where she was peeling potatoes, with that same old lilac handled peeler.

“Yeah,” you repeat, this time truly not knowing what else to say. To say you felt like a dumbass was an understatement; because truly, after so long, you seem to have lost the spark to even think to answer.

However , you didn’t want to explain yourself, didn’t want to justify why you’d stayed away for so long. You didn’t owe them that. You didn’t owe them anything.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It felt better that way.

The silence returned, heavy and uncomfortable. You found yourself staring out the small kitchen window, your gaze drifting to the house next door. You could see the top of the garden wall, the vibrant green of the plants that lined it.

It was strange how one small thing could hold so many memories, how one small thing could make you feel so much. Much more than being inside of your own house ever did, or ever could.

Yet, something about it feels different now, like a memory you’ve revisited too many times, its edges blurred with the weight of all you’ve carried inside you for decades.

You can almost see him there, in the yard, surrounded by laughter that wasn’t just his—it was a magnet, he was like a magnet, pulling everyone into its orbit, everyone except you. You were always on the outside looking in, (and it’s nearly ironic how you are now too,) your heart a silent witness to the joy you could never touch, never reach.

Even when he reached out, trying to pull you into that magnetic circle of warmth, you resisted. Your pride was too wounded, your envy was too sharp. How could you join in when every smile of his was a reminder of everything you could never be?

.....

Fuck.

You quickly look away, focusing on the mundane task of setting the table, very well knowing that your mom is gonna do that again. But the curiosity lingered, like a small fucking bug, a small, nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite shake out of you.

You did not want to think about him. You did not come here all the way to remember someone who has always just,. . . you sigh, gritting your teeth. Here were you again, fretting and sweating. Your mind whirred, not wanting to remember the way his smile had once made you feel both seen and invisible at the same time.

— — —

You decide you could take a walk around to fuck around and.. uh, find out, maybe? (You weren’t sure what exactly, though.)

As you maneuver through the hallway, your gaze drifts to the old family photos hanging on the wall. They seem. . out of place, like relics from a time that never really existed, or more like pieces on . . a museum? A museum where no one cared for its content , and everything was just randomly added to make something out of nothing.

You were always smiling in those pictures, but it was a smile that never reached your eyes—a smile that hid the exhaustion inside you. And there, in the corner of every photo, was him.

Even in those memories, those old photos, he was perfect. The golden boy with the bright eyes and the easy smile. His eyes were so bright and full of a happiness that seemed to come so naturally, would crinkle at the corners when he smiled—an easy, effortless smile that lit up his entire face.

His hair, always a little tousled from running around, caught the sunlight in a way that made it glow, adding to the image of him as the golden boy. You remember the way his front teeth, slightly larger and giving him that bunny-like appearance, would peek out when he grinned, adding a touch of innocence to his already charming features. He’s grinning widely in this picture, his nose crinkled up and his fingers poised in a victory sign, aligned to his face, right above his eyes, a smile so infectious that you feel your lips stretch to a smile even before you know it.

Your heart drops to your ass.

You’re smiling.

You can still hear their voices,though. Dripping with disappointment every time they said his name, their expectations pressing down on you like a weight you could never lift. You were expected to be someone’s walking copy— perfect and what not. You were the one who couldn’t measure up, the one who always fell short, who always came last in the race.

You take a deep breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling shards of glass, each breath painful, deep and cutting. The silence in the house is deafening, only the distant noise of your mother chopping up vegetables with that same dull thud against the chop board audible.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that the absence of your parents’ voices is more suffocating than their arguments ever were. You had always wished for the fighting to stop, but now that it has, you find yourself wishing for the noise, the chaos—anything to drown out the silence that presses in on you from all sides.

Maybe you had finally gone insane.

You had run away from it all. From the piercing noises, comparison, disdain, disappointment, everything. You were so young back then, with no knowledge of the outside world or its secrets.

You’d try to settle in different parts of the world, failing miserably each time because that feeling of something missing in your soul— that deep longing and yearning for anything that wasn’t as quick as getting a quick whiff of dopamine.. never quite left following you.

And now, here you are, back where it all began, and nothing has changed. Except, perhaps, you. You’re not the same girl who left this place. You’ve seen too much, been through too much. The world has carved its mark on you, left you scarred and weary, and you’re not sure if there’s anything left of the girl you used to be.

But as you stand there, looking out at the endless pictures which hang on the old plastered walls where the past that still haunts you, you realize something.

You’re not just angry anymore.

You’re tired.

Tired of carrying this weight, this burden of resentment and hurt. Tired of blaming all the misunderstandings that were woven into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, to someone who perhaps wasn't even slightly related to your pain.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t really him you despised, but the circumstances that had pushed you to see him as the source of your pain, which had settled like dust in the chambers of your heart. The misunderstandings that had tangled themselves into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, weaving him into the narrative of your suffering, were unfair to you both.

It felt easier to blame him than to confront the truth—that your pain had roots far deeper than just one boy with a bright smile and kind heart.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let go.

The thought surprises you, shakes you to your core. Where the fuck did that come from?

The thought not only surprises you, but mostly, scares you. You take a cautious step back. It comes with a dozen questions which you fear that you don’t know the answers to, or are way too confused to even think about them.

You’ve held onto this anger for so long, let it define you, shape you. Who will you be without it? Can you really let go of something that has been a part of you for so long?

Did it really take you this long to realise this, all that, too in the place where you desperately ran away from?

You don’t have the answers, not yet. But standing here, in this place where it all began, you think that maybe you’re ready to start looking for them.

And that scares you more than anything else.

You find yourself staring at a sketchbook, after dinner, which was all just . . . once again, all silence. You remember how you realised that the food tasted bland, despite having a home cooked meal after nearly a decade. You tried adding salt till it was way too salty, and you had to gulp down each morsel because it became too bitter for your taste. The suffocating silence was broken when the bubbling hot stew burnt your tongue, as you yelped in pain. The only relief you got was gulping down a whole bottle of iced water from the fridge.

Your tongue feels numb now. Great.

Your eyes roam over the sketchbook again, its once pristine pages now yellowed with age. It was a relic from your childhood, buried deep in the attic with dust for years until your return home unearthed it. As you trace the lines of the drawing on the first page, you remember the day you made it—a simple scene of a house on a hill, surrounded by trees and bathed in the warm glow of a sunset, and those huge “V” shaped birds marked randomly near the sun.

You remember that you were so proud of that drawing, each line and color carefully chosen by your younger self, an attempt to capture a world that felt safe and beautiful.

An imaginary place where you’d even thought of making stick figures to show you and your parents, a world where they lived happily, but the vague pencil traces underneath the pastel scribbling show that you’d decided it was better without it.

But the memory of showing it to your parents is what lingers most. You remember how your excitement had bubbled over as you presented the drawing to your parents, your young heart brimming with pride. You’d spent hours on that piece, the house on the hill, the yellow-ish hues of the sunset, the trees swaying gently in the imaginary breeze. You thought it was the best thing you’d ever created.

But when you placed the sketchbook in front of them, eager for their approval, their reactions were far from what you had hoped.

Your mother’s eyes had flickered over the page, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything at first, just handed the sketchbook over to your father, who barely glanced at it before returning to his newspaper. It was your mother who finally broke the silence, her voice flat and dismissive. “It’s… fine,” she’d said, and that single word was like a bucket of cold water on your excitement, your hard work.

You remember vividly, how your heart sank, how the colours of your drawing seemed to dull right before your eyes. How hours of scribbling felt like it’d all been to waste. The pride you’d felt moments before quickly evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You were too young to understand why her words stung so much, but old enough to know they did.

But then your mother’s tone shifted, a hint of something sharper creeping into her voice. Her eyes, dark and clear, were on you. “You know,” she’d continued, “Jungkook showed us a drawing he did just last week. It was a landscape too, but he added so much detail. The way he captured the mountains and the way the light reflected on the water… It was really impressive. His technique is really improving.”

Your father chimed in, not even looking up. “Yes, he’s always had a good eye for these things, hah. Natural talent, I suppose.”

You’d just stood there in the corner, your limbs feeling way too weak and shaky to hold you up.

You’d tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to swallow the hollow pain in your chest, but it was no use. The resentment boiled inside you, twisting something in your chest until all you could feel was the unfairness of it all. You had wanted to create something beautiful, to show them what you were capable of, that you could do better, but instead, your drawing had become just another reminder of how you didn’t measure up.

The sting of their words burned hot behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were blurring your vision. You didn’t want to cry in front of them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. So you bolted from the yard, the sound of their conversation fading behind you as you ran, feeling even hurt that none of your parents bothered to ask about where you were going.

But your vision was too clouded by tears, and as you reached the stairs, you’d feel your foot catch on the edge of a step. You stumbled forward, eyes widening, your arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but it was too late. You’d fallen, hard, the impact of your knee against the hardwood sending a sharp jolt of pain through your leg.

You remember the way your mother had smiled when she talked about Jungkook’s drawing, a soft, admiring smile that she rarely directed at you. It wasn’t just the critique of your work that hurt—it was the realization that, in their eyes, Jungkook would always outshine you. No matter how hard you tried, how much effort you put in, he was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, while you were just… there.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, partly from the pain, but mostly from the overwhelming sense of rejection and inadequacy. You sat there on the stairs, your knee scraped and bleeding, the ache in your chest even worse than the one on your knee. The drawing that had once filled you with pride now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of how you would always fall short, no matter how hard you tried.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, angry at them for making you feel this way, and angry at Jungkook for being the perfect son they never had. The resentment grew deeper, and with it, so did the belief that you were never going to be good enough for them, no matter what you did.

— — —

The moon is full overhead when you finally change into some comfortable PJs and finally feel sleep knock on the back of your eyelids and exhaustion making its way to move gradually along your body. Today wasn’t exactly eventful, but rather a concoction of memories which tickled and stung you like a thousand bees over and over.

You’ve decided to keep the windows open, . . .for tonight, atleast, because you do not dare sleep without feeling suffocated here. It sounds silly, but having nice ventilation feels. . . fresh, or more so.

You were around fourteen, you think, as you remember sitting on the edge of the playground, kicking at the dirt with the toes of your worn sneakers. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field, and you could hear the other kids shouting and playing, their voices mingling with the distant hum of traffic.

You weren’t interested in joining them. Your eyes were fixed on a figure in the distance, one you knew all too well.

Jungkook.

He was standing by the swings, laughing with a group of boys who seemed to hang on his every word. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he pushed it back, and his smile—God, that smile—was so bright, so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at. You hated that smile. You hated how perfect he seemed, how effortless everything was for him. And you hated how, no matter what you did, you could never seem to escape his shadow. No wonder the girls were so hung up on him, even the class president— it was ridiculous.

That day had started like any other, with your parents reminding you how you should be more like Jungkook. They praised his grades, his athletic abilities, and his charm. Either a direct implication of “Why can’t you be more like him?” or something like “You know, Jungkook— blah blah blah, all that bullshit about how he was better than you in every aspect. Even if it was the topic of increasing acne on your face, not realising—or maybe not caring—how their words cut you down. You knew they meant well, or maybe not, but each comparison felt like a knife to your heart, a reminder that you would never be good enough.

That you’ll never be him.

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt a presence beside you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Why are you sitting here alone?” His voice was always so soft. So gentle.

You hated his voice. Why did he sound so. . . sweet ? so smooth, almost with a slight undertone of a rasp. Why did it make you want to surrender and break down into the frustration which was pent up inside you since ages?

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest heavy. You wanted to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because as much as you resented him, wanted him away from you, you somehow wanted him near you, a feeling which was hugely perplexing to you. It was a twisted, painful contradiction that you didn’t fully understand, nor you’d ever wanted to.

Jungkook sat down beside you, right on the dusty ground, his knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt, a feeling of fleeting emotions through you, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Of course he’s gonna be concerned.

And that was the thing about Jungkook—he was always so kind, so considerate, even when you didn’t want him to be. It only made you feel worse. It only made you feel like utter shit, like you were not meant for anything, not even basic human compassion.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t seem convinced. He shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. He smelled like baby powder mixed with sweat. Irritating. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s bothering you.”

You almost laughed at the irony. How could you talk to him when he was the source of so much of your pain? When everyday you had to just, suffer because of him? How could you tell him that every time you looked at him, you felt like you were drowning in your own inadequacy? That every time he succeeded, it felt like another reminder of your failures? While he was always praised, always encouraged, while you were left to wonder why your efforts never seemed to measure up?

But instead of saying any of that, you just nodded, giving him the answer he wanted. Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you as weak, as vulnerable. You couldn’t let him know how deeply he had affected you.

There was a long silence between you, the kind that felt like it was stretching out forever. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in your chest building with every passing second. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Jungkook spoke again.

“You know, you’re really talented,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, a habit you hate to have noticed when he gets excited about something. “I just saw your abstract sketches the other day. Holy shit dude, they’re amazing!”

You didn’t know if your heart hammering in your chest sounded more or the silence after his praise did. He, however, didn’t stop there.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to twist the knife deeper. Because at that moment, you realised that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. To him, everything came so easily—success, praise, admiration. But for you, it was a constant struggle, a battle you fought every day just to keep your head above water.

You turned to look at him then, really look at him, not caring if your eyes are brimming with unshed tears or if your nose is runny with snot and tears.

And for the first time, you saw the boy behind the perfect image. There was a softness in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart ache. And for a fleeting moment, you wanted to believe him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than the sum of your insecurities.

But then reality came crashing back, and the bitterness you had tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice flat, on the verge of cracking, devoid of the warmth you knew he was expecting. “But I don’t need your pity.”

Jungkook blinked, his doe eyes widening, taken aback by your sudden harshness. “It’s not—”

“Just leave me alone,” you’d hissed, standing up abruptly. You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest, your blood rushing onto your face. You could feel his eyes on your back, but you didn’t dare look back. Because if you did, you knew you would see the hurt in his expression, and you couldn’t handle that. Not when you were already so close to breaking.

And so you ran. Ran so fast, so hard, that you felt your chest constrict and gulp for air— the static breeze feeling like wind on your face as you ran, ran, ran. Ran till your limbs gave away and your head hurt, till you feel your insides eat you up with a strange mix of emotions—anger, regret, sadness.

But most of all, you felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, even if you felt like you did the right thing. Because in pushing Jungkook away, you had also pushed away the one person who might have understood, who might have been able to help you. . . only if you hadn’t pushed him away.

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

But as you stare at the sketchbook now, under the glowing moonlight, running your fingers over the faded lines of the drawing, the sketches you’d made again — you see it with different eyes—eyes that can appreciate the innocence in those lines, the earnestness of a child who only wanted to create something beautiful. The proportions might not be perfect, almost nothing in those sketches were — but there’s a charm in their simplicity, a warmth in the colors that you hadn’t noticed before. They were all good drawings, you think, not because of their technical skill, but because they were a reflection of who you were back then—hopeful, imaginative, and full of dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been a little too hard on yourself all those years ago.

You hadn’t even planned to be here.

The moment your father casually mentioned that the Jeons still lived next door, you felt that familiar, uncomfortable pressure building in your chest. You didn’t absolutely know why that information passed on, especially when after a heavy restless night of feeling like crap, your muscles aching from exhaustion , your brain unable to process every thought which you’d thought, you were finally up to join your parents for an early evening tea.

His voice was cheerful, like he had no idea the gravity of what he was suggesting, but you felt it immediately. Every time the conversation veered toward your neighbors, it dredged up feelings you weren’t ready to confront. The Jeons—his parents—meant one thing, and ultimately, one thing only: Jungkook.

The mention of their name was enough to send your mind into overdrive, painting images of polite conversation and awkward laughter, images that twisted into something far more unbearable—seeing him. You could already hear the follow-up conversation in your mother’s saccharine sweet voice, “Why don’t you come over and say hello? Catch up with the Jeons?” And worst of all, they’d ask about you. You felt despondent to even think of the conversation, if it ever took place.

You weren’t used to the warmth which Mr. and Mrs. Jeon had shown you throughout the years, which only made you doubt if they ever knew the thick wall of ash between their son and you. They were so copacetically well humored, it almost hurt to be in a conversation with them.

Almost as if you never were used to this form of decency, that it shocked you to your core.

Jungkook’s parents would definitely ask, and you'd be expected to stand there and smile like you hadn't left everything behind. You know they definitely wouldn’t mean anything hurtful, but you do not believe your mind.

Not yet, atleast.

Before your parents could suggest anything more, before they could casually lead you down that path of small talk and forced interactions, you’d mumbled a vague excuse. Something about needing to stretch your legs, or needing some air.

You really did, though.

You’d slipped out the front door like you were running away, and you shook away the bitterness forming in your throat. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that it had to be away from that conversation, away from the chance of seeing him.

As your feet carried you through the familiar streets, your mind raced faster than your heart. The narrow, winding streets were the same, the faded signs on shop windows were the same, but the memories that clung to the air—they were suffocating.

You’d always thought coming back would be simple. Walk down memory lane, see familiar faces, and pretend you were someone new. But the weight of those memories hung over you, each one sharper than the last. With every corner you turned, you felt the tug of your past, a pull you couldn’t quite shake away, no matter how hard you’d tried to shrug it off.

— — —

You found yourself slipping into a small café you hadn’t noticed before, just off the main road, desperate for a reprieve.

What’s the name— 134340? Quite strange, you think, but shrug it off once again. People are creative with their business requirements, even if that means that you probably make out nothing from eyeing the café from outside. except the fact that. . . it’s possibly space themed?

Now that is strange for a coffee shop.

You think that it’s quite new. Or, who even knows. It stands out from the dull shops lit nearby, and there’s quite a buzz which attracts you here, although you’d prefer a quiet café over a bustling one any day.

Well, fuck it.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeted you as you stepped inside, the hum of quiet conversation and the soft clink of mugs providing a much-needed escape. It’s surprisingly cozy, something you’d never guessed from the odd name and the theme previously. The café is small, actually smaller than most you’ve been to. Though, it’s nice, there are fewer people here, and you quite find yourself at peace already. You chose a table near the back, away from the windows, trying to create some distance from the life outside.

You hadn’t planned to stay long, but the peaceful atmosphere lulled you into a false sense of security. You let out a long breath, allowing the tension to ease from your shoulders as you sipped your coffee. Ha, thisfelt nice. For a few blissful moments, you felt like you could breathe again. Almost like. . . maybe you could handle this return to your hometown after all.

And then, the door chimes.

You barely looked up at first—just another customer, maybe a loner like you, someone else in this quiet café. But then the barista’s voice cut through the room, clear and distinct.

“Macchiato for Jungkook!”

Huh?

Your hand froze halfway to your cup. The familiar sound of his name hit you like a punch to the gut, making your breath hitch.

No fucking way.

Your gaze shot up, almost instinctively, and that’s when you saw him. There, standing by the counter, picking up his drink like it was the most casual thing in the world. Him.

Your heart seemed to lurch into your throat. It couldn’t be him—it couldn’t. And yet, there he was, right in front of you, a few inches away.

The room seemed to shrink around you, your pulse quickening as your eyes locked onto him. You felt yourself gasping for air, your peace long broken. Your body felt suddenly too warm, your chest tightening painfully as every nerve in your body screamed for you to look away.

But you just couldn’t.

He had changed.

The boy you left behind had grown into someone you barely recognized. His back was visible to you— his frame was broader, more solid than you remembered, and his shoulders— God, what the fuck? they seemed to stretch forever beneath the dark jacket he wore. His hair, slightly tousled, deep raven — as you’d remembered— framed his face in that familiar, careless way, but it was sharper now. Defined. There was no mistaking the confidence in the way he carried himself, something he hadn't fully grown into back then.

But what stood out most—what nearly knocked the breath from your lungs—were those— were those. . . tattoos peeking underneath his jacket?

Jungkook's arm, the one that used to be bare, now carried intricate black ink that snaked from his wrist to his elbow, disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket. The lines were bold, winding and curling, and you felt your jaw drop, even if he was standing at a distance. The tattoos seemed to catch the light as he reached for his drink, each motion of his arm drawing your attention like a magnet.

You couldn’t stop staring. The boy you remembered—the one who had always been so kind, so open—had become someone else entirely.

One who stood in stark contrast to the memories you had clung to.

And he was alone.

Jungkook had always been surrounded by people. He was known to be the crowd attractor, always having his admirers petting him by his neck. He was never the type to go anywhere without friends trailing behind him, their laughter filling the spaces around him. But here, now, in this café—he was by himself. There was a stillness about him that you didn’t remember, something quiet and self-assured.

Now, it almost felt like he didn’t need anyone around him to validate his presence. He was comfortable in his own skin, by himself.

That realisation hit you harder than you expected. He had changed in ways you hadn’t anticipated, ways that made your chest tighten with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name.

And then, just as you thought your heart might explode from your chest, Jungkook turned slightly, his eyes sweeping across the café—casually, as if he were taking in his surroundings—and your stomach dropped.

Fuck, fuck. The coffee was so strong, you feel it lurching up your stomach now.

You flinched, ducking your head quickly, heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it across the room. Did he see you? Could he have recognized you after all these years? Your breath was shallow, uneven, panic rising in your throat as you wrestled with the urge to bolt from your seat.

You weren’t ready for this.

You weren’t ready to face him. Not here, not now. Not when you were still so caught up in your own thoughts, still trying to piece together the fragments of what your brain showed you. You’d come here for a cup of coffee— some peace— and seeing him again, after all this time, felt too much, and too little at once. It was like a bomb, or a bucket of ice cold water thrown directly at you.

It was overwhelming.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your bag, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. Your heart was racing, and every instinct in your body was telling you to run. But you hesitated, torn between the undeniable urge to leave and the part of you that wanted to look at him just once more. Just to see if he had really changed as much as you thought. Just to see if he, unlike this town, your home, had changed.

But you knew better. You couldn’t stay. Not with your emotions so close to the surface, threatening to spill over. If he saw you, if he recognized you—if he spoke to you— you didn’t know if you could handle that.

Because you know you can’t.

The café, once so peaceful, now felt stifling, the walls closing in on you as your breath quickened. You couldn’t breathe. You needed to get out of here, needed to escape before everything came crashing down.

With one final glance at his figure, standing there by the counter, you pushed your chair back, the screeching sound drawing more attention than you would have liked. But you didn’t care. You grabbed your things and bolted for the door, your pulse pounding in your ears, your steps quick and uneven.

You’d nearly made it. The door was just a few steps away, and all you had to do was keep your head down and walk.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the anxiety twisting your insides as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook hadn’t seen you—or at least you hoped he hadn’t. You prayed to heavens and hells that he hadn’t. But just as you reached for the door, you saw him lean against the counter, much closer now. Far closer than you had anticipated.

Fuck. Fuck!

The café’s single door was right beside where he stood, and there was no way out without passing directly by him.

Oh no.

You shouldn’t have chosen this café. Was there no other cafés for you to try? Did HE necessarily have to be in the same café as you?

Your stomach churned, your pulse thudding in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was right there. Right there. And you could feel the heat radiating off him even from where you stood. Panic crawled up your spine, making your movements sluggish and jerky. You just needed to keep your head down and walk—walk past him without glancing his way, without catching his eye. But he was so close, and as you stepped forward, trying to make yourself as small as possible, you caught it—his scent.

That familiar scent, one that had changed just as much as he had. He no longer smelled like baby powder. It was manly now, deeper, some sort of an expensive cologne, which was strong on its own— yet soft, almost comforting in a way that made your chest constrict painfully. The scent wrapped around you, making your knees feel weak, and for a second, you nearly lost your footing. You fought the instinct to look at him—to take one glance and confirm that yes, this is the Jungkook you left behind, the one who had grown into a man. But you couldn’t. If you looked at him, you’d be done.

You were beyond cooked.

Your legs carried you forward, faster than they should have, your mind racing with every step. You felt your arm brush something—him, the edge of his jacket maybe, or his hand on the counter—and your pulse spiked violently.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

You shoved the door open, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you stumbled outside, the cool air hitting your face like a hard slap back to reality.

You were outside. You’d made it. But the world around you was spinning, the street and the sky blurring together as your heart continued to pound in your chest. You leaned against the wall just outside the café, your hand pressed to your chest, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

Your palms felt uncomfortably clammy and you felt a sweat head run down your temple. Your thoughts were a mess—disjointed. Everything was hitting you at once; you had run away again. You had seen him, been close enough to touch him, and you had run. Just like before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the ache in your chest spreading as you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid. So stupid. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid ! You were an adult now, one with full responsibilities for your actions, and yet here you were, fleeing like a scared child.

You took a deep breath, forcing the air into your lungs. Maybe you could handle this. Yeah, you needed to clear your head. It’s just the coffee messing with you. Maybe you could—

“Excuse me?”

Your entire body froze at the voice directed at you.

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Rich. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, catching you off guard, wrapping itself around you like a tether, pulling you back toward the very thing you were trying to escape.

It wasn’t the voice you remembered—but it also very much was— heavier, weighted with a kind of maturity that made your breath catch. The boy you once knew had never sounded like this. This voice was deeper, more assured, like it had weathered years of life since you last heard it. The softness which his voice held in your memory still was back somewhere, but you couldn’t find it. And that hit you hard. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. The boy who used to tease you, who laughed with that bright, carefree chuckle—he was gone.

And now, that very voice was speaking to you.

You slowly turned to face him, your heart thudding violently in your chest as your eyes locked onto his face.

Yeah, this was your end.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungkook.

He was right there, just a few feet away. And this close, you could see everything.

The sharpness of his jawline hit you first, carved out and more defined than you ever remembered. It was strong, angular, like someone had taken the softness he once had and sculpted it into something more. . . commanding. His lips, parted slightly as he waited for you to respond, were full and soft, but even they held a sense of control, like every movement was deliberate. Fuck, was that a piercing at the corner ? His nose—perfectly straight, leading up to those eyes.

Those eyes.

Dark, deep, and searching. They hadn’t changed much in shape, but the way they looked at you was different now—more intense, more aware. His gaze wasn’t filled with youthful curiosity or mischief anymore. It was deeper. Grounded. Like he saw more, understood more.

He was a man now.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you had to force yourself to breathe.

Your gaze traveled up, noting the way his thick brows framed his face, darker and more defined than you remembered. They furrowed slightly as he watched you, as if trying to figure out why you were staring, why you hadn’t taken the phone from his hand yet. The small furrow in his brows only made his expression more serious, more focused. He was looking at you—not just glancing, but looking.

His dark, inky black hair brushed just above his brows, a few strands falling forward in that effortless, tousled way. It was longer now, framing his face, giving him an edge that made your chest tighten.

But it wasn’t just his face. Your eyes flickered down for just a second, barely able to handle it. His neck—strong and sinewy, leading to broad shoulders that seemed even broader now in the fitted jacket he wore. He’d filled out—a lot. His arms were no longer just lean muscle from teenage years of sports. Now, they were thicker, more muscular, straining against the fabric of his sleeve. Oh my God.

Your mind raced, every detail crashing into you at once, overwhelming your senses. Your chest felt tight, and you felt like your hands were shaking by your sides.

The more you looked, the more you realized how much had changed. How much you had missed. How much you had run away from?

It felt like the world was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the flood of memories, the weight of time lost, the realization that Jungkook had grown into someone you barely recognized—yet you knew it was still him.

He was still him.

You were losing yourself in it, in all of it, your thoughts spiraling out of control, unable to process the fact that he was standing here, holding something that belonged to you, waiting for you to take it from him.

Your eyes flickered back to his face, your heart clenching painfully. He was watching you, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. And yet, as much as he was looking at you, he didn’t know you. Didn’t recognize you. Not yet, anyway.

That hit you harder than you could’ve expected. How could he not know who you were? How could he not see it in your face, in the way you were trembling, in the panic written all over you?

But then again, why would he?

You were no longer the same girl he once knew.

And as his eyes narrowed in mild confusion, his brow furrowing just a little deeper, it became clear—he didn’t see you as the person who had disappeared from his life. Not yet.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice sending a tremor down your spine. You couldn’t miss the concern in his tone, the slight edge of worry that made your throat tighten even more.

Fuck. Of course he’d be concerned.

You blinked, the world rushing back into focus, feeling like your pupils zoomed like crazy— and suddenly, you realized you had been standing there for far too long, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Standing there like a damn weirdo.

Your phone. He is holding your phone.

For a split second, your eyes met his, and time seemed to freeze.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for the briefest of moments, something flickered there—something like recognition. You feel your eyes widening, bells ringing at the back of your head. His eyes softened, just slightly, as if he was searching your face for something familiar, something from the past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same polite curiosity.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Your eyes flickered between his face and the phone in his hand, your chest tightening with each passing second. What should you do? He was right there, right in front of you. He was close enough for yoh to reach out and take back what was yours.

But you couldn’t.

Your hand now actually trembled at your side, your body frozen in place. The air felt too thick for you to gulp in, and your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, trying to make your body move. But you couldn’t.

You just couldn’t.

He tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face as he waited for you to take the phone. Why is he so concerned!? But you just stood there, rooted to the spot, like your feet had been glued to the ground. You felt the panic rising inside you again, the walls closing in as your chest tightened painfully, slowly.

“I—” you tried again, but your throat was too tight, and the word came out as nothing more than a strangled sound, like a muffled voice.

He took a step closer, and that was it. That was it.

Your body went into overdrive. Without thinking, without even trying to reason with yourself, you turned on your heel and bolted down the street, not caring if people stopped to look at you, thinking if you possibly were either a lunatic or someone who just won a lottery.

You didn’t care. You ran, ran, feeling your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you ran. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you darted around the corner, as far away from him as possible.

You couldn’t do this.

Your heart was hammering so violently you thought it might burst right out of your chest, and all you could think about was getting away. Far, far away.

You ran till you feel your chest burn, you ran till you felt like your limbs would give up. You ran till you feel like nothing again, you ran till your mind was empty.

When you finally slowed, your breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, and your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were there. You collapsed onto a bench, your whole body trembling violently as the weight of everything crashed down on you.

You had run away.

Again.

And this time, you didn’t even have an excuse.

a/n : phew.. 😵‍💫 if you’ve made this far, thank you for reading 💜 what do we think? i’d be very glad if you let me know your thoughts 🫶🏾 if you want, there’s an anonymous feedback box where you can drop your thoughts anonymously 💌

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esvcort · 1 year

Text

collide - gojo satoru.

cw: nsfw, 18+ content, gojo x fem!reader, clit rubbing for like 2 seconds, penetration, belly press, gojo has a little bit of a breeding kink, the way he was breathing so heavily in the latest ep AUGHHH, kinda implied coworker!reader idk

author's note: YES I'M AWARE OF WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THE MANGA. i just don't care. anyway i had to get this out of my system omfg i've been thinking about this even while i was in class (i don't recommend it), about the reader being his coworker is something i kinda want to write about on maybe a real full fic idk we'll see, i did not beta read this!! just raw dog it like gojo did you ;)))

gojo breathing heavily while doing slow thrusts into you, savoring the way your messy pussy clamps on his cock. it's so wet and sticky between your thighs but that doesn't matter when all you can think about is how the throbbing head of his fat cock gets caught inside your warm walls with every roll of his hips. his large hands are on the back of thighs, until your legs are spread wide open for him and - god it's so hot - he can't help but fuck your gorgeous pussy a little quicker. he's enjoying the small noises that keeps bubbling out of your mouth, the way you can't control it, that it's because of him, that you're feeling so good. you could feel his bright blue eyes watching, staring down where you were connected. how your cunt just swallows his dick whole and how a ring of white liquid was forming at the base of his cock. his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight. suddenly, his thumb catches on your swollen clit, giving it a quick rub that has your toes curling. but the warmth of his hand moves upward and rests just below your bellybutton. and he presses, fucking presses and presses, the action making your back arch as a choked sound got stuck in your throat. he smiles when he feels himself going in and out of you, and your pussy walls tightening around his cock.

"g-gojo-san! don't- ah! ugh- hah- press!"

your hands try to hold on to his wrist to remove it, but it goes back flying to grip the sheets when gojo hits a deep thrust all while still pressing on your abdomen.

"c'mon, sweets. y'know my name."

he mutters beside your ear, leaning all of his weight down on you, and the added pressure on your abdomen creates a tingling heat inside where he's hitting your walls over and over.

"sa-! ah! -toru! g-gonna- hng- mhm-! cum! please!"

he groans, feeling your pussy squeeze his dick like a vice. he delivers another hard thrust and your legs shake, his free hand soothingly rubs your thighs as his thrusts become shallow.

"yeah, 'm gonna cum too, baby. cum on my cock. take all of my cum in that tight pussy."

you can feel him releasing warm spurts of liquid, filling you up until it's dripping back on his dick. he sluggishly fucks it back into your womb, relishing in the way that your tummy looked so full.

likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!

#esvcort #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo headcanons #esvcort drabbles

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months

Note

js read your shopping spree and dying for your haircut fics and omg

can u pretty please, with a bow on top, write another part to that series or like an au where they get separated at the fall of the world and a few season later (preferably that prison era of daryl he was so fawking sexy there like omg) they found each other again and i want some build up to their reunion yk like someone else finds r and brings them in and some ppl kinda chatting abt the new girl or wtv and dars not rlly gaf cuz he kinda getting tired of trying to find r (realistically i don’t think he’d give up easily but let’s js pretend yk) but then they see each other and they’re like omfg the love of my life’s here and safe and like i need that glenn and maggie type reunion but like tenfold bc r and dar alr loved and knew each other before the fall yk and like yeah😣

idky but i’m a sucker for “r and daryl had a relationship beforehand, got separated, and reunited” trope (?) fic, blurb shit and you’d literally be godsent if u wrote this oml

I Found You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the dead started to rise and the world went to hell, Daryl got seperated from you, the love of his life. After over a year of searching for you and finding no evidence of your survival, Daryl was beginning to give up and count his losses. One day, Carol stumbled upon a wounded woman while out on a run with Glenn, and the two of them decide to accept you into the prison. Little did they know, that would end up being one of the best decisions they could've ever made.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4, post season 3.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, mentions of attempted sexual assault (not descriptive)

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I've decided to write the au since there's already a part three for the SSHD (Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams) universe in the works, but this request was way too good to not write. I hope you like it! And I absolutely agree with you. There's something about prison era Daryl that just hits different. He was on another level completely.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

(Just thought I'd say that both third- and second person is used. I referred to the reader in third person when Glenn and Carol first met her, but it soon shifts to second person when she introduced herself. Just thought I'd let y'all know the shift is intentional.)

—

“Okay, so I can't guess what you did before all of this correctly, but I bet there is something that I will be right about.”

Daryl looked at Zach skeptically as they trudged through the abandoned store, looking for supplies to bring back to the prison. “Yeah? Wha's tha'?”

“You're brooding, quiet, you like to keep to yourself,” Zach started, leaning nonchalantly against one of the shelves while he watched the archer place multiple different packs and boxes into his bag. “The way you act most of the time would suggest you've never been in a relationship before, but there are clear signs that you were with someone before all of this.”

Daryl stiffened for a moment, his hand lingering above a pack, before regaining his composure and continuing his task. “Wha' signs?”

“Well, for one, you know exactly what kind of tampons and pads to get for the ladies at the prison. I would've just dumped everything in and have them sort through it, but you are only taking specific brands,” Zach pointed out, motioning to the box of tampons Daryl had just put back onto the shelf.

When Daryl didn't reply, Zach took that as his cue to continue. “And while we're on the topic of periods, you seem to know exactly what to get the girls for the pain and what to do to curve their bad tempers. What guy would know that if he didn't have a girlfriend before all of this? And to top it all off, and this is totally unrelated to everything I just said, I've seen that locket necklace you keep in your pocket. It's pretty worn out and faded, but you can definitely tell it's something from this generation, so it can't be something that was passed down from a relative, so that brings me to my conclusion. You, Daryl Dixon, had a girl before all of this.”

Daryl sighed, shutting his eyes tightly as he willed the onslaught of memories away. Memories that were too painful to think of, memories that did nothing but remind the archer of his failure. His failure at finding you, the love of his life, after the dead started walking. A failure he had to live with for as long as he remained alive.

Daryl opened his eyes and turned abruptly, leaving the young man behind him as he stalked towards the exit, his bag slung over his shoulder. Zach hurriedly caught up to him, struggling to keep at a steady pace beside him as Daryl strode quickly, wanting to put some distance between him and Zach.

“Woah, man! Slow down!” Zach complained, jogging to keep up with him. “Was it because I brought up the girl thing? I didn't realise it was a touchy subject.”

“It ain't none of yer damn business,” Daryl grumbled under his breath, stalking over to the truck him and Zach were using that day.

“Daryl! Come on, man. It's not that deep.”

Daryl gritted his teeth as he opened up the driver's side door of the truck, throwing his bag into the back before climbing inside. He started up the truck and revved the engine, a warning sign to Zach that he was about to leave, with or without him.

Zach hurriedly scurried into the passenger seat, barely having time to close the door before Daryl started speeding off. He gripped the edge of his seat, sending Daryl an exasperated look.

“Daryl, what the hell? Calm down!” he exclaimed, unnerved by the archer's sudden burst of fury. He'd seen Daryl angry before, but it was never directed towards him. It was downright scary.

“'M calm,” Daryl replied through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“That's what you call calm?!” Zach exclaimed, motioning out towards the road. “You're driving like a maniac! Slow down!”

Daryl simply ignored the man, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Memories of you unwillingly flooded his mind. Memories of your smile, your laugh and your beautiful eyes. Memories of the calm mornings you'd spend with the archer in your shared sad excuse for an apartment where the hot water was a joke. Memories where you'd both stand under the cold water of the shower, Daryl embracing you from behind in an attempt to make the cold water bearable for you. Memories of your loving touch on his skin, your fingers lightly tracing over the scars on his back as you whispered reassuring things into his ear, assuring him that his father's abuse had nothing to do with him, that it wasn't his fault that any of that happened to him.

The more Daryl's mind wandered, the more he remembered some of the bad memories. All those arguments you had with him over some of his escapades with Merle, telling him that it would only get him into trouble, flooded his mind. One of those arguments ended up being the reason he got seperated from you in the first place.

Merle had wanted to go do some drug deal and had barged into your apartment, practically dragging Daryl from your bed. You had begged him not to go, arguing with him that it was a bad idea and that something would go wrong this time. He remembered being so angry at you for insisting during that argument that Merle wasn't good for him, that he needed to cut back on seeing him or set some boundaries with him. He had stormed out of the apartment without so much as a goodbye, and now he regretted it more than he's regretted anything before in his life.

Daryl blamed himself daily for not having listened to you that day. If he had, he never would've been seperated from you and you would've been safe by his side. He longed to have you by his side again, to tell you that he was sorry and that he loved you. However, even after all this time of searching, going out for extended periods of time to look for signs of you, it was to no avail. You were gone, and it was all his fault.

“Daryl? Are... you okay?”

Daryl snapped back to reality at the sound of Zach's concerned voice. He felt a droplet of water roll down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, realising that he was crying. He hadn't even realised that tears had started to well up in his eyes, so immersed was he in his own thoughts.

“'M fine,” Daryl insisted, wiping his eyes hurriedly as he willed the tears away.

Zach furrowed his eyebrows, before realisation dawned on him. “You did have a girl before all of this. You lost her, didn't you?” he asked sympathetically.

Daryl hesitantly nodded, swallowing in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I didn't lose her,” he began, bringing the truck to a halt in front of the prison gates as he waited for someone to open them.

“I don't know if she's even dead at all. She's just... Gone.”

—

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Glenn asked Carol as they scanned over the shelving of an abandoned pharmacy, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Carol sighed as she looked upon yet another empty shelf, its medical contents a thing of the past. “Anything medical. With all the new people we've been taking in, the supplies we have aren't going to be enough.”

“Okay,” Glenn drawled hesitantly. “But it doesn't look like there's anything worth scavenging here.”

“Let's just do a once over before we check the back. If there's nothing, we head on back. It's getting late,” Carol instructed. Glenn nodded, and the two of them dispersed to sweep through the small store once more.

“So,” Glenn started. “Is it just me, or has Daryl been more grumpy than usual?”

Carol hummed in agreement. “He has. He gets angry at the smallest of things lately.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” Carol said, shaking her head. “I've asked him, but he won't say anything. Just tells me to mind my own business. It's really odd. He's more like he was back at the quarry. More closed off and snappy and I don't know why.”

“It's ever since he came back from that run with Zach a week ago,” Glenn replied, meeting up with the Carol again to go into the back room. “I've asked Zach if he knows why, but he refused to say anything. Says it's not his place to say.”

Carol frowned, opening the door that lead into the back room. “That's odd. So that means something—”

“Stay right there. Don't move another inch or I swear to god I'll shoot.”

Both Carol and Glenn froze in their tracks. They looked up and locked eyes with a woman, who's eyes were fiery as they darted between them.

“Names. Now. And weapons on the ground.”

“Okay, alright,” Carol responded, trying to diffuse the situation. She slowly lowered her gun and knife to the ground, urging Glenn to do the same. “I'm Carol, and this is Glenn. Now before we answer anymore questions, what's your name?”

The woman hesitated for a moment. “Y/n. What are you doing here?”

“We were looking for some supplies,” Carol spoke truthfully, eyeing the gun aimed at her carefully. “We're running low on medical things.”

After a couple of long, tense moments, with you scanning them from head to toe, you nodded to yourself after spotting something. Deciding to trust them for now, you slowly lowered the gun. However, you quietly hissed in pain, quickly clutching your side as you stumbled to regain your balance. After you steadied yourself, you limped over to your bag and grabbed a few things before handing them over to Carol and Glenn.

“Here. Hope these help. The place was ransacked when I got here. Wasn't a lot left to clear out.”

“Thank you, but we need more than this. This isn't going to last us long,” Carol responded, placing the items into her bag.

“No offence, lady, but I think I need the supplies more than you do at the moment. And I gave you more than half already. I can't spare more,” you said, clutching your side tightly.

“What happened?” Glenn asked, pointing to the your side, unable to stop his curiosity from seeping through.

“Flesh eaters,” you replied nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I was fighting a bunch of them when one lunged at me from the side. It toppled me through a broken window, and a shard sliced me.”

“Don't you have a group? Couldn't they help you?” Glenn questioned.

“Nope. I've been on my own since this whole thing started. I guess I should probably find a group, though. Things like this wouldn't happen if I had backup.”

You gingerly lifted your shirt, and both Carol and Glenn grimaced at the painful sight. The wound was deep and oozing blood. It would definitely need stitches, as well as someone to remove the remaining fragments of glass that still painfully stuck out of the wound. It was terrible. You wouldn't be able to get it all out without a professional.

Suddenly, an idea struck Carol. “You gave us some of the supplies you scavenged without even knowing us. Why?”

“Well, you didn't try to kill me, even after I held you at gunpoint. And by the looks of it, you guys have a group and are set up somewhere. Figured I should do the honourable thing and offer up some medical things if there's kids involved.”

“How do you know there's kids?” Glenn asked, confused.

“I can see the toys in your bag,” you pointed out, motioning to the toy truck that stuck out of the top of his bag. “Figured that adults wouldn't be playing with toy trucks while the world was ending.”

“Still, why would you? You don't owe us anything,” Carol questioned, though her mind was already set on one thing.

“Some might call me naive, but I hope that by doing some good in this fucked up world, karma will decide to do something good for me. That probably makes me stupid as shit, huh?” you replied, laughing before wincing at the pain that shot through your side at the small action.

Carol smiled at you. “We have a group set up not too far from here, at the prison. You can join if you want, but you have to answer three questions first.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Three questions? That's it?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Alright, shoot.”

“How many walkers have you killed?” Carol began, watching you closely.

“A lot. Too many to keep track of at this point.”

“How many people have you killed?”

You hesitated for a moment, guilt creeping up on you. “Three.”

“Why?”

“Two of them were bit. They asked me to kill them. The other one... That bastard tried to rape me. I wouldn't let him.”

“I'm sorry,” Glenn said sympathetically.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you waved him off, before turning your attention back to Carol. “How'd I do? Satisfactory enough?”

Carol nodded. “For me, yes. You'll still need to meet the leader and have him evaluate you, but I think you'll be alright. You'll fit in just fine.”

“Hopefully,” you laughed nervously, instantly paying the price for it with a sharp pain shooting up your side, making you visibly wince.

“Come on, let's get going. We have a doctor who can get that checked out for you,” Glenn prompted. He walked over to you and grabbed your bag, stopping your protest instantly. “It's fine, I've got it. One extra bag won't kill me.”

Together, all of you made your way out of the pharmacy and over to their car. You got settled in the back while Carol and Glenn got into the front, and before long you were setting off to the prison. Your eyes were beginning to droop, but Glenn seemed eager to get to know the new recruit better.

“What were you doing out there on your own anyway?”

“I was looking for my boyfriend. I was hoping that he might still be alive.”

“No luck?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, pursing your lips. “I'm beginning to think I might never find him, if he's even still alive.”

“Never say never,” Glenn encouraged you. “You'll find him someday, I know it.”

“I really hope so.”

—

“Have you seen that new chick Glenn and Carol brought back? She's a real looker.”

“I know, right? You think she's into blondes?”

“Even if she was, I doubt she'd go for your scrawny ass.”

“Easy, boys. She might not even be into guys. I could have a shot with her for all you know.”

Daryl groaned inwardly as he entered the cellblock. The new girl that Glenn and Carol brought in the day before was seemingly the hottest topic of discussion amongst everyone and he couldn't escape it, no matter where he tried to run to. Nobody, apart from Glenn, Carol, Rick and Hershel have officially met her, yet everybody had seemingly already formed an opinion about her. Although there were a lot of different opinions, everyone seemingly agreed on one thing; the new girl was hotter than hell.

Daryl was the only guy in the entire prison that hadn't seen her yet. He was out hunting when Carol and Glenn brought her back and he hasn't bothered to go out of his way to introduce himself to her ever since he got back. He'd meet her soon enough and he wasn't hoping to make friends with her. The more people he managed to keep at arm's length, the better.

“Yo, Daryl. What do you think about the new chick?” a guy called Mitchell asked him, snapping him from his thoughts.

Daryl shrugged. “Ain't met her yet,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but have you seen her?” another guy called Ronnie asked. “I'm telling you, man, hotter than the sun on a summer day. I'm hoping she'll let me hit at least once.”

“How 'bout ya leave the poor girl alone?” Daryl snapped, turning to face the group that was walking with him. “She ain't even been here two days and y'all are already ogling her like she's some prize to be won. Have some more respect.”

“Jeez,” Mitchell whistled. “What's got your panties up in a bunch?”

“Nothin',” Daryl muttered angrily, turning around to walk further into the cellblock. “Jus' wanna get this fuckin' job done and all y'all can do is yap 'bout some girl ya dun' even know properly. I dun' give two flyin' shits 'bout who or wha' ya talk 'bout, but do it after the job's done. Y'all ain't free loadin' here. Do yer job, earn yer keep.”

“Sorry,” a girl called Ariana muttered, sending him an apologetic look. “What do you need us to do?”

“Take those planks over there and take em to the guard tower. Rick wants to fortify it and wants it done by the end of the week.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ronnie asked, crossing his arms as he sized Daryl up.

Daryl glared at him and squared his shoulders, looking down on his shorter, scrawny frame. “Hershel needs help with somethin'. I believe ya can understand tha' if the doctor needs somethin' done, it's considered top priority?”

Ronnie shrunk under Daryl's intense glare, nodding quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great.”

With that, Daryl turned on his heel and set off to find Hershel. He didn't have to search far, however, because Hershel halted him before he could go outside.

“Daryl, over here,” the old man called after him, halting him in his tracks.

Daryl turned and walked over to Hershel, nodding at him respectfully. “Wha' ya need, Doc?”

“I'm sure you've heard of the girl Carol and Glenn brought back yesterday by now?” Hershel questioned, chuckling at the slight groan Daryl emitted.

“Who hasn't? Apparently she's really good lookin'. Her looks has been all people has to say 'bout her.”

Hershel nodded. “Unfortunately, that is true. Only Rick, Glenn, Carol and myself has had the pleasure of meeting her personally up until this point. She's a lovely woman. Had no problem that there wasn't anything to ease the pain when I had to stitch her side and she's more than willing to get up and start working to earn her keep. She won't be able to for at least another day or so since her side needs to heal up a bit first, but Carol and Glenn did good with bringing her back. She'll fit right in.”

“Good,” Daryl nodded. “She a good fighter?”

“From what I understand, she's been out on her own since the beginning. She's not dead yet, so I'd say she's alright,” Hershel replied, adjusting on his crutches.

“Alrigh', now enough 'bout her. Wha' did ya need me to do?”

Hershel gave him an encouraging pat on the back, confusing the archer. “You're going to be one of the very few people who gets to say they met the new girl for the next couple of days. I was hoping you could help her fix her bunk? One of the legs on the bunk broke and she's dead set on repairing it. She won't let me help because she keeps insisting I've done enough for her, so I told her I would send someone else to help. She'll be expecting you.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, parting ways with the older man. He walked over to the cell that Hershel had pointed towards and stopped at the doorway, hesitating to make his presence known.

You had your back turned towards the door, hunched over as you inspected the leg of the bunk. You weren't aware of the archer that stood a few feet behind you, engrossed entirely in your own thoughts. That was, until he spoke up behind you.

“Hey. Hershel said ya needed help?”

You froze at the voice, willing the supposed hallucination away. You slowly rose to your feet and turned, locking eyes with the one person you've been searching for since the world went to hell—your boyfriend, Daryl Dixon.

The moment Daryl locked eyes with you, a whirlwind of emotions flooded his being. Relief, love, happiness, wonder, sadness, confusion and so much more that he couldn't decipher. Although his first instinct was to wrap you in his arms and never let go of you again, he hesitated, refusing to believe you were real. He took a step back, his eyes wide as he looked at you.

You stared back at him with equal amounts of disbelief. You took a hesitant step forward. “Daryl?” you whispered. The man in front of you looked slightly different; a little bit older and his hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. The man in front of you was Daryl.

Daryl remained silent, his eyes locked on you as you continued to take agonizingly slow steps towards him. He watched as you stopped in front of him and hesitantly raised your hand, bringing it to rest on his cheek. Daryl instantly melted into your familiar soft touch, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Without another thought, he gently grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, tightly clinging to you as he pressed multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“Yer real,” he whispered, a laugh of amazement falling from his lips. “Yer real. Yer alive. Yer actually still alive.”

You laughed quietly against his chest as you held onto him tightly, never wanting to let go ever again. Your laughter soon turned into sobs, tears of relief and happiness falling from your eyes.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” you whispered through your tears, burying your face into his chest. “I thought you were dead, Dar.”

“'M here,” he whispered into your ear, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes. “'M alive. Yer alive. 'M never lettin' ya go ever again. 'M sorry I ever left tha' day in the first place.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I never should've asked you to cut Merle out of your life. He's your brother. It was unreasonable of me.”

“Nah, it wasn't,” he denied, placing another gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Ya were jus' lookin' out fer me. I never shoulda gotten mad at ya in the first place.”

“Let bygones be bygones?” you whispered against his chest.

Daryl chuckled before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

The two of you held onto each other for a couple of moments longer until you pulled back. Daryl was about to voice his protest until you pressed your lips against his in an urgent kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms settled on your waist, pulling you closer into him as he kissed you back. There was no lustful hunger behind the kiss—there was only love and longing, two broken parts finally reuniting and mending together as one.

Daryl pulled back and placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “I missed ya so much,” he whispered, willing the lump in his throat to go away.

“I missed you too. More than you even know,” you replied, cupping Daryl's cheek with one of your hands. “But I found you. I finally found you.”

Daryl leaned into your touch before turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. However, he soon pulled away from you and strode over to your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“C'mon,” he said, taking your hand in his as he pulled you to walk beside him.

“Where are we going?” you questioned, falling into step beside the man you loved.

“There ain't no need fer ya to sleep in there. Yer gonna sleep with me in my cell,” Daryl said simply, pulling you along to his cell.

You giggled but said nothing, silently following him into his cell. When he placed your bags down on the floor, Daryl placed a soft kiss on your lips before stalking out of the cell.

“Where are you going?” you called after him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“'M gonna find tha' prick who objectified ya and teach him a lesson. Yer hot as fuck, yes, that much I can accept people sayin', but Ronnie implied he wanted to sleep with ya outrigh'. He's really gonna regret sayin' tha' in a few moments. Dun' even try to talk me outta it.”

“Hey, Dar?” you called after him, halting him in his tracks. “I love you.”

Daryl smiled at you. “I definitely love ya more.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

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hollowdeath · 7 months

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Okay I was thinking of writing this myself but like Harry and his crush (who's a talented Potions witch) brews up an aphrodisiac potion into the form of a vapor (inhaled through like an atomizer) and she wants to test it with her best friend (crush lmao) Harry. Idea is a WIP but if you could use it for a smut piece I wouldn't complain 🫣🫣 LOVE YOUR WORK OMFG

Thank you loveee! ❤️

AAAAA thank you for requesting this!!! ive been wanting to write something like this for a while so you gave me the perfect excuse to try it out :D you're the best!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you and harry have been working on a project involving amortentia, the most powerful love potion to exist, and when harry tests your device the night before it's due, he has some rather intense side effects.

cw: smut!!! dom!harry, fingering, penetration, breeding

word count: 6k

you and harry had spent the entire semester working together on a project that challenged you to create a new form of an old potion. rather than settling for the obvious ideas like turning felix felicis into gummy candies, you and harry had decided to try something a bit more complex.

you knew right away you wanted to work with amortentia more closely, as you had always been fascinated by the potion and its powerful properties, and harry was more than willing to let you take the reins of the project. he gave insight when he could, and spent a fair amount of time helping you figure out the more complicated steps of the process, but he honestly just loved sitting back and watching you work your magic. literally.

you were by far the most knowledgeable student when it came to potions, and undoubtedly one of the smartest witches harry had ever met. he considered himself lucky that you two had already formed a friendship prior to taking potions together, allowing him to pair up with the most sought after partner in the entire class. more than just your knowledge and skill, harry was just excited to be your partner so he could know you better and see how your mind works.

you were excited to work with harry as well, but not to collaborate on potions and fiddle with mechanics you could never understand. you had looked forward to sitting close to him, reading from the same books, talking for hours, and watching his eyes intently focus as he prepared the ingredients for you. of course you two were friends more than anything, and you never considered yourself one of those girls who would fawn over harry for doing absolutely nothing, but working with him so intimately for the entire semester really made you see him differently. he was funny, he was smart, he remembered every little thing about you, and he always brought you snacks when you were working together. it didn't help that you found him absolutely adorable in big sweaters with messy hair, or felt your heart race when he looked at you from over his glasses, or couldn't keep your eyes off his hands when he was helping you put together your atomizer.

speaking of, your project had actually turned out extremely well for the little experience either of you had in engineering such a device. it was a small, handheld diffuser that transformed liquid amortentia, as well as a mix of other potent aphrodisiacs, into a vapor that could be inhaled for the full effect. harry had actually been the one to suggest the idea, trying to figure out a better way to ingest the mixture while still altering its state. you thought it was brilliant, and were surprised at how smooth the process turned out to be.

however, the presentation for the project was tomorrow morning, and you were still fiddling with a few of the mechanics to get it to work just right. it was hard to know when it was fully finished since testing the product wasn't exactly practical, as the effects would have anyone distracted and unable to focus within seconds of inhaling it. you were a bit frustrated sitting alone at your table in the potions lab, a single light above you as the sun had long since set and night took over. your head was in your hands, staring at the atomizer in front of you, wondering if you should just take the chance and test it since you were alone in the classroom.

just as you were convincing yourself, you heard the door creak open to your right, causing you to jump in your seat. you couldn't make out who was there ar first as your eyes were still adjusting to the dark room around you. you hadn't expected anyone to come in anyway, mostly because it was past curfew and, frankly, who would want to spend their time in the potions lab on a sunday evening?

but, as the figure walked closer to you, you noticed it was harry dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt with his slippers scraping across the wooden floors. "harry," you breathed a sigh of relief, your hand resting on your chest. "you scared the piss out of me." you say with a laugh.

harry chuckles, and you notice he's carrying his invisibility robe in one hand, half of his arm disappearing beneath it. "sorry, figured there'd be no one in here," he says with a sleepy voice, setting the robe over his own chair, making it disappear as well.

you sigh, setting your head back in your hands and leaning your elbows on the table. "it's okay, i probably shouldn't be here anyways. this thing has me seeing red, and not in a good way." you complain. harry laughs again, making his way next to you and under the light. your stomach drops at how soft he looks, his hair messy, cheeks flushed, deep voice quietly chuckling as he leans on the table beside you.

"yeah, well, i couldn't sleep knowing it wasn't perfect as well," harry tells you, his eyes fixated on the device. "not that slughorn would notice either way, but…" he trails off, making you crack a smile and chuckle as well.

harry looks down at you, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. "i just know how much it means to you." he says.

you feel yourself blushing and quickly begin changing the subject. "w-well, i think i've got it most of the way there, it's just, um…" you say nervously, picking up the cylindrical vaporizer and examining it in your hands once again.

"just…?" harry provokes.

you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head as you pass the device back and forth between your hands. "just…that, um, it still needs to be tested, i guess, to see the full effects, y'know?" you try to explain without stumbling over your thoughts.

harry understands what you mean and nods his head slowly. "oh, right…" he says a bit nervously as well, pushing himself off the table to stand up straight and clear his throat.

an awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment as you continue to roll the vaporizer between your fingers. "yeah…" you trail off once again.

harry nervously chuckles, breaking the silence and making you laugh at the sudden tension. "well, then, hand it over i guess." harry casually requests, holding his hand out to you.

you look up at harry in confusion, your eyebrows pinched together as you examine his lighthearted expression. "harry," you try to find your words, feeling yourself still blushing under his gaze. "are you mad? you can't just test this out randomly." you try to explain to him.

harry shakes his head, his own eyebrows pinching together as he lets out an amused laugh. "why not? it can't be that strong," he shrugs.

you give harry another incredulous look, utterly confused at his nonchalant attitude. "are you kidding? this potion is composed of some of the most potent aphrodisiacs in the world, and inhaling them should only intensify the effects…theoretically," you add the last part in a hopeful tone, turning your attention back to the device in your hands.

harry just extends his hand out further, nearly touching yours. "well, we'll never know if we don't test it, now will we?" he asks with a smirk. you hesitate for another moment, still looking down at your hands. of course you were insanely curious about the effects of the project you spent weeks sweating over, and certainly would feel better knowing it actually works as intended before having to present it to the class tomorrow. but you were worried it could affect harry negatively, or that he could have a bad reaction to it, and you weren't sure if you could take that risk.

"just trust me, [y/n]. i can handle it." harry reassures you once more, his voice warm and familiar.

you sigh, carefully handing over the device to harry and leaning back in your chair. he smiles at you, taking one more look at the design of the vaporizer in his hands before bringing the mouthpiece up to his lips and inhaling the mixture. harry holds his breath for a moment before blowing out the vapor slowly, the clouds surrounding him under the dim lighting in a way that makes your heart stop. he looks ethereal with the billowing vapor coming from his lips and nostrils, a soft smile pinching his cheeks.

"tastes amazing," harry observes, taking another look at the design as the vapor fades into the air.

you wait for a few seconds, looking for any sign of behavioral changes in harry as he continues to rotate the device in his fingers. "well?" you ask in a hopeful tone.

harry looks down at you, and for a split second, you swear his pupils expand to the size of his iris before shrinking back to their normal size, blinking rapidly as they do. harry sets the device down and looks away from you, his neck jerking to the side and his knuckles clenching.

"harry?" you ask, concerned, standing from your seat and reaching for harry's shoulder. before you can touch him he jerks away, making a frustrated groaning sound as he did. you're still concerned, but mostly confused as harry's hands reach for the edge of the table and grip it so hard his veins are pulsing. his breathing is ragged and heavy, nearly growling as he tries to steady it. you're momentarily distracted before harry attempts to speak to you.

"it works," he barks out, his voice strained and impatient. you're taken aback at his aggressive change in tone. "what?" you ask again, trying again to reach for his shoulder. "harry, are you okay?"

just as you make contact with his sweatshirt, harry's legs go limp beneath him as he sinks to his knees. his breathing gets heavier as he lets out a pained groan, trying his best to stand up and let go of the table for support. "just," he says between panting breaths. "i have to go," he abruptly turns and tries to leave, his hands grabbing at his hair and face as he stumbles away.

"harry," you call after him. "what's happening? are you okay? is it hurting you?" you try to get some insight on what harry's experiencing, but he keeps shaking his head as he tries to make his way to the door.

"harry!" you finally snap, stepping away from the table. harry stops in his tracks. "our presentation is in 6 hours and you said you could handle the effects. now, i need to know what they are or else i'm testing it out myself." you demand angrily, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

harry turns to you but doesn't dare look at you, his body hunched over as if he's in pain. his hands are still rubbing at his eyes and he seems to be wiping away sweat on his forehead every other second.

"look, [y/n]," harry snaps back. you're again taken aback by his tone; you've never heard his voice so dark and foreboding before, and the sound of him practically growling your name has your mind racing. "i told you it works, okay? isn't that what you wanted?" his words are rushed, as if he's still trying to leave when you have so many questions that need answered.

"i need to know specifics, harry. what does it feel like? was there any physical response? how strong is it? i mean, you really can't let me ask a few questions about something we've been working on for weeks?" you ask.

harry frustratedly walks towards you, his wide strides making you step back towards the table in anticipation. his fists are balled at his sides, his eyes still pointed at the ground. "you wanna know what it feels like?" his voice bellows in the empty classroom, causing you to jump and gasp. you didn't want any prefects to hear you two in the lab and then have to explain why harry was in such a state.

harry comes closer to you, backing you against the table as his eyes stay fixed downward. "you wanna know how i feel, [y/n]?" he asks again, his voice less angry and more impatient, feeling his hot breath fall across your skin. again, hearing him spit your name at you so aggressively only made your mind race faster. you could hardly speak, so you just nodded your head anxiously, still attempting to put more space between you and harry.

for a while only harry's heavy breathing fills the room. you can see his hands still clenched at his sides, nearly shaking from the amount of pressure they're under. just as you're about to turn your head away from the tense moment, harry's eyes meet yours. you gasp again, this time at just how dark they had become since first looking away from you.

harry smirks evilly at your shock, his hands quickly grasping the edge of the table behind you, bringing his body even closer to yours. you were feeling such a rush of every emotion possible it was hard to tell what exactly you were feeling; all you knew is you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs despite fear making your heart race.

"i feel like i could tear you apart." harry's words drip with venom, his body leaning further into yours. you let out a shaky breath, your feet still trying to back up despite the table stopping you. "and i feel like you would let me." harry teases, his smirk growing.

you let out an involuntary squeal as harry's face comes closer to yours, turning away to avoid his eyes. "h-harry–" you try to protest, but he turns your chin back to him before you can finish.

"wouldn't you?" harry asks with a knowing tone.

you try to turn away again but harry doesn't let you, instead only bringing your lips closer to his as his hand fixes itself around your jaw tightly. you struggle a bit in his grasp but he isn't letting you go.

"i see the way you watch me, pretty girl. you may be smart but you're not very clever." harry's lips barely graze yours as he talks, his breath overwhelming your senses as he continues to stare into your eyes. "you'd love for me to tell you all the filthy thoughts running through my head about you right now, wouldn't you, darling? want me to describe every scenario, every position, every sound that comes from these pretty lips?" harry's thumb raises from your chin to your bottom lip as he swipes it across the soft skin.

you're speechless at his blunt attitude, your legs shaking beneath you as you try your best to continue standing. your mind is a mess trying to understand his response. you knew the vapor would be powerful, but you had no idea harry would react like this. you weren't exactly complaining, it was just so out of character for him to be so suggestive and upfront with his desires, let alone his apparent desire for you.

you clear your throat, trying to gain the confidence to formulate an answer to his question. "h-harry, it's the vapor, y-you're not yourself," you try to explain, your voice getting caught. "just…just sit down a-and we can talk about the side effects."

harry's grip on your jaw tightens more, making you wince slightly.

harry pulls away from your face, his eyes still boring into yours hungrily. his glasses are slightly fogged from how close he was to you, but his blown pupils were still clearly visible. he's looking down at you, smirking, chuckling at your pained expression. "you never answered my questions, if i remember correctly."

you can hardly continue keeping eye contact with harry as you felt your cheeks completely flushed and heart racing beneath his grasp. you were trying to keep it together knowing he was under the effects of a powerful potion, but part of you has wanted this for so long it only feels right to let harry have what he seems to want as well. i mean, that's what friends are for, right?

still squirming under the weight of his body against yours, harry grows impatient as he lets his clothed erection just barely rub against your thigh, enough to get your attention. your eyes widen, and harry smiles in satisfaction, humming at your response. you let your body relax despite your thumping heartbeat and rapid breathing, feeling yourself lean into harry as well.

harry hums again with his eyes tracing over every part of your face like he's trying to memorize it. "hmm, that's what i thought. now, tell me, pretty girl," harry starts, his hand tilting your head up to face him more. "what do you want?"

his question left you speechless once again. you didn't expect harry to consider your feelings in the matter; not that it made any difference anyway, you've wanted him just as bad for a long time now. but you were conflicted, was harry actually attracted to you, or would the potion make him act this way towards anybody? would it be wrong of you to encourage his behavior knowing he was under the influence of a potion? did any of that even matter with harry's throbbing erection pressed against you?

rather than answering harry's question, you took a chance and reached for his shoulders to help steady yourself before pressing your lips against his. harry moans into your mouth at the feeling, his grip on your jaw loosening but still holding you in place. his other hand snakes around from the edge of the table to your ass, hungrily grabbing for it and making you gasp.

harry takes this chance to shove his tongue past your lips, pushing you back against the table once more. in one swift motion he lifts your ass onto the tabletop, sitting you down in front of him. both of his hands go to the hem of your shirt, which you help him take off quickly. his lips attached to your neck, his hands already wrapped around your waist, and you nervously watched the door behind harry to make sure no one catches you two.

you start pulling at harry's sweatshirt and he rips it off before you even have the chance to help him. his skin is hot to the touch, and his hair's becoming damp with sweat. "harry," you say shakily as he's leaving a bruise on the side of your neck with his teeth. "you're so warm,"

pulling away and admiring the fresh red mark he's left on you, harry has a slight smirk on his swollen lips, "you should feel my heart," he says with a chuckle, guiding one of your hands to his warm chest. you can immediately feel his racing heart just beneath your fingertips, beating at a pace that couldn't be healthy for him.

you try to protest, but harry just gives you another hungry but short kiss. "i'm fine, [y/n]. i'm better than fine. it's like every inhibition i've ever had is gone, and it feels amazing. i'm sorry if i've been a bit strong, but, if you could see what i'm thinking, you'd actually be a bit impressed with my restraint…" harry voice is softer this time, his hands finding their way to your back, fiddling with the clasps on your bra. his lips wander from your ear down to your shoulder, sending a chill down your spine.

once harry has your bra undone, he looks back at you for confirmation. you eagerly help him remove it from you, throwing it to the side as harry's eyes become fixated on your chest. "fucking hell, [y/n]." harry curses under his breath before his hands cup your boobs aggressively, making you whimper in response.

it doesn't take long before harry has to press his lips against the soft skin of your tits, with his teeth following not far behind. you instinctively bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds you can't hold back, but harry isn't having any of it. he gives you a stern look before grabbing your wrist and placing your hand in his messy hair. "let me hear you." he states, his voice dark and commanding once again.

once harry's lips and tongue find their way to your nipples, you can't help but start to melt in his hands. whiny moans, gasps, and occasional curses fall from your lips watching harry's eyes flutter close as he enjoys pleasing you. your fingers become entangled in his hair, holding him closer to your chest.

however, harry soon grows impatient again, and your filthy noises certainly didn't help him.

he pulls you down from the table, making sure you're able to stand before quickly turning you around and pressing his erection against your ass. you moan at the feeling and grind against him, making harry's grip on your waist tighten as he lets out his own strangled moan.

you help harry remove your pants as his come off as well. only left in your underwear, harry's arms wrap around you from behind, his fingers softly running across the wet fabric covering your pussy. "fuck," he breathes against your ear, his other arm wrapping across your chest and bringing you further into him. "i need you."

harry's desperate tone sends another shiver across your skin, your mind practically short circuiting at the thought of him wanting you so badly.

harry bends you over the table, his chest against your back as he leaves rushed kisses along the nape of your neck. the cold surface of the lab table makes you gasp, your nipples hardening at the sensation.

"now," harry says, leaving one more kiss just under your ear. "what i want you to do," he continues, reaching for your open notebook across the table as well as your pen. "is be a good potions student, and write down my symptoms." he tells you as he sets the notebook in front of you and hands you the pen. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

you're a bit confused and nearly about to protest when you feel harry's fingers hook under your panties and pull them down hastily. you try to look back at him, but a hand quickly grabs your hair from behind and forces you to look back at your notes. "follow the rules, darling." harry's deep voice instructs you with a hint of a threat behind his words.

harry's grip on your hair only makes your pussy throb more. you can feel his other hand resting on the back of your thigh, his fingers running along the wet folds of your pussy, humming to himself at the warm feeling. just as you're about to start writing, you can feel harry slowly pushing a finger inside of you. your moan is strained at the unfamiliar feeling, but harry's tight grip in your hair loosens as he begins to comfort you. "just relax and let me take care of it, baby."

if you weren't wet before you certainly were now. your knees were weakening beneath you, forcing you to lean into the table for more support. you relaxed your body and breathed evenly, trying to shift your focus to the notes in front of you instead. your handwriting is shaky and uneven, biting your lip in an attempt to distract yourself from the desperate feeling growing inside you.

"go on, tell me what you wrote." harry teases. you groan in protest but attempt to speak anyway. "r-rapid, heartbeat," you manage to say before you start writing the next symptom. "d–" you try to speak, but you gasp as harry introduces another finger into your aching pussy.

harry chuckles, tightening his grip in your hair. "hm?" he asks, waiting for you to continue. you try to hold back your moans as you look back down at your notes, your eyes attempting to focus on your writing. "d-dilated…pupils…" you trail off, your eyes rolling back as harry's fingers thrust deeper into you. you can hardly keep your moaning under control and harry's loving every second of it.

"lack of…inhibitions," you breathe out, your handwriting barely legible the more you write. harry deep chuckle from behind you only distracts you further. your stomach is tight and your legs can barely hold you up anymore as you feel your high begin to build. just as it does, harry removes his fingers and leaves you feeling empty.

before you can whine, harry lets go of his grip on your hair and instead grabs your shoulders, pulling you up from the table a bit. holding yourself up with your arms, harry separates your feet with his. you can feel the head of his cock grinding against your wetness from behind.

harry's fingers end up in your mouth, making you taste yourself as he forces your head back to look at him. his eyes are entirely dark, no longer the inviting shades of blue you're so accustomed to. his smirk is evil, and his hair is sticking to his forehead from the excessive sweating. "i want to watch you take me." harry's voice is darker than his eyes, a cold, demanding force that takes what it needs.

with his fingers still holding your mouth open, you let out a pained moan at the overwhelming feeling of harry's cock pushing inside of you. despite his aggressive demeanor, harry remains gentle with you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling and carefully watching your expression. his eyes are practically sparkling with lust watching you lose yourself in the feeling of being filled by his cock.

"fuck," harry curses under his breath again. his other hand grabs for your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like you're the only thing keeping him standing. "feel so good, darling." harry places a messy kiss on your forehead before he begins thrusting into you again, slowly, enjoying every second he's inside of you.

you're nearly crying out in pleasure and desperation with the pathetic sounds coming from you. you can hardly move against harry's grasp, not that you were complaining, but you just needed more or else you would go insane.

you attempt to push your hips back to make harry get the message, and the smirk on his face tells you he got it right away. once he starts thrusting into you quicker, your mind goes blank. you can feel the drool start to drip out of your mouth and over harry's fingers, even down to your chest and the table top. harry is groaning at the sight of you becoming such a mess for him.

"looks like you needed this more than i did, hm?" harry teases, his lips so close to your ear you can feel them. you nod eagerly, your hands reaching for his arm holding your mouth open. you grip onto his forearm for stability, your eyes rolling back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure. he takes his fingers out of your mouth and instead holds your throat tightly. you gasp for air and wipe the drool from your lips.

soon both of your moans fill the room, the air sweaty and the table creaking beneath you. the fear of someone hearing you or getting caught no longer concerns you, if anything it just thrills you even more.

harry then reaches for your notes and pen again. you try hold the pen as well as you could. "i have one more symptom i want you to add," harry says between heavy breaths, becoming worn out and even more sweaty. you whine, but nod your head as you attempt to line your writing up with the rest.

you feel harry bend you further over the table, his chest hot against your back as he continues pounding into you. it's challenging trying to keep your eyes open and focused when you're completely blissed out with harry groaning in your ear.

"obsession," he hisses, his grip on your throat tightening as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

you try to write out the word, but you can hardly keep your hands steady. your stomach feels tight, your heart starts beating even faster, and you can feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm.

harry chuckles at your pathetic attempt at writing, but moves the notebook away anyway. "good girl." he commends you.

it's enough to bring you over the edge, your mouth dropping open with nasty sounds and eyes rolling back once more. harry groans into your ear as your pussy tightens around him, his thrusting becoming sloppy and tired.

"please," he breathes out just as you start coming down. "please, baby, can i cum inside you, please, please, i need it," harry's practically begging you, as if he even needed to ask.

"cum inside me, harry, please,"

"fuck," he moans again, his voice broken and needy. he's still desperately chasing his high, his hands sliding around to your stomach to feel himself pounding into you. "you're all mine, [y/n], all fucking mine." he growls into your ear. you could nearly cum again hearing harry fall apart behind you.

with a few more stuttering thrusts, harry cums inside you with another broken moan, bending you over the table again as his hands try to catch himself. his cock still fully inside you, you can feel his chest rising and falling on your back as he tries to catch his breath.

harry quickly gets off of you, almost in a rush. you turn to him and see his eyes are wide, his pupils shrinking back to their normal size, his hair nearly soaked in sweat. he tries his best to cover himself up, eventually grabbing for his pajama pants to put them back on. you're a bit lost at his reaction, hoping he didn't regret his actions so quickly.

"u-uhm, [y/n], i'm…i'm, so sorry," harry apologizes, his voice genuine and scared. he's wiping the sweat from his face, barely able to look at you. "i-i didn't mean for it to, f-for me to, um…" he's stumbling over his words, the same nervous harry you were so used to.

you smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest to cover yourself a bit as well. "what, you didn't mean to fuck me over our lab table?" you ask smugly. harry's cheeks are completely flushed but he's trying his best to hide that from you, his hands covering his face.

"stop." he simply says, his voice meek and quiet. you giggle to yourself and step closer to him, admiring how pretty his sweaty skin looks in the dim lighting.

"hey," you say to him, stopping only about a foot away, completely naked and still shaking a bit. you reach for harry's arm and tug at it, making him uncover his face. he still doesn't dare look at you. "look, it's okay. that potion was extremely powerful, and we didn't know what would happen. as long as you feel alright that's all that matters, yeah? and, y'know, we can still be friends, even if you regret it..." you add the last part quietly, your voice breaking a bit.

harry looks up at you with guilty eyes. he's a bit distracted by your bare skin, but he can't stop looking back into your eyes. "please, don't take this as regret," he says, his eyebrows raised sympathetically. "i-i just, that's not…" he sighs, frustrated, looking away from you again. "it wasn't supposed to happen that way, our first time. n-not that i've thought about it that much," harry nervously interrupts himself, making you giggle once more.

harry looks back at you, his eyes wandering down to your chest. "u-uhm, just, you…if we ever did, y'know…you'd just deserve so much better than that," he tries to explain himself while clearly flustered.

you laugh again. "harry, i clearly enjoyed myself just then, didn't i? i mean, i don't know how it could've been much better." you admit, still in a teasing tone.

harry reaches for your shirt on the floor and offers to help you put it on. as he does you notice his eyes lingering on your chest again. "yes, but, i would've at least liked for you to have a bed to be comfortable on…" he says, knocking his knuckles against the hard surface of the table.

you roll your eyes at harry and reach for your pants as well. "well, maybe we can plan better for next time." you say with a smirk as you slip them on. harry straightens up from grabbing his shirt and looks at you with wide eyes again. "next time?" he asks innocently. you swear you could take him again right then and there, but you hold yourself back. "yeah, next time. if you'd like that." you offer him.

harry gives you that same shy smile he always has, and can barely hold himself back as he steps towards you and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. it's different, not hungry or full of lust, but rather warm and comforting. he pulls away after a moment to look at you, admiring your face in the light. "i'd love to." he whispers to you.

after helping you pack your stuff and clean up the table, harry offers to walk you back to your room with the invisibility cloak. you accept his offer and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, covering you both and walking you out of the lab and down the hallway.

before he leaves you for the night, harry can't help but snag another kiss, still as soft and loving as before with his hand resting on your cheek. you giggle into his lips, laying your forehead on his. "goodnight, harry." you say to him, readjusting your bag with your notebooks. "goodnight, my love." he tells you, unwrapping you from the cloak and leaving you with a swish.

the next morning you two had barely slept, sitting in potions class with matching eye bags and flushed cheeks. you could hardly look at the side of the table you were just bent over last night, and noticed harry smirking anytime he turned his head that way as well. his hands were subtly bumping into yours, as well as his knees, trying anything to get your attention during the other presentations. you just gave him a look, but couldn't help smiling at his gestures.

when it was your turn to present, harry let you do most of the talking and admired how passionately you spoke about the process to create the device. slughorn was more than impressed with your skill and knowledge, and awarded you and harry with top marks for your vaporizer.

"would there be any way to test the device?" he had asked curiously, holding it between his hands and examining it. "no!" you nearly exclaimed, taking it from his hands before he could even try. slughorn gives you a surprised look, but harry pipes up from behind you. "it's entirely too powerful to just try it out casually, sir." he says.

slughorn's eyebrows pinch together. "how so?" he asks. you and harry exchange awkward looks, both blushing and chuckling to yourselves. harry takes the device from you and puts it in his own pocket.

"just trust me, sir."

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retroellie · 8 months

Text

The Other Woman

Summary: After seeing Lila kiss spencer in the pool, all reason leaves your body and creates a jealous mess inside your head. You can thing of only one way to dull the ache of jealousy.

A/N: This lowkey sucks but it's whatever :) I'm so unmotivated and my writers block is terrible omfg. I hope y'all enjoy though <3

Warnings: NSFW, cheating(ish), L*la, Mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected sex, unexperienced spencer, normal Criminal Minds stuff

Word count: 7.6K

Of course, you knew you were acting like a teenage girl, the petty silent treatment was straight of a high school romance. Reid was just trying to do his job, he was told to do something, and he did it. So, you shouldn't be angry. He was trying to prevent another victim; he was trying to protect Lila. Fucking Lila. If it were anyone else, then maybe you would just be able to forget it, but it wasn't someone else. It was her. It was hot blonde, breakout movie star Lila. Her and her perfect body, pretty face, long legs, her beautiful smile, and her money. She was everything a man could want, so what stopped Reid from wanting it too?

It made you uncomfortable in the first place, him being the one to stay with her. You asked Gideon if maybe Elle could do it or even Hotch, but he said since Lila and Spencer were somewhat friends, it would make her more comfortable. But what about you? What about your comfort? You decided to leave your pettiness out of your work, keep your jealousy to yourself, and catch the stalker so you could get out of here, go back to your stupid life with Reid.

You were already feeling sick enough about the entire thing, she could steal Reid from you in a heartbeat and all you could do was let her... But seeing him in the pool with her, her only in a bathing suit and him soaking wet. It played with your heartstrings, wondering everything that could've happened. Spencer couldn't look you in the eye, even after you asked him if he was okay. He just let out a small hum, looking down at his gun while he tried to dry it off. You knew something had happened; did you even want to know? You asked yourself.

You had no choice since Morgan shoved the camera in your face. The pictures of Lila and Spencer, her lips on his. 'Of course, she looked pretty when she hungrily made out with someone' you thought, rolling your eyes mentally. Spencer just watched your face, as it contorted into an unknown expression to him. He was a profiler, yet he could never read you...you were completely foreign to him. It intrigued him when he first met you, it frustrated him. Spencer Reid was a genius, he knew everything. So, him not knowing your brain frustrated him. That's exactly why he fell in love with you, he had to work to understand you and he ended up falling in love with you trying to figure you out.

Spencer opened his mouth to explain himself, but you dismissed it by explaining how you didn't think that the man who took the photos was the unsub. You explain how "he was too cocky and too visible; the unsub would have been more careful than the trespassing paparazzi." You did have a new lead however and you didn't hesitate before you ran off to go follow it. You just wanted to get away from Spencer, you needed to be away from him. You should have heard him out, you would've heard him out but as said before... It was Lila. Girls like her always got what they wanted; they didn't even have to fight for it either. So, you knew how this went, Spencer would leave you for her and you would have to work with him for the rest of your life knowing... you allowed him to be stolen.

You eventually caught the unsub, well Spencer did. It was one of Lila's friends, Maggie. She was desperately in love with Lila but Lila wasn't in love with her back, she killed her victims to show her love for Lila. You somehow understood how she felt as fucked up as it sounds. You understand why people kill for the people they love, how they would do anything just for the person they love. You could see yourself doing that for Spencer, it scared you of what you were willing to do for him. After Maggie had been caught, Hotch told the team to meet back at the local police departments to make their reports. However, you headed back to the hotel, stating that you had fallen sick to Hotch. Obviously hotch knew, he wasn't stupid and he didn't need to be a profiler to know what you were feeling. You were hurt.

So here you are now, in your hotel room... alone. You were writing your reports for other cases, completely neglecting the Lila case. In the state you were in, you couldn't even think of a blonde woman without the heartbreak sensation creeping up again. You hoped to do other cases, the most gruesome cases... The cases with blood and guts would help make that feeling go away or at least dissolve the lump in your throat. You felt like you were 16 again, watching as your prom date went into the bathroom with the popular girl. Your stomach sank as you saw him holding onto her hand, leading him into the biggest stall... all you could do was watch. You suddenly felt every stitch of your dress, all your organs working together, every light molecule on your skin. It was hell.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at your door, your heart dropping as it did. You would think of years of profiling psychopaths, you would be able to handle a knock at the door. For some reason that knock was the scariest thing to you. You sighed softly, putting the paperwork that was sprawled out on the hotel bed to the side and throwing yourself over the side of the bed. You walked to the door, the cold air of the hotel room making you shiver. Your hand touched the cold doorknob, pulling the door open and seeing a figure. Your eyes adjusted and soon you were met with his brown ones.

"Hi..." He said, giving you a soft smile.

"Hi." You said coldly.

It was an awkward encounter for sure, something that happens often but it's more comfortable than this. As of now, all you could think about was Spencer's face smashed up against hers. You were now hyper-aware of everything around you, feeling as though you could hear the colors making up the room. Spencer just stood there, hands in his pockets and giving you that strange grin.

"You weren't at the police station... Hotch told me you were feeling sick." He started, trying to pick up a conversation but for the first time since you met Spencer Reid... he was at a loss for words.

You nodded, confirming Hotch's statement. You could tell what he wanted to ask, so desperately. You were a profiler, you could tell by his fidgeting hand, his eye twitch, the way he couldn't make eye contact with you for more than 4 seconds... He was holding himself back. Spencer knew he did wrong, very wrong. Not only with you but professionally. You're not supposed to kiss a civilian you are told to keep watch on as a federal agent. It's inappropriate and wrong... but Reid could care less about that fact, the kiss meant nothing to him. He was more worried about you. You hadn't talked to him since you saw him in the pool with Lila, you didn't tell him you were going back to the hotel, you didn't even kiss him goodbye before you left Lilas. You bit your lip softly, playing with the flesh as you looked down at your feet.

"Uh yeah..." You started, looking back up at him. "Must have eaten something bad or something..."

Spencer didn't believe you, not for a second. He was never good with social cues but at this moment, he could read the situation better than anyone. However, Spencer has never been in a relationship before... you were his first everything. He'd never been exposed to the petty drama that comes with having a girlfriend, so he wasn't too sure how to go with this conversation. He knew he did wrong, but how does he go about communicating that with you? He doesn't want to make it seem like you're overreacting or you are stupid for being mad... damn, maybe he's overthinking it now. If Spencer Reid is good at anything though, it's statistics.

"You know..." He starts, about to go on one of his Reid rants. "Statistically, 58% of the time people don't actually have anything wrong with their stomach. Mostly it's more psychological than it is physical. Mostly caused by anxiety, guilt or anger."

You were used to these Reid rants at this point. Being with Spencer Reid for 2 years and knowing him for even longer, you have a lot of useless information in your brain that he has nonconsensually given you. You let that information sink into the part of your brain that you will most likely not return to, not even going to attempt to comprehend what number he had just given you. Your face automatically contorted itself into a look that said "Please shut up, leave me alone, and never perceive me again.".

"You think I'm lying?" You ask, not sure whether you're actually offended or it's because you can't get the picture of her kissing him out of your head.

It wasn't Spencer's intention to make you upset, no... that's not why he came here. He just knew that it was deeper than a stomach ache, he knew that your mind was going wild with possibilities and him knowing you, he knew you wouldn't say anything about it. Spencer knew why you did the work you did, he knew you couldn't solve your own problems so you decided to solve others. That's why Spencer didn't wait for you to come to him because he knew you never would. Spencer shook his head eagerly.

"No! no... of course not." He blurted out, looking everywhere but your eyes. "I'm just saying that i think the stomach ache your feeling isn't really a stomach ache... maybe it has something to do with the thing that happened with me and Lila."

The sound of her name sliding off his tongue sounded so frictionless... so effortless. It made you wonder if your name sounded the same, suddenly you forgot what your name sounded like coming out of his mouth. You shook that feeling off real quick, hoping if you pushed it down far enough it would simply go away. You weren't stupid though, you knew what pushing things down would do. It would turn you into something not human, or maybe something that is between a human and something else... it would turn you into Maggie or maybe even the hundreds of people you catch a year. It's funny how you can figure out another person's shit so fast, yet you are still wondering what your shit even is.

You sigh softly, rolling your eyes as you step away from the door and making your way to the small hotel "kitchen". The only thing the kitchen was good for was making coffee or tea, something that you have been living on for the past couple of years. You've found yourself purposely making it bad, the BAU will ruin you like that. You poured yourself some coffee, hearing Spencer walk in and shut the door behind him.

"Or maybe I just have a stomach ache." You say softly, putting the coffee pot back and then pouring pounds of sugar into your coffee. "Besides, it doesn't really matter anymore. The unsub was caught, Lilas safe... we did our job."

Spencer bites his lip nervously, watching you bring your coffee up to your lips and take a swig. As said before, Spencer isn't good with relationships or girls... or really anything that isn't statistics and books, so he isn't sure how to tell you that he is worried about you. He likes you, he'd probably go as far as to say he loves you and he doesn't want this to end. He knows that this will not end well, that your bottled-up emotions will be the end of your relationship. Spencer notices all the case reports scattered over your bed, seeing how you haven't even started on the most recent one... lilas.

"I read in one of my books about human relationships that most relationships end due to no com..." He starts, being interrupted by your tired, jealous self.

"Please, Spencer! enough with the statistics..." You spit, almost yelling... something you've never done to read. You turn to face him, coffee cup still in your hand, burning your skin. "Just spit out what you're trying to say to me."

Spencer gulps slightly, seeing how angry you've already become and you've only bottled this much hatred for less than a day. He knows you don't mean to yell, he knows it. He knows this job does this to a person, makes them angry... messes with their head until they are only a shell of themselves. Spencer adjusts himself, not sure what he is going to say but his plan is just to speak... hoping that the words will form as he does so. He licks his lips, taking in a breath and facing you finally.

"What happened between me and Lila..." He paused, gathering all the courage and breath he had left in this moment. "It meant nothing. I mean yeah we kissed, I mean she kissed me. I told her I had a girlfriend, multiple times. She still did it and I was shocked that I let it happen... but I felt nothing. I swear. And I know you don't want to talk about it, it's uncomfortable and it hurts you too, but I want to talk about it because it hurts me when I think it hurts you. This job can take whatever it wants from me... but I can't live with myself if I let it take you from me." He rambles out.

His breath gets heavy, all the oxygen from his lungs being taken from that single rant. He could've gone on, he wanted to go on but the look on your face made him stop. You looked even more hurt... or did you look relieved... Spencer couldn't tell, you were too hard to read for him. You couldn't explain the feeling either, it was a mix of everything. It was a mix of guilt and content... but most importantly, lust. The ramble had your face heating up and your underwear dampening. You shouldn't be feeling this way at this moment, no... not when your poor boyfriend just poured his heart out to you. but the way his voice was whiny... the way he begged for you, the way his face was now flush... How could you not?

You set your coffee cup down, making your way over to his tall figure. His breathing stopped almost as he could feel your presence getting closer to him, he'd never felt this uneasy in your presence but in this moment, he was afraid of what your next move would be. You were now face to face with Spencer, looking up at him with doe eyes as you watched him nervously fidget with his bottom lip. This feeling you felt was not new, it was something you felt for Spencer when he did pretty much anything. The deep fire that sparked within your stomach was always there when around him, something you were able to control and others... Well, you had to strip him down right then. However, you had never felt this feeling be so potent, so overwhelmingly rich.

"You really mean it?" You said simply, wanting nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you more than you wanted him. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he nervously stood in front of you.

"Yes...I really mean it Y/N." He admitted, his voice laced with desperation. He just wanted his girlfriend, that's all he's ever wanted.

You grin softly, eyes slightly watering as you hear his confession. You knew that Spencer would do anything for you, anything. But hearing it... hearing it gave you a sudden power rush. It made your hands shake, complete dominance running through your body. Your grin caused Spencer to relax, knowing that maybe there was a chance you could forgive him. Your hand snaked its way up to his tie, playing with it. Spencer watched this action, and the sudden realization of how you were feeling crept up on his mind. You weren't the one for punishments, you believed sex should be something that is for praising the other... not punishing. However, the mere thought of you punishing Spencer made both of you weak in the knees.

"i want to believe you, Spence..." You spoke your voice slightly over a whisper. Your hands are still rubbing the soft fabric of his tie between your fingers, flicking your eyes back up to his. "But I can't when you're using that mouth to make excuses...."

You smile up at him innocently, as if you weren't teasing him. Spencer gulped down a whimper, your voice almost having him bust in his pants all ready. You yanked him down to your level by his tie, tugging on it roughly as you forced him to make eye contact with you. You took your free hand to push his hair back from his face, watching his tie rub roughly against his neck. You took your hand, leaving light touches all over his face... tracing every bump, every mole, every scar across his face. You thought he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, but so did Lila.

"What can I do..." He started, pausing his sentence as he basked in your soft touches. "to uh... to make you believe me?"

You let out a chuckle, your finger pulling down his lip and then letting it bounce back up. You bit your lip, trying to keep your dominant persona up, but something about the way he was so desperate to please you... the fire burned hotter deep within you.

"I can't tell you... guess you just have to know." You stated. You wanted to keep him on edge, make him more desperate than he already was.

Spencer moaned softly as your grip on his tie tightened, his air getting restricted now but he felt... oddly good. You two were new to having sex at this point, Spencer had just given his virginity to you not even 2 months ago. Yet you both have had sex so often that you both knew each other's bodies inside and out already. He didn't know what he liked or what he wanted, all he knew was he wanted you and only you for the rest of his existence. Spencer couldn't help himself anymore, he smashed his lips into yours. The kiss was full of desperation, his hands making their way into your hair, sometimes pulling but mostly he used it to keep you in place.

It was messy and very sloppy, it was like a normal makeout session for you. Spencer couldn't help himself but to be messy with you, he wanted so much of you that it made him claw at your skin. You didn't mind it, you let him explore your mouth with only his tongue because you fed on his desperation. Your hands made it up to his cheeks, pressing his mouth even closer to you. Your teeth clashed with his, tongues fighting with each other, squirming against each other. You both could have stayed like this for hours, probably coming undone just by kissing but you wanted more.

"Spencer..." You moaned out, pulling him away from you slightly. You looked up at him, the desperation in his eyes to keep going. His lips were kiss-bitten, his cheeks red and his eyes wet. He whimpered at the loss of your lips, breathing heavily as you examined his face. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

Your voice was demanding, causing Spencer to jump to what you wanted him to do. You watched him eagerly take off his shirt, his tie getting stuck and frustrating him. Then he worked his way down to his pants, taking off his shoes while he was at it. He left his boxers on, knowing that you would soon take them off anyway. He sat on the bed, waiting patiently for you, feeling your eyes bore into his skin. Spencer had a strange build, skinny and lanky but his muscles were defined. You would basically drool every time you saw it, the first time you ever saw him naked you swear you came just by the view.

"Good boy..." You said, walking over to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. You set yourself on his lap, straddling him as you watched his face turn redder than it already had been. "I have been so good to you haven't I Spencer?"

You sat down on his lap, feeling his cock rock hard against the inside of your thigh. You moved his hair from his face, his hair still reeked of chlorine which created another wave of deep jealousy. Spencer nodded rapidly, his words getting stuck into his throat as you watched his face for an answer. You grinned softly, nodding with him as he let out a little hum.

"Yeah..." You started, feeling his body shake with anticipation. You leaned down, leaving soft kisses along his cheeks as you ground down softly on him. "I let you cum when you want to, let you cum inside me, I suck your dick whenever and wherever I put up with your begging and call you a good boy..."

Spencer moans softly at your words, his hands making their way to your hips as he tries to grind you down harder on his cock. His senses are already being clouded with complete lust, his need to cum is at a peak already. You chuckle down at him, his pathetic moans already filling the room and you have not even started. You trail your kisses to his mouth, forcing the kiss to be softer this time but his lips want more.

"I mean even when I should have slammed the door in your face..." You snap your hips down harshly, watching him moan out loudly. "Here I am, still calling you a good boy."

Although Spencer's moans create a softness inside of you, wanting nothing more than to let him come undone as you praise him, the deep jealousy that has been lingering in the room is creating something inhumane inside of you. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to crave insults into his skin, wanted to push him to the brink, and then take it all away from him. It's how he made you feel, seeing him in that pool with someone like Lila. even if he didn't even mean to. You knew Spencer didn't want Lila to kiss him, part of you knew that and you wanted to slap her for even putting Spencer into that position. However, you could use this anger and jealousy in a good way, a punishment that would leave Spencer feeling like he went to heaven and back.

"y/n... god..." Spencer moaned out, grinding his hips up to meet yours. You grinned softly, moving your hand from his cheek down to his neck.

His neck was already slightly red from his tie, the soft bruise already peeking through. It looked down pretty on his skin, he looked so pretty broken down. You wrapped your hand softly around his neck, setting one last kiss to his lips before you slammed him down on the bed. He gasped softly, breathing heavily as your actions scared him. He was flat on his back now, looking up at you as you straddled his hips. You could feel him throb against your thigh, his cock wanting to free him.

You took the hand wrapped around his neck, trailing it down his chest, down his belly, down his happy trail, pulling his underwear down so only his cock could spring free. You tsked softly, looking down at him as he squirmed. His cock was flush red, dripping precum as it screamed to be touched. It never failed to amaze you just how flustered and hard you could make Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius, the boy wonder.... pretty boy. You weren't exactly what you would assume his type would be, not that you weren't attractive but completely different from Spencer Reid.

You two were like night and day, favoring different things yet being made for each other. Sometimes you would get insecure about it, especially when you two were very public about your relationship. How could someone who knew exactly what they were doing be with someone like you? You thought, sometimes it kept you up at night. How someone like Spencer could be with you, how he could look at you and see only beauty. It freaked you out to say the least and maybe that's why the two of you were in the position in the first place, your insecurities getting the best of you.

"So needy already... I've barely touched you." You tease, biting your lip at the sight of him.

You set your hand on his cock, leaving feather-light touches to it as he squirmed more. You gripped it lazily, moving your hand up and down his cock. Your free hand began unbuttoning your dress pants, zipping them down, and yanking them off your body. You teased Spencer about being the eager one, but you couldn't handle much more of him not being inside you. Spencer threw his head back as you continued to stroke his cock at a slow pace, his eyes shut tight as he was already on the verge of cumming.

"That feel good honey?" You asked him, sure that he wasn't going to be able to answer you. "feels so warm... so wet..." You teased, drawing out your words to push his buttons even more.

You leaned down, hand still pumping his cock as you started leaving soft kissing along his neck, something you knew he loved dearly. Your hand movements were sloppy now, encouraging him to grind his hips into your hand. His thrusts were sporadic, no real rhythm as he was so clouded with the thought of cumming in your hand.

"Feel so... feel so good..." He moaned out, his mind not allowing him to think of a coherent sentence.

That was all you needed to know that he was close, that in the next seconds, he was going to make a mess out of your hand. You pumped him a few more times, watching as his body shook slightly. But then as his orgasm almost washed over him... you pulled your hand away. He whimpered softly, eyes filling with tears as his overstimulated and teased cock throbbed. Spencer had never felt this pathetic, just like you said, you let Spencer cum whenever he wanted to. So you helping him to the edge just to take it away in mere seconds, made this boy into a whiny mess. He would even go as far as to say you spoiled him, always allowing him to make his messes anywhere and everywhere.

"What... why.." He stuttered, not sure what to say but he felt he had been robbed of a mindblowing orgasm. His pouting made you smile, seeing how worked up and ashamed he had become.

"Awe, I'm so sorry baby..." You teased, kissing his neck softly as he desperately tried to feel for your lips with his. "But only good boys get to cum..."

Spencer bucked his hips up into nothing, his stolen orgasm making his stomach ache. Spencer would do anything, anything... just for you to let him cum. He would beg and plead for it, he would murder for it. The mere thought of Spencer willing to do anything just for your hand, sent your body into overdrive, the power rush taking over your own senses until it felt you could only be satisfied by seeing Spencer cry. Spencer huffed and puffed roughly as you continued to lay your kisses on his neck, knowing how weak it made him. His breathing was irregular and it felt as though with every struggling breath, his air was being stolen from him.

"Fuck... please..." He whimpered out, his hands reaching up to your hips once more trying to grind your body against the aching cock. "I'm sorry okay... fuck... I'm so sorry, I'll do anything... I'll be such a good boy for you, just please... fuck please Mommy!"

The word stumped you and took you completely off guard. Spencer was very new to sex and you were new to sex with him, but Mommy?!? You would've never guessed Spencer Reid would have a mommy kink, you should've known simply because it was clear. Spencer Reid has mommy issues, so seeing you as dominant during sex was basically a given, you're a profiler for god sake. You stopped your soft kisses on his neck, bringing your head up to see his horrified reaction to his words.

He was taken aback as well, those words feeling so wrong coming out of his mouth but yet so arousing to him. He always felt the need to hold back the word when you guys had sex, out of fear and him being ashamed. He knew he was safe with you, but something about a grown man calling his lover mommy felt inappropriate to him. It might be his denial or him being sexually insecure, but it just felt weird to him so the only word on his tongue at that moment was "sorry". little did he know though, the word slipping from his mouth did wonders on you. Your face heated up, your cunt wetter than ever, and your urge to cum at a peak.

"I'm so sorry... that was really weird, I'm so..." He started but was rudely interrupted by a very annoyed you.

"Spencer... it's fine, you worry too much." You giggled, trying to reassure him that you were more than okay with his surprising kink. You leaned down once more, pecking his lips with yours to hopefully put him at ease. He eagerly kissed you back, once again pulling you into a sloppy kiss. "How about you show Mommy what you can do with that mouth huh?" You said in between kisses.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the possibility of how this night would end filling his brain. The shame he felt now was turning into something else, something enjoyable as you teased him about it. He nodded his head, agreeing to whatever you wanted him to do. You smirked, pulling your panties to the side and climbing up his body. Spencer wasn't sure what you were doing, never having been in this position before but his confusion was taken over by pure hunger when being face to face with your cunt.

"If it gets too much or you want to stop, tell me, okay honey?" You stated, looking down at him, his face already slick with your juices. He nodded, looking up at you with eyes that begged you to sit on his face.

You nodded back, getting yourself comfortable before lowering yourself down onto Spencer's face. He knew what to do almost immediately, licking your clit and nuzzling his nose straight into your cunt. Like everything Spencer when it came to sex, it was sloppy and eager. There was no real pace, just Spencer going crazy on your cunt. You couldn't help but rock your hips back and forth slightly, completely forgetting how good Spencer's tongue felt.

Spencer eating you out was no new thing, it happened quite often. He preferred when you two would use your tongues and fingers to pleasure each other. It felt more intimate to him and if he was being completely honest, he felt he was better with them than he was with his dick. He felt he had more control over you when he used his tongue, not to mention when you would touch him he would quite literally forget everything especially how to move his body. So eating you out made him feel more in control and in a career where he was always fighting for control, it was a nice change. Although this position you were in now, sitting on his face, was foreign to him, but he liked it.

You were starting to feel that coil inside you tighten, the sign that you were about to cum all over his face. You gripped the sheets, now moving your hips roughly to the movements of his tongue. Spencer had started sucking softly on your clit before teasing your opening with his tongue, he couldn't pick which he wanted to do so he tried to do both. For a minute there Spencer forgot he even had hands, his mind only on lapping at your cunt and tasting your juices flowing down his tongue.

"Spencer... fuck..." You moaned out, throwing your head back as you tried your best to stay upright. "remember your hands..." You directed him.

Spencer mentally scolded himself for that, knowing that in the past you scolded him for not using his hands. Spencer couldn't help it though, he wanted to taste all of you and his hands were the last thing he was worried about. Spencer brought one of his hands up to meet your cunt, digging his fingers into you. The feeling of his fingers exploring inside you had you grabbing at his hair, holding his face in place as you bucked your hips onto his fingers. Your movements only egged Spencer on, his fingers curling up to feel for your g-stop and his mouth latching onto your clit.

You were now the one who was a whimpering mess, curses fell from your lips and your hips forced themselves down onto Spencer. You were close, feeling that the coil became more tight as your back arched. Your thighs began to shake, your vision blurry as Spencer finally found your g-spot. It only took him only 3 curls of his fingers before that coil snapped.

"FUCK!" You screamed out, not surprised if the hotel heard you.

Spencer licked and pumped you through your orgasm, something you taught him how to do. You can remember the first time he had ever eaten you out, as soon as your cunt oozed out your juices... Spencer got scared that he had done something wrong, completely stopping his movements and cutting your orgasm short. You taught him that it was a good sign and what he should do while it was happening. You were proud to say that you taught Spencer right, you were the one who taught him how to please a woman... Can Lila say the same?

You hunched over on top of Spencer, shaking slightly as you recovered from your orgasm. Spencer slid his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth as he licked them clean. You watched as he did, the sight alone creating a new wave of horniness over your body. He wanted every little speck of you, wanting to taste everything you had and he would gladly enjoy it. You shifted yourself down Spencer's body, once again straddling his hips.

"Was I a good mommy?" He asked innocently, his voice almost a whimper. He looked innocent as ever, even with his face soaked with your cum, he just looked so heavenly. You placed your hand on his cheek, wiping off the mess you had created.

"So good my love..." You whispered, watching his face turn a bright red once more. The words "my love" echoing in his ears, making his cock throb more. "How about mommy take care of you now huh?"

Your words rushed straight to Spencer's cock, forcing himself not to cum just from your words. Spencer nodded, breathing heavily as you pecked his lips with yours. You could taste your own cum on his lips along with spencers cherry chapstick that he always seems to be wearing. You let Spencer explore your mouth once more, taking what he needed from you as you once again wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it up with yourself. Spencer bucked up to meet your hips, being the greedy little bastard he was and wanting to thrust himself into you. You chuckled at his neediness but gave into his wishes, slowly setting yourself down onto him.

"Fuc..." Spencer whined out, throwing his head back in bliss.

You didn't know what happened at first, thinking that maybe Spencer was just that excited to be inside you once again. Then you felt it, his hot cum coating your walls already. You hadn't even put him all inside you and he had already come. Spencer's face contorted into pure pleasure, nails digging into your hips as he drenched your insides with cum. He was too in the clouds to realize what he had just done, it hit him too suddenly and way too hard for him to think. but eventually, he came down and sudden embarrassment ran cold through his body.

"Shit... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just h..." He started, rapidly trying to apologize for cumming so early even if it wasn't under his control. His apologies got cut off by you fully sitting down on his cock, his cock now nestled deep inside of you.

Spencer once again through his head back, his words fading into whimpers and whining. You smiled at his reaction, your cunt feeling his dick get hard once more. Spencer never knew that he would be in this position tonight or really ever. He never knew in a hundred years he would be deep inside his coworker, a babbling mess underneath her, and basically prematurely ejaculate inside of her. but somehow this is where Spencer feels he wants to be, maybe not the cumming so soon part but being underneath you.

"No need to apologize Spence..." You moan out, shifting your hips slightly. You bring your hands up to your shirt and slowly work your way down the buttons. "You deserved to cum in mommy, you did so good with your mouth."

You yank your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra Spencer had bought you days before. Spencer's breath hitched, his memory of buying that in the first place coming back. He was at the store, buying whatever he needed for that night when he accidentally stumbled into the women's undergarments section. He attempted to cover his eyes, but for some reason, they kept landing on the black lacy bra you had right now. It was embarrassing for him to be buying it, going to the checkout, and praying the cashier didn't even think twice about it, it didn't help that the image of you in it had him rock hard.

You bucked your hips softly, feeling every single inch of Spencer nuzzling inside of you. You watched his eyes, seeing how they planted on your boobs. You chuckled softly, reaching your hands to him that were sitting on your hips and bringing them up. You placed his hands on your breast, knowing that Spencer would be too shy to do it himself. You held his hands there, feeling his hands squeeze them gently as you did.

"I wanna..." You start, being interrupted by a soft moan that escapes your mouth as Spencer starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours. "I wanna make you do it again... i want you to cum in me again..."

That is all Spencer needed to hear, his stomach already creating a tight coil that could break at any moment. Your thrust was starting to pick up, his cock being pulled almost completely out of you before you slammed your hips back down to push him all the way into you. With Spencer's cock deep inside you and his hands squeezing your tits roughly, you felt you had died and went straight to heaven, or was this hell? Because you doubted you could find sex like this in heaven, this was dirty and sinful. The curses dripping from each of your mouths and spencers moans that sounded like something straight of a porno filled the room and most likely the entire floor of the hotel.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, hunching over Spencer as your hips continued to thrust roughly. Spencer moved his hands back to your hips for the hundredth time tonight, helping you thrust his cock inside of you. You were both overstimulated, your clit sending shocks of electricity through your body every time it made contact with Spencer's lower stomach. The coil inside you threatened to burst, frustration filled you as you tried desperately to bust it open and make more of a mess than it already had been. You reached down in between your legs, rubbing the small bud and sending lightning through your body.

"Fuck... gonna cum...gonna cum on your cock..." You moaned out, stuttering every time Spencer's cock filled you up.

Spencer took that as a sign to thrust harder back into you, moving his hips up and forcing your hips down. You were on the edge, every single inch of your body on fire as you fucked yourself onto Spencer. and with one single hard, deep thrust from Spencer... the coil in you snapped once again. You shoved your face into the sheet next to Spencer's head, screaming into them as you came all over Spencer's cock. You felt this feeling couldn't get any better until you felt Spencer's hot cum flow through you once again.

You were too in your own world to even hear Spencer's loud scream/moan he did as he came deep inside you, you both being thrown out of your own bodies as you came. Your juices flow together to make one big mess out of the sheets, something that will be embarrassing for the housekeepers to clean in the morning. You both laid there for a minute, basking in each other's warmth and feeling spencers cum seep out of your cunt.

It was strange to you, how you would much rather Spencer's cum dripping out of you than... well anything in life. You weren't exactly the most sex-driven person, but at this moment you knew why some people were. Spencer somehow got into your head, planting himself into it and keeping it hostage. With that being said, you couldn't stay mad at Spencer, you honestly completely forgot why you had been pushing him in the first place. The name Lila is so far away from your thoughts, that you don't actually care anymore.

You slid Spencer out of you with a wince, flopping down next to him as he came down from his high. You shifted to your side so you could watch his pretty face, his eyes fluttering open, his mouth trying to steal whatever air he could get... He looked blissful. You felt oddly proud about it, knowing that you were the one to do that. However, through the pride, you felt a deep guilt. Spencer was the kindest boy you have ever met, he chose you to give his heart to. Yet you were upset with him because he kissed another girl? No, he didn't kiss her... she kissed him. You felt petty now, the regret of ever questioning Spencer's loyalty mended into your brain.

"I'm not mad at you, you know?" You're tired, worn-out voice making it sound like a whisper. Spencer sighed softly, clear that he had forgotten as well and now he's remembered it all again. "It's just...seeing her with you, it just brought me back to high school you know? It made me feel how I did when fucking Rachel Clark tongue fucked my prom date..." You let out a soft sigh, playing with Spencer's hair as you talked.

"You know it's normal to feel that way, especially when you had a similar experience," Spencer explains, going on another one of his Reid rants. "And well, anyone would feel like that whether you had a similar experience with it or not. I know I would." Spencer's eyes wandered to the ceiling, closing his eyes due to utter exhaustion.

You couldn't imagine Spencer Reid ever getting jealous, he was always so calm about everything. You wondered what it would look like. Would he pin you to the bed and fuck the shit out of you like you did him or would he just not know how to deal with those emotions. You honestly wouldn't want to put him into a situation where he would feel that, you couldn't do that to little Spencer. He was innocent, as if the world had not touched him yet even if he does look at the dark underbelly of humans every single day.

"Yeah... well you won't ever have to worry about that my love." You said softly, cuddling yourself further into his side as you closed your eyes as well. "You're stuck with me..."

Spencer chuckled softly, at complete peace that he was stuck with you. If you were the person he was stuck with for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man. You two didn't even bother wrapping up in the blankets, you just needed each other's warmth as you lulled each other to sleep. The presence of jealousy and anger nowhere to be seen, maybe y'all didn't talk it out tonight but you sure did fuck and made up. You wouldn't have it any other way.

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