#i have a file i'm really slowly working through

[katabay]

THE JETSET LIFE IS GONNA KILL YOU, ERIC CARTER!

my laptop charger uhhhhhh. met its end in a very permanent, very fire hazardy kind of way last week. while waiting for a replacement I decided to try and get some work done at the library and was asking around for some urban fantasy (extra points for a mystery plot of some kind) recommendations to check out while I was there

the eric carter series was mentioned a couple of times, AND had the added bonus of having a necromancer for a main character. I love necromancers. someday I'm gonna play one in a game instead of immediately defaulting to vampires.

Fire Season, Stephen Blackmoore

[mariasont]

hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the frenetic energy of ringing phones and rapid footsteps is replaced by the soft drone of air conditioning and the occasional rustle of files being shifted. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than steadily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. 

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional--he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today--black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it--his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there--so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake. 

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter. 

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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[alicewritez]

Gossip - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 1329

summary: you’re a new recruit at the BAU and a firm favourite of Hotch, which has not gone unnoticed by the team. unbeknownst to the team, you and Aaron are in a relationship and are holding another secret; there’s more to what than meets the eye.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: implied age gap, mentions of student-teacher dynamic, brief mention of pregnancy at the end but nothing too descriptive. it’s just a bit of fun/fluff. feel free to send requests of any criminal minds character you’d like 🩷

You leave Aaron's office after he briefed you on your tasks for the day; still in the probationary period. You're a newly hired profiler and a very clear favourite of Aaron's. You were surprised to hear that everyone thinks of him as a bit of a grump - he's a soft, gentle and kind man underneath the hard and stern exterior.

As you leave his office, everyone turns to look at you and you're flooded with questions. Are you two secretly related? Why does he like you so much? What is going on between the pair of you?

But truthfully, you didn't know yourself, you were just as clueless as the rest of the team. Sure, you could definitely say you harboured a crush for the man, but he had made no attempt to reciprocate those feelings. Not that he really knew about yours anyway.

Derek gives you a gentle nudge, grinning widely as his eyes glisten with mischief and he surprised a laugh. "So, you and Hotch are close?"

You shrug as you sit down at your desk. "I don't know, I suppose so..". Morgan raises an eyebrow at your nonchalant response. "You don't know?"

Penelope chimes in as she weaves her way back through the desks to get to her office. "It's so obvious. You two are clearly close! You're also, like, half his age. How do you know each other?"

You set your files on your desk. "He was one of my teachers back at the FBI Academy."

Both Derek and Penelope's eyes widen at the revelation, not imagining it could have been something as simple as that. David chuckles from his office before moving to stand against the doorframe with his arms folded. "So you're the fresh-faced prodigy we've all been hearing about."

David's smile widens. He knows you're exactly the prodigy the FBI has been boasting about for months. "But it's true, isn't it? You got your Ph.D. at nineteen and you're the youngest person to join the BAU. You were also the youngest to graduate the FBI Academy."

You suck in a breath, "well, you've certainly done your research.. but I only graduated thanks to Hotch..". Derek leans forward, his smile growing wider. "'Hotch', huh? He really is a softie for you, isn't he?"

You furrow your brows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've all noticed that he's much tamer around you." Penelope chimes in again, her voice full of excitement. "Yes! Much softer, too! I've never seen him smile so often until you joined."

"I think you're reading too much into this. He's probably just being nice because I'm new." You wave them off, making a start on the files piled in your desk.

Spencer, the youngest besides you, looks at you skeptically. Sometimes he could be too smart for his own good. "You're not just any new agent, though. You're a brilliant one. You're smart, talented, gifted, and young. And you're a favourite of our unit chief. Who also happens to be a grumpy, intense man who can be hard to impress. I agree with Derek and Penelope, there must be more to the story."

"Well there really isn't." You sigh as you start writing some notes up. Each member look slightly skeptical at your response, but decide to drop the subject for now, seeing how you wanted to just get on with your work. Once you were done with your notes and reports, you excuse yourself to Hotch’s office, knocking gently on the door.

A few seconds pass before you hear his voice call out. “Come in.”

You slowly step inside and close the door behind you, files in hand. Hotch looks up as he hears the door open and close, looking up at you with a small smile. “Finished with your reports already? Impressive, as always.”

“Yeah but,” you pause, “that’s not the reason I’m here.” Hotch raises an eyebrow as he sets down his pen, giving you his full attention. “Then what is it?”

“The team are figuring it out.” You fiddle with the corners of the files in your hand, while Hotch’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Figured it out? Figured what out?”

“Stop playing dumb Aaron… about us..”

Hotch pauses for a moment at your use of his first name, then a sigh escapes his lips before he rubs a hand over his forehead. “I suppose they’re all talking about it, then.”

“Talk of the office yeah.” You sit down, dropping the files onto his desk with a small thud. “I suppose they were bound to find out we were together sooner or later but, I didn’t think it would be this quick.”

Hotch chuckles softly, his eyes focusing on you. Seeing your worried expression, he stands and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. He takes your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “They’re just being nosey. They’ll get over it and move onto the next bit of gossip soon.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand. “I hope so.” He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, the gesture affectionate and soothing. He knows you don’t like being the constant topic of office gossip. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts your head up gently so that you’re looking directly into his eyes.

You look into his eyes, melting under his touch. He gazes into your eyes and over your face, his expression full of affection. He lifts a hand and tenderly strokes your cheek, his touch sending chills down your spine. “No matter what the others think or say, none of it matters. I chose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you whisper, “I love you.”

He smiles at your soft admission, his heart swelling with love and affection. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling your waist. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You smile giddily, your arms wrapping around his torso. “You’re being very bold doing this in the office.”

He chuckles, his arms holding you close to him. Despite the risk of someone walking in on the two of you at any moment, he’s too lost in the moment to care. “Can you blame me? It’s my way of showing the others who you belong to.”

You smile softly up at him. “I think we should give them something else to gossip about.” He grins gown at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

You pull away from him, bringing your hands to rest on your stomach. “We tell them about this.” You and Aaron had found out weeks ago, but chose to keep it quiet for now, not wanting too many to be involved just yet. It was nice that just you and Aaron knew.

His smile widens at your words. He follows the movement of your hands, placing a gentle hand over yours on your stomach. “You think it’s time?”

“We can’t hide it forever.. however much we may want to.” You respond, deep down wanting to keep it to you and Aaron for a while longer, but also knowing the team deserved to know.

He nods, his eyes fixed on the spot where his hand is resting on your stomach. He can’t help but smile wider. “You’re right. But are you ready for all the questions and comments we’re going to get?”

“No, but.. it was all going to come out eventually..”

He nods in agreement, his hand gently caressing your stomach after pulling your hands away. “You’re right. You know, you’re the bravest and most brilliant person I know. Nothing can stop us.” He drops his head down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, then on your cheek before finally capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

Little did either of you know, the team had all been listening in from outside his office door, hearing every word. But they wouldn’t say anything, they’d let you and Aaron go to them first.

[stairain]

Desk Pet.

Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.

Warnings: Sub Spencer, meanish reader, slight pet play (use of nickname puppy), grinding, leg humping, cumming in pants, begging. // Sorry for disappearing! It will happen again!

WC: 3.0K

You were sitting at your desk in your bedroom, intently staring at your computer screen as you tried to file through your work. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration and you were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear your boyfriend Spencer walk into the room. 

He had been working late, so it was just past midnight. His footsteps were silent as he walked past you towards the bed. But he saw you were engrossed in your work and was going to sneak past you without disturbing you, but a thought popped into his mind and he suddenly couldn’t resist.

Biting your lip, you look down at the papers on the table and start to write something down, oblivious to the way Spencer was sneakily padding over to you with a clear intention in mind. You didn't know what he had planned, but you knew you couldn't afford any distractions right now.

He came up behind you and stood at your left-hand side. Your attention was still focused on the papers in front of you, much to his dismay. He leaned in slowly and kissed the right side of your neck, moving any pieces of hair that got in his way. He then nuzzled his face against your neck, his breathing becoming quick and shallow.

A shudder ran up your spine and your heart almost stopped before you processed what was happening as he snapped you out of your work-induced trance. After the initial shock, your eyebrows knit further in annoyance. You had a lot of things to get done, and he sure wasn't helping, and you knew he knew that.

"Not now, Spence. I'm really really busy, do you think you can give me a few hours?"

You try to sound as sweet as possible, because you knew for a fact that he could not wait a few more hours. He was impatient and needy at the worst times, now being one of them. You tried to ignore the warm feeling of his lips pressing tiny kisses against your neck.

“How about now? I just want a little taste..”

His lust blown eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, with a slight playful smile. His voice sounded low and husky and his eyes burned with arousal. His words had a slight edge of desperation to them and he seemed to have no intention of giving up any time soon.

Breaking your gaze from your work you look at him just long enough that those wide eyes of his almost win you over, but you're quick to get back to writing as you shake your head. The desperation was evident in his voice, but you really had so much to do. You just couldn't afford to stop and give him what he wanted.

"Baby, I told you. I'm really busy, be a good boy and be patient for me, please?"

Spencer had looked like a hurt puppy when you turned away from him, he couldn’t believe you didn’t give in after his first time asking. His face twisted into a sad frown as you wrote on your stupid papers. He sighed again and tried harder to get your attention.

“Just a few minutes, please? Do I really have to wait until later?”

He asked pitifully. The puppy dog eyes and little frown that looked so adorable on his face were working overtime to get you to give in and fuck him already.

With a soft chuckle you look at him and shake your head once more. It was always hard to say no to him, and you rarely did, which is why he always took it so hard.

It was always so endearing how desperate he got when he didn't get what he wanted. You really did want to give him what he wanted, but he was far too spoiled already. He had to learn his lesson sooner or later.

"Spence, baby. Go lay down or read a book until I'm finished, I promise after I'm finished we can do whatever you want, okay? You'll be okay waiting for a bit."

He was determined to make you give in by any means necessary. The slacks he neglected to change out of were growing tighter by the second, heavy cock straining against the already uncomfortable material. He was so hard and needy and he didn’t know what he’d do if you kept this up. 

Spencer leaned in closer to you, and his lips pressed against the side of your neck again. This time he sucked and swirled his wet tongue against it, creating a tingling feeling that spread throughout your body. He looked down at you with a pleading look, trying to make you give into his pleading and begging sooner rather than later.

“Please.. I-I can’t wait an entire night to be with you. I just can’t..” He whined, looking at you pitifully. His tone was almost like he was throwing a tantrum, and at this point he might as well have been.

"Well you're going to have to, if I don't get this finished I'm fucked."

You didn't even spare him the glance, already knowing he was giving you those pouty lips and sad puppy eyes. Maybe it was because you really did need to focus, or because you knew if you looked at him for longer than a second you wouldn't be able to.

His bottom lip curled downwards into a pout and he let out a sigh, before slowly leaning back away from you. He took a step back but his eyes remained glued on you. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be a good boy..” He whined again, and pouted.

The dejected tone in his voice sent a pang through your heart, and you couldn't help the way you bit your lip in thought at how to proceed this. You knew you had to work, but you also knew how much he loved being around you. Sighing, you speak your compromise.

"Come here."

You called out in a firm voice, waiting for his presence behind you again.

He seemed a little surprised by your rather blunt word choice, but he obeyed nonetheless and came back over to stand behind you. Plus your tone of voice when you called for him turned him on in an instant. You still had your attention on your work and he knew that, but he liked the small progress he was making. 

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

He was still in a slightly dejected tone, but he had a glimmer of hope. He craved to hear and feel the passion and desire he knew you had inside of you, and he needed it now. 

"Get on the ground."

You offhandedly said, as if it were nothing more than a passing thought. With your rolling office chair, you pushed yourself back a bit so he had more space. Space to sit underneath your desk like a good pet while you finish your work. He was so desperate for your attention, he'd take anything you offered.

The moment he heard those words his heart dropped into his stomach. He was so desperate to be with you, that even being right at your feet was more than he could ever ask for. He loved when you told him what to do and when to do something. He absolutely adored being ordered around.

Spencer was quick to obey you as he fell to his knees and crawled under the desk, waiting for more orders. His eyes burned with lust as he stared up at you. 

Your eyes flickered down at him once he was settled between your legs, and you widened them the littlest bit more, just to tease him. Without another word, you began typing on your computer, seemingly ignoring him after telling him to kneel at your feet like a dog.

To put it simply, he was desperate to be noticed. He wanted your attention so bad he’d do anything for it. He wanted you to acknowledge him, give him the littlest glance and he’d be happy.

Yet, he still knew better than to bother you right now while you were working after already burning that bridge. So he just looked up at you as you typed away on your computer and waited for a sign from you. His eyes locked with yours that were glued to the screen and he looked at you with a gaze full of adoration and worship. 

But you hadn't even been granted five minutes of peace and quiet before you felt him scooting closer towards you. He seemed to take a liking to your right leg, gravitating towards it and not so subtly opening his own legs to slot your calf between them. You stop typing for a moment, but you don't give the satisfaction of sight.

"Spencer."

Voice low and scolding, you warn him with just the call of his name. You thought you had given him more than enough attention, especially after he had been such a brat and refused to leave you alone. He's lucky you even let him sit under your desk, and now he was taking advantage of it.

His eyes darted forward when he heard your low, scolding voice, as if he had been caught. He looked at you with eyes that were positively spilling faux innocence, like he was expecting to be let off the hook.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

Spencer asked quietly, tilting his head to one side. His expression looked hopeful, like he was expecting more. A part of him was hoping to be rewarded for his behavior. He knew that wasn’t the case, though. You never rewarded misbehavior.

"Watch it."

You warned him once again. The tone in your voice was nothing short of intimidating and serious, and yet it did nothing but turn him on even more. You could feel his arousal throbbing against your ankle as he cozied himself up against your leg. You tried to ignore the weight and heat of his shaft pressing on you, but you were just a woman. 

He rested his chin on your knee, eyes wide and sparkling. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked a little confused as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong so as to deserve your warning. You told him to get on the ground, you never told him he couldn’t use your leg to get himself off. He had no idea he was taking advantage of your kindness, and yet had no problem doing it.

“Watch what?”

The brunet asked innocently. He kept his eyes glued to yours, waiting to see what you were going to do, as if challenging you. The longer he looked up at you, the hornier he got. Taking a deep inhale through your nose and rolling your eyes, you snap at him. 

"I've told you countless times, I need to get my work done. I can't give you what you want."

You reminded him once again, eyes darting everywhere on the desk and yet not one glance underneath it. You had hardly registered the way his hips were slowly rolling down against your leg and how his plush pink lips parted with a soft moan. He was grinding against you like a bitch in heat, barely listening to a word you said at this point. 

He let out a whimper as he pushed the pulsing head of his dick against you without a care in the world. Those wide, adorable brown eyes of his looked so desperate as he continued to look up and try his best as to not be caught by you. You couldn't see it, but you felt his arms hook around your leg for more leverage to hump against you pathetically. 

“I know, I know. I just–can’t wait. It has to be you..” 

Your breath hitched as your breath got caught in your throat. Something about those words he just whimpered out, they were winning you over. You purse your lips with a sigh and look down at the pathetic puppy at your feet. The movements of his hips and crotch had slowed down, but you could tell he was just itching to start again. The way his eyebrows were slightly upturned in the temptation of bliss, and the soft puffs of a whimper leaving his mouth. It was too much, and you were worn weak.

"You have five minutes, if you don't get off by then, you leave this room. Understood?"

Spencer smiled widely when he heard what you agreed to, and he crawled forward more to hug your leg closer to his chest. Pressing his forehead against your knee, he made small, soft whimpering noises as he got to work. 

“Yes, Ma’am. I understand. Five minutes.” 

He recited back to you as coherently as he could, already lost in the feeling of your unmoving ankle colliding so deliciously with his leaking cock. He was staining the insides of his boxers with sticky warm precum, and the wetness made his head spin and his breath shallow.

Turning your attention back to the work at hand and not the bitch at your feet, you shake your head and try your hardest to ignore the way he was practically humping your leg at this point. He was trying his hardest to keep quiet, but it obviously wasn't working. If Spencer was anything, it was vocal when he felt his best. You could feel every stutter of his hips and the way the rest of his body shook when he pressed his arousal harder against the bone of your calf. You'd be lying if you told yourself this wasn't turning you on beyond belief, ignoring him as he used you for his own pleasure.

He pushed himself against your leg some more, but he didn’t push it too far for now. You knew he was about to burst, but he tried so hard to hold it in to enjoy it. He was breathing more heavily as instinctively kissed your knee. His sounds of need became louder with every hump.

“Oh, fuck.” 

He shuddered out, his voice still low and sultry and nothing short of needy. His whole body quivered with the amount of effort he was using to hold on. Not only would it be humiliating to have finished not even thirty seconds after you granted him permission to get himself off, but it would be an utter waste of time. 

As the seconds ticked by and approached his time limit, the push and pull of his lower body was almost maddening. He was rubbing himself so hard against you through his pants, and you secretly hoped he'd be able to finish in five minutes, considering how badly you wanted to see him make a mess without even having to touch him, let alone pay attention to him.

Spencer looked up at you, and he still had four minutes to go before his time was up. He was already out of control, and it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back.

He kept rubbing himself on you and making those low, desperate sounds. He was going to explode soon, and although unlikely, he hoped that you would stop working when those five minutes were up. He hoped you would finally pay attention to him. He was so needy and desperate. He wanted you now. 

While he was having the time of his life grinding against you, it just wasn’t what he really needed. He needed to be buried inside of you, pushing as deep as he possibly can as your cunt sucked him in even further. He needed to have you gushing around him as his elbows gave out on him as he tried his hardest to keep fucking you through his third orgasm. 

But he wasn’t going to get that, not tonight. 

Deciding to try and be nicer to your poor boy, you move one hand away from your work and card it through his soft curls. Running your nails against his scalp, back and forth, as if to imitate the cant of his hips. It almost served as a silent praise, 'what a good job you're doing' you could have said, but you had a demeanor to keep up and a report to write up.

He couldn’t help the pathetic groan that was punched out of him at your touch. You always knew where he loved being touched the most, and you knew it never felt as good when he did it himself. 

“Oh, fuck–please.”

The words left his mouth in a hiss as he pushed himself more against you. His jaw shook and his sounds grew in intensity as his body froze and he squeezed your leg impossibly tighter. It wasn't a moment later that you felt his entire body go rigid against you and his breath caught in his throat in what sounded like a choked sob.

The tightness of Spencer’s pants did nothing to mask his shame as he exploded into the poor stained fabric. His eyes instantly found your face and almost forced you to look right back at him as he finished. His mouth was quivering as pathetic whimpers and moans punched their way out of his throat. Thick spurts of warm cum made their way into his boxers. He had positively soaked the front of his pants, with a minute left to spare.

The moment he finished, he fell flat against you and his hand reached out and grabbed your thigh, clinging onto you like he was dying and you were his lifeline. His head was pressed firmly against your leg and he was still shaking and breathing heavily from his release.

His face was burning red from the strain he just went through. He felt as though he shot out his soul in the process of drenching himself. He had a stupid grin on his face as he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I stay now?” He asked in a desperate tone, with those same damned puppy dog eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you smile down at him and suck on your teeth. He always knew how to push your buttons and get what he wanted, every single time.

“Fine. But keep those hands to yourself.”

[sageyxbabey]

Every Move You Make

MDNI John Price x Fem!Reader | your husband likes to watch you

Inspired by @the-californicationist who so graciously tagged me with the idea "Price comes home and watches you finger yourself." Teehee c:

WC: ~900 (this is entirely not proofread it might be a bit shit i'm so sorry)

CW: none, really. just mutual masturbation and piv

At last, you allow yourself to melt onto your sheets. Freshly showered and free from work for the day. You should have two hours until your husband makes it home. More than enough time to help yourself release a bit of… pent-up tension. You wriggle your pants off, graceless in your exhaustion, and begin circling your fingers gently over your clit. No need to rush.

You’re finally in the throes of your pleasure, that slow build of warmth and electricity in your core just beginning to culminate into something absolutely delicious, when–

You jolt at the shift in weight at the end of the bed. Eyes flying open, you lock gazes with your husband, one knee resting on the mattress but otherwise preternaturally still, like a wolf waiting for his prey to bolt. He’s early.

“John,” you pant.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His rumbling voice is almost as dangerous as the smile slowly spreading across his face. “Don’t stop on my account.” He moves slowly, sinking his other knee into the bed and shifting forward until your thighs lay over his. 

You don’t move, enthralled by the look on your husband’s face. He’s so very hungry.

 Normally, John would have slapped your hands aside by now and taken over for you. Wasn’t that one of the benefits of having a partner? Orgasms that you didn’t have to give yourself? 

He raises an eyebrow, looking between your face and your glistening cunt, “Well? I want to see the show I almost missed out on,” he grumbles.

Ah, it was going to be like that today.

Your fingers dip into the slick arousal pooling at your entrance before returning to dance over your clit. Your eyes never leave John’s face, but his stare is fixed upon the movements of your hand, licking his chops. He hums, big hands stroking over the sensitive skin of your thighs, soothing you like a wild animal. He’s burning you alive, you just know it. Every nerve ending lights up at his touch like iron filings following the pull of a magnet. There’s no stopping the moan that crawls out of your throat, and your pussy clenches pitifully around nothing. 

Empty, empty, empty.

You need your husband. You need your John inside you. 

When you’re finally considering begging, you watch him bend his head forward. “Stop,” he says. 

‘Thank fuck,’ you think. At last, your husband is going to take care of it, and you can relax–

You hear him spit. You feel wetness land on your clit and meander down to your opening.

“Alright,” he whispers with a short nod, “Continue.”

You blink at him owlishly, frustration building with each pulse of arousal through your swollen clit. It’s only now that you realise John has shucked his work trousers down to the mid-thigh without your notice, one large hand fisted tightly around his cock. You tease yourself again, this time with the wet gift he has provided you, and his hand starts to move.

You stop. He stops. You speed up, he speeds up.

He smirks, a low chuckle escaping him. He looks like a dragon billowing smoke. “Thank you for finally catching on, love, I was worried you’d leave me to play all by myself.” That smile from earlier turns into a full-on grin, just a little too toothy to be innocent. 

Dangerous, your husband.

That’s okay. You’ve always liked it when he puts those teeth around your neck.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you sigh. His eyes snap to your face for a moment at your words, before they focus back on his prize. “I’ll always play with you,” you croon. Your free hand trails a path from your knee to your centre, one fingertip circling lazily around your entrance. Your husband’s eyes narrow viciously. 

“Don’t,” he growls. His hand stills on the base of his cock, watching. Waiting. Hunting.

You laugh and thrust two fingers inside yourself.

You barely get to crook them before John snaps, massive paw wrenching your hands from your flesh, notching himself against your cunt before sliding home in one smooth stroke. You’re not laughing now. You’re shrieking. 

“You little fucking minx, you just couldn’t help yourself. Are you happy?” He asks, the weight of his hips pinning you open beneath him like a butterfly under glass. You’re grinning like the cat that got the cream, cheeks burning with mirth. Your husband chuckles darkly at the sight.

“Of course you’re fucking happy.” John pulls out until he’s barely inside of you, “Can never let me sit back and watch, can you? Always so desperate to have your husband inside of you.” He drives his point home with a brutal thrust, and you wail at the feeling of his tip popping past the tight ring of muscles just behind your entrance. 

“Yes,” you cry. “Always want you inside, need you inside…” Your words trail off into moans, clawing at John’s shoulders until his entire body is draped on top of you, crushing you into the mattress. It takes barely a minute before you’re bearing down on his cock with a blinding orgasm.

You let your wolf devour you that night.

tag list:

@universitypenguin @teenagellamaangel @frogtowne

[midnightarcheress]

i know i just said that i was on a break, but casino!141 was giving me an itch, so here we are. phone writing, bear with me.

cw: nsfw. slightest dub-con at first? poly!141 is arising. cockwarming. simon talks you through it. f!reader. 3 | more casino!141

your footsteps echoes in the hallway, soundwaves ricocheting on the walls of the far too quiet casino. it's strange being there during the day, accompanied only by the more avid gamblers who need their fix, even when most lights are off.

"come in." John's voice travels from inside the office after your brisk knock and you open the door, quickly stepping in the room and opening your mouth to speak, but your jaw closes shut when you realize you're not alone with him.

he's sitting behind a desk overflowing with papers, cigar long forgotten on the ashtray, but your attention is diverted to the masked individual standing beside it, hazel eyes boring into your skull with an unerving stare. "hello, Ace."

his voice can't be described as tranquilizing, but the tone is a stark contrast from the glare. it's almost tender, alluring, and for a split second you forget what you were going to say. "uhm, Kyle said you wanted to see me?" your head turns back to John, offering him a timid smile.

"yes, that's correct." he leans back on the chair, rolling his tense shoulders and tilting his head in your direction, "Simon and i are working through some documents, you know, bookkeeping, management, the boring stuff behind the slot machines," you nod, attentively listening but not truly following, "and i'm needing some of your assistance."

"i'm sorry? assistance?" your brows knit together, confused by his words. he chuckles, index finger raised in the air motioning for you to come closer, and you swear you hear Simon snorting at the interaction.

you walk to the table and stand on his side, eyes darting between the pile of files and the malicious glint in his blue irises. his hand meets your waist and your sight drops from his face, down to his torso, down to his... bulge. "you see, Ace, you're always so good in helping me concentrate during the games, we might as well try something new, yeah?"

his fingers graze your hips, tracing down your sides and reaching behind your thighs, causing a shiver on your spine. "John, i–" a soft 'shh' comes out of his lips, and he starts unbuckling his belt, raising himself just enough so that his trousers can come to his knees.

heat spreads up your chest, your neck, your cheeks, and your vision swerves to the ceiling, mind racing with embarrassment and bewilderment. from the corner of your eye you peek into Simon's direction, and to your surprise, he's completely unfazed.

Price drags you closer, hiking up your shirt just enough to expose your belly, pressing long kisses on the flesh while his hands knead your ass. you shouldn’t give in so easy, you have a better judgement than that, but his touch is so enticing, soft, easily mistaken by loving, that you find it hard to define what's right and wrong – or to define if you really want this.

when he pops open the button of your pants, you know you're done for. even if your brain settled for a 'no', he wouldn't care, considering the amount of pre-cum leaking from his throbbing cock. the damp spot between your legs wouldn't care either.

he pulls your bottoms down slowly, trailing pecks from your navel to your mound. you're nervous, dangerously close to a cardiac arrest when he flips you around hastily, slap on your ass cheek making your body jolt forward.

a firm hand guide your hips to his crotch, while the other positions his cock on your entrance, teasingly stroking the folds to gather your slick. "deep breath for me." he's gentle, pressing kisses on your back while you sink into his length, the pain of the sudden stretch being easily overpowered by the wave of pleasure washing over you. "that's it, love." he groans, squeezing your waist when you finally hit the base, "now just sit pretty while i work, hm?"

you nod, pathetically so, biting your bottom lip to swallow back your moans. you imagined it would be big, and maybe you just needed to be prepared, but fuck, you were filled. John started ruffling through the papers again, meticulously skimming the words like his tip wasn't brushing your cervix whenever you dared to adjust yourself.

"you have to stop squirming, Ace."

your head snaps up to the side the sound came from, and you face Simon's piercing glare. he still holds one of the documents, but his focus is solely on you, an underlying primal desire hidden behind his gaze that makes your stomach flutter.

he chuckles, leaning in front of you, arms almost close enough to cage you over the table. "does it feel that good? having Price's cock stuffing your sweet cunt?" he patronizes, tapping your cheek to get your attention back on his eyes, "i bet it does."

if you had the energy, you'd curse him out, but you're lost in how good you're feeling, even with minimal friction. you look up to him, pitifully doe-eyed as a moan escapes your lips, "go on, pretty girl, feel it. it's pulsing, isn't it? each vein hitting the perfect spots." you grip the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white from the strength, desperately trying to ignore the smallest twitches of his shaft inside of you, "you want him to move, right?"

you hum, writhing on his lap to convince John into forgeting whatever business he has to do at the moment and just fuck you already. "you'll have to wait, Ace." you whine, looking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. his gaze doesn't shift, but you note the slight blush creeping up his collar and you smirk, content that he seems to be suffering too, even if it's barely.

"if you're lucky, he might reward you later. throw all of that shite on the floor and bend you over the table." your walls immediately clench at the idea, coaxing a grunt out of Price. "and you are a lucky girl, aren't you?" a breathy 'yes' comes out of your mouth, and Simon's thumb brushes your lower lip, smearing the tiny drop of spit on the corner over your pout.

your thighs tremble, clit aching and begging for some stimuli, toes curling at the mere thought of being fully claimed by John. "be patient." he deigns, and you don't miss the smirk marking the black fabric of his covering. bastard. his hungry expression only makes you wetter, needier, disoriented by lust, and you absentmindedly nod, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves and wait. painfully wait.

but the action ultimately falters the second Simon's low whisper reach your ears, striking you like electricity, "good girl."

ideas for this are always welcomed mwah

[yjhzies]

“Cheers to youth.” — YJH

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . comfort . angst

⋆ pairings : jeonghan x gn!reader ⋆ warning : reader being scolded by their boss, crying (there shouldn't be any more, lmk! <3) ⋆ wc : 0.8k [✉️] · Always portrayed as "perfect" feels like a nightmare now. But with Jeonghan, everything will be fine.

⋆ - note : got scolded by the teacher for no valid reason and my inner writer came out ^^ (ty ig and welcome to depression era) | trying angst for the first time, I think I'm going insane :( stay safe jeonghannie 🌷

"Love?" Your boyfriend's voice was soft, and everything you needed to hear after a disastrous day at work.

You gripped your phone tighter and gathered the courage to respond.

"Hm, hannie,"

"Are you almost off work? Do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'm almost done with work, it's okay, I'm fine." Your voice breaks with the words 'I'm fine', because you were clearly not. But, he didn't have to know.

You, who is known as the 'Perfect' one in your workplace, were feeling like a failure. Not that you liked the way people labelled you as 'perfect', but you did want to meet the expectations of your boss. You've always had this habit - feeling the need to meet people's expectations, afraid of disappointing others. This, something you have had since school days, was becoming a nightmare.

Your boss was rumoured to have had a break up; something that is completely none of your business - you knew. So when he lashed out at you, simply because of his gloomy mood, you were in disbelief.

"I heard you've been focusing on everything except for work? I remember the time you were considered as the perfect manager, but now? I doubt that. You've been lacking behind everything. From doing the files to arranging the meetings properly. If you keep doing this, I doubt you'll be here in my company for long."

Those words haunted your mind, and it kept repeating. For no reason. You knew you did nothing wrong, you knew you were not in the wrong here.

But words hurt so much.

Especially when you're trying your best.

Especially when you feel you've done enough, and you hear this.

"Are you sure?" Jeonghan asked, worried because you have had to stay at work for long, and it was unusual.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Silence soon followed, and you took a heavy breath to stop the tear threatening to roll down your cheeks.

"Are you really, baby?" He asked softly. As if he knew everything despite not knowing anything.

You didn't expect that question. All the tears you had held back finally escaped your glossy eyes, and you broke down. Right in the middle of a bus stand, but thankfully, no one was there.

"Baby?" Jeonghan felt a surge of panic wash over him. The sounds of your muffled sobs echoed in his ears through the phone.

The last thing Jeonghan wanted was you crying all alone.

You slowly lowered your hand, the phone in your hand dropping to the floor as you continued weeping. There was no one around to help you. To ask if you were okay.

"Please, baby," he softly pleaded. You were there alone. All by yourself. "Please answer me."

He grabbed his car keys, opened the location tracking app that you both agreed to use in emergencies and rushed out of his apartment. The drive was gonna take at least 20 minutes, but he couldn't care less.

All he knew right now was that he had to be by your side.

"I'll be there, don't worry, okay?" He tried to calm you down, despite panicking himself.

Everything faded into the background, as you finally let all the feelings burst out in the form of tears. All the taunting you had endured throughout the day was driving you insane.

It wasn't your fault. You did nothing.

You don't know when time passed by, and Jeonghan's car pulled up on the road - but you felt a hint of relief at the sight of him.

He got out of the car in a hurry, running up to the bus stop where you stood. Very slowly, you turn your gaze on him and he catches a glimpse of you - puffy eyed, cheeks red with warmth, tremors still coursing through your body, dried tears that were being replaced by fresh ones.

"Hannie..." You choked out, sobbing.

Without wasting a second, he threw his arms around your torso, engulfing you in a warm hug. He rested one of his hands on the back of your head, caressing it, as he wrapped his other arm around your waist protectively.

You've never felt so secure and safe in someone's embrace before.

You closed your eyes, placing your hands on either side of his shoulders, and began sobbing again. But this time, you knew Jeonghan was there to protect you.

"Shh, I'm here, it's all gonna be okay." His voice was barely above a whisper, as if those words were only meant to be heard by you. So soft, so loving, and it conveyed so many emotions to you.

He felt like home. Like the warm hug and kiss you crave after a long tiring day at work. Like the cold, but relaxing drop of rain on your skin.

"I'm- I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, don't be, please."

You're grateful. So grateful that you both don't have to know the reason to simply be by their side. The reason can be unknown, or known later, but what matters is that you're there for each other.

– taglist : @gyubakeries @k1eev @haowrld @armycarat2612

[check out masterlist - pinned post to be added to the taglist!]

[corkinavoid]

DDxDC Cold Fingers

Written for: Flufftober, prompt 7. Hoodie Weather

"I'm home!" Danny's voice comes from the door right after the click of the lock. Tim just hums in response, too caught up in reading the file on his tablet. He really needs to finish the report today, this case has been closed for three days now-

Something cold touches his stomach, and Tim yelps in surprise, kicking his foot on reflex. Danny dodges easily, taking a step back and laughing.

"You and your cold fingers," Tim huffs, sliding down on the couch and tugging the hem of his hoodie lower and over his knees, so his sneaky boyfriend won't have a chance to steal his warmth anymore.

Danny pouts and tries anyway, putting his palms on Tim's knees - he can feel the cold even through his pj-pants - and sliding them up slowly.

"You know I love you, Tim," he says, an innocent look in his eyes and a ton of mischief in his voice. Tim slaps his hands and moves back on the couch, out of Danny's range.

"I do, but keep your hands away from me," he warns. Danny seems to miss the warning entirely, climbing up on the couch and moving his fingers in a menacing manner.

"But it's so cold out there," he whines, trying to get closer, as Tim keeps fighting him, while still holding the tablet in his hands. "I need some warmth. And love. And-"

Tim places his foot right in the center of Danny's chest, keeping him from coming closer. By this time, he is almost laying down on the couch, and the position is really stupid. Just like his boyfriend's grin and his attempts to get his hands under Tim's hoodie.

"And I worked really hard on warming myself up," Tim argues. Which is, actually, true: it's been raining since yesterday, so Tim wisely stayed inside, bundled up in blankets and working from home. Except for patrol, but that's a whole different story. "I'm not sharing it with someone who hadn't put a token of effort in it."

Danny pouts, but sighs and steps away. Tim keeps a suspicious eye on him, but, after a few seconds, he slowly goes back to his report.

A big mistake.

The next moment, Danny all but falls on top of him, and his ice cold hands are under Tim's hoodie and all over his naked stomach and ribs, and Tim is squealing, hitting him on the shoulders and wriggling out of his grip. Danny is laughing, squeezing him in a hug that sends chilly shivers down Tim's spine.

"Cold-cold-cold, Danny, no, stop!" He gasps for air, but his boyfriend just chuckles and showers his face in tiny, quick and cold kisses. Tim shakes his head, dodging and trying to get rid of them just to prove a point.

"But ple-e-ease," Danny whines, still smiling so wide Tim is afraid his face is going to crack.

"You're..." he huffs, out of breath because of all the fighting. And then, breathes out, slumping down and going lax on the couch, "...Insufferable."

Danny's eyes are brighter than stars, and his hair is a mess. Tim runs a hand through it - yup, wet from the rain, because someone forgot his umbrella again - and raises an eyebrow.

"What am I getting in return?"

"My eternal love," Danny answers immediately, his not so cold anymore hands rubbing slow circles over Tim's skin. He shivers again, but this time, it's not because of the temperature.

"Like I don't already have that," he rolls his eyes, but he knows he is smiling.

"M-yeah?" His dork of a boyfriend hums, and then leans down, finally giving him a proper kiss. This one is not cold, it's soft and warm, slowly heating Tim from inside out until he is all out of breath again.

And Danny's hands also feel almost hot under his hoodie.

Tim smiles, wrapping his arms around Danny's neck.

"Welcome home," he greets, content and nearly melting under his boyfriend's touch. Right until a horrible though strikes him, and his face drops, "Wait, where's my tablet?!"

[burningembers91]

Lunch Date - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

The Secretary

Synopsis: While out for lunch, Min-Su struggles to voice his needs.

A/N: This storyline is going to be a slow burner, but trust me... It'll be worth it. I really want to build up the tension and show how much Min-Su struggles with being his own advocate. I also wrote the first two pieces at work today, and had to resist the urge to write the third because I have so many other characters I'm writing for that I'm slowly losing track!

Park Min-Su had taken you to lunch today, or rather, his father had insisted he take you to lunch. The restaurant was on the top floor of a high-rise building, with 360 views of the Seoul skyline. It was a cloudless day, the sun streaming through the windows and bathing you in the most exquisite golden hue. Min-Su was hot, his shirt and suit jacket clinging to him as he fiddled with his tie. He could see you biting your bottom lip as you studied the menu, could smell your perfume clinging to your shirt. Your bare legs were crossed, your heeled foot tapping against the table as you hummed quietly.

He couldn’t bare to look up, couldn’t bare to make eye contact with you. Your presence was almost stifling, Min-Su barely holding it together when you were around. You were his secretary, you were meant to work for him, and yet you spent most of your time telling Min-Su to tell you what to do. “Would you like me to get you a coffee?” You’d asked him that morning, as he sat at his desk adjusting his too-tight tie, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing. “Uhh…” He looked wildly around, unsure if you were talking to him, despite the fact it was just you and him in his office. “Mr Park,” you smiled, coming to sit next to him at the expansive mahogany desk he had no desire to sit at. “If you’d like me to get you a coffee, please just ask.” “O-ok,” he stammered. He did want a coffee, you always made it exactly the way he liked it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you. he could barely maintain eye contact with you, all too aware of your nipples ever so slightly visible through the fabric of your shirt. You busied yourself with the day’s agenda, handing Min-Su various files, explaining each one in detail. You would wait patiently until he asked you for a drink, knowing that he wanted one. You couldn’t understand why he found it so hard to ask for things, but he was constantly silent. He finally plucked up the courage, and you brought him his coffee, just the way he liked it.

He peeked up at you from the menu and your eyes met. You had red lipstick on today, one that contrasted perfectly against the cream colour of your shirt. You smiled at him, and Min-Su forgot to take a breath. He was terrible around women, but you were something else entirely. He’d thought about you many times over the few months you’d been working for him. He thought about how, if he’d been a confident man, he’d have asked you out on a date. He’d have pressed you against the glass windows of his top floor office and undressed you, before fucking you against his desk. But as it stood, he could barely say your name, his words only coming out as the faintest whisper. You were so confident, so sure of yourself; a lioness working for a mouse. “I think I fancy the ravioli,” you smiled. “What are you getting?” There it was again, his complete inability to hold any form of conversation with you. You intimidated him, but in the best way possible. He didn’t really like the look of anything on the menu other than the chicken, but the chicken came with mushrooms and Min-Su couldn’t stand them. You knew that of course, it was your business to know everything about him, but you wanted to see if he’d say something. “Maybe the chicken,” he mumbled, taking a gulp of water. He didn’t know why he couldn’t voice his opinion, why he was so scared to open his mouth. He supposed it came from a lifetime of having everything planned out for him. from the moment he’d been born, he was told where to go, what to do, who to be and what his future would entail. His father was a stern man, and years of fearing his wrath had reduced Min-Su to a timid little lamb. He struggled to ask for help, struggled to have his voice heard by a man who couldn’t be bothered to listen.

The waiter came to take your order and Min-Su asked for the chicken, not mentioning the fact that he didn’t like mushrooms. He could so easily have asked for them to be substituted for something else, and his inability to speak up for himself made you feel sad for him. Lunch arrived, and you watched him push the food around his plate, the smell of them making him feel sick. “If you don’t like mushrooms, why don’t you ask them to take them off the plate? They could always give you something else.” “I don’t want to be a bother,” he said, shrugging. He wanted to be able to speak up, but he was terrified of people turning around and laughing right in his face. You leaned forward towards his plate, piercing the soft buttery fungi with your fork before popping it into your mouth, winking at Min-Su.

You were so confident, so bold. Min-Su didn’t understand how you had such certainty in your actions. You never flustered, never faltered. He liked the way you were so unashamedly yourself; he found it incredibly sexy. You didn’t care what others thought, and Min-Su wished he could be like you. As you headed back to the office, you turned to him. “You shouldn’t be afraid to tell people what you want,” you told him. “You should try it sometime.”

That night, Min-Su thought of all the things he’d tell you he wanted if he was brave enough. He’d tell you he wanted to kiss to you, to taste you, to make love to you in every corner of the office. He’d tell you that he didn’t want to be a CEO, that he didn’t want to sit at a desk all day. He’d tell you he wanted to be with you, to love you and hold you and never let you go. But the next morning, he couldn’t get the words to leave his mouth. You were in a green dress today, one that clung to your waist, hips and the curve of your ass. He wanted to tell you that you look beautiful today, but his mouth wouldn’t move. He couldn’t tell you any of the things he really wanted to say, but he could ask for something simple. “Excuse me?” he said, as you dropped off his daily agenda. “Please could you make me a coffee?”

[jeyunhos]

Reputation | jyh

pairing: professor!yunho x college student!fem!reader cw: power dynamics, professor x student, cunnilingus, 18+ minors do not interact. Summary: Your creative writing professor is so hot you're about to fail his class. Dying to help you, the both of you figure out a new method to increase your penmanship. A/N: glasses yunho is driving me crazy, you hear me, CRAZY

You ever had a teacher with a sort of reputation? The crazy one, the smelly one, the strict one... There's probably a repertoire of clichés and boxes you could fit every single one of this semester's teachers in, but recently, you had grown fond of one particular class: Creative Writing, with professor Jeong Yunho, the dreamy one.

Yunho had a reputation alright, a reputation as the one teacher every girl fell for. Leave alone his absolutely stunning looks, he was kind, patient, and gentle, an all-rounder of a teacher who could instruct a rock on how to write wonderful pieces if he put his mind to it.

One problem, you didn't care for his class at all. Sure, it was fun to try but you were close to failing due to your enormous crush on the man, and you figured your were doomed to continue that way, since the only way to get over him, was to get under him.

You were busy daydreaming about being tied to his office chair as you walked the corridors when you heard your name bounce off the walls and a light trotting behind you. You were snapped back to reality and turned around only to see professor Yunho himself joining you with a huff of his cheeks.

"Phew! I got to catch you." he said excitedly, panting lightly from the sudden outburst of energy he had used.

"Professor" you started, trying to hide your delight and surprise "Is something wrong?" you asked, wondering what he would probably need you for.

"Do you have ten minutes before you head home? I've got to talk to you about your recent piece." in between his large hand he wiggled a foldered set of printed sheets with your most recent submission written on them.

"Sure, right here?" you asked, looking around at the vast prying eyes around you.

He answered with a shake of his head "Join me in my office for a bit."

You followed behind the man through the crowded maze that your school was, he was fast due to his long legs, and hence you were walking slightly behind him. The breeze would carry a bit of his cologne into your nose whenever it blew, heightening the infatuation you already held for him.

Rumors were also true, he was a complete gentleman. The second you got to his office he opened the door and moved aside to let you past and held the chair out for you to sit.

"So," he started as he fixed his suit jacket the moment he sat down "I'm worried about your final grade." Yunho went straight to the tone, which let you know that whatever fantasy you were having about being bent over the desk was not happening.

"What do you mean?" you feigned innocence, knowing damn well that you were close to repeating the class. Well, not that you would mind staring at him for another whole semester, but it wasn't exactly something you could afford.

"Yes, however..." he started, pulling the file open to look at the printed version of your work "Despite having submitted every assignment, your scores have been constantly low and that's because," he cleared his throat, as if trying to find less harsh words to describe your work "the pieces are just not good."

You felt a blush, proof of your embarrassment, creep around your face through your neck, your sight lowered in shame, something he immediately noticed. Your final project was writing a short story about romance, with a twist, and an ending of your choice.

"Let's go over some lines slowly" he said with a gentle, charming smile "For example, this one 'in that moment they felt they were falling in love'" he explained. "Do you see what is wrong with that line?"

"They weren't falling in love?" you asked innocently, not really sure of what he wanted you to answer.

Your little joke caused him to laugh in the form of a chuckle. He was mostly amused by the hardness of your head. He leaned backwards and looked up at you.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked nonchalantly, as if he was asking 'how have you been?' to an old friend.

With you, you thought to yourself, but of course that couldn't leave your lips.

"Not exactly sure." you admitted finally.

He let out a sigh and nodded mostly to himself .

"In writing, you don't really want to tell the audience what the characters are doing or feelings are experimenting, it reduces imagination to a mere instruction." he explained "You want to tell them about everything else but the actual feeling. So, say, if the characters were falling in love, instead of saying it straight out, you want to describe the way their hearts raced, or how they couldn't pry their eyes from each other despite the chaos around them, or how they longed for something so much more than a mere graze of their lips." he tried to explain to you, but in your face he could see you were not grasping it. "But I guess that's hard if you've never experienced it first hand."

You nodded along with every bit of his explanation, and there was a hint of disappointment and hurt on your face when he finally finished his sentence.

Picking up on this, he gently tapped his hands on the desk and reincorporated himself to lean forward "Let's try something else." he proposed, catching your attention "I'll give you a week, rewrite the thing, but don't do romance, do erotica instead." he asked with a smile on your face.

"Erotica?" you inquired, quite surprised by this new task.

"It's hard to say we have experienced love" he said "But we've all been aroused, it's in our programming as mammals" with a grin, he handed the folder over to you "All my notes are there, write some erotica, send it to my e-mail, and we can talk about your final grade, alright?"

With a swipe of his hand, he ended up dismissing you. You obliged and left the office, albeit reluctantly since being alone with him had been a delight, and headed home to begin working.

Not that you were foreign to fantasizing about sexual scenarios, especially involving him, but putting them into words was a whole other ordeal. 'We all have been aroused' these words resonated in your head, and so, you got all hands on deck.

Four days later, your final manuscript was in his inbox, and only a few hours afterwards you got another e-mail:

jyunho@school.com: Please meet me at 8:00pm in my office to discuss the grade.

8? That was kind of late, but you figured he was in a rush since the semester was ending soon and all the final grades had to be uploaded to the school online system. Plus, it's not like you were exactly in the position to refuse anything, your passing grade was at stake.

You dolled yourself up a bit right before the agreed time, just in case you figured, and went on your merry way. The university halls were creepily abandoned due to the late hour save for some offices with the lights still on, part of being the end of the semester you guessed, and it made you feel uneasy; said feeling disappeared almost immediately once you reached the right door. "Professor Jeong Yunho" it read.

"Come in" you heard a raspy voice call after you knocked.

He himself was a sight to behold. Hair slightly disheveled, suit jacket laid over the back of the chair, black turtleneck shirt on. He looked tired and felt like so.

"So?" you said with a cheery voice, trying to lighten the mood, as you approached the chair.

He let out a sigh, similar to last time but now more exasperated "Still not good." he blurted out.

You could tell his guard was down, because the Yunho you knew as your teacher wouldn't talk so roughly, yet there was something thrilling about said demeanor, something inherently hot to seeing him so worked up.

"You keep describing the actions, this is even worse than the romance one." he added some salt to your wound "'they kissed roughly and she was pinned down to the bed'? This is not a report, this is supposed to be exciting, where's the erotism, the magnetism, the-" as he was ranting on his own with you sitting across his desk, looking amiss of words to be honest, he stopped himself half way when he came to a sudden realization.

"The...?" you tried to ask once he was staring at you in utter silence.

"Close your eyes." he ordered.

"What?" despite your eagerness to obey him, almost naturally, you had to double check that you were listening correctly

"We're going to do a little exercise, close your eyes." he said once more.

You finally obliged and shut your lids. You weren't entirely sure what was happening around you, but promptly you felt a presence behind you.

"I'm going to do a couple of things, I want you to describe to me how you feel when I do them." you could tell he was the presence you had felt from the direction of his voice.

Fuck. You had to be careful, this was getting dangerous. Despite your eagerness to be his little toy, you knew if you didn't tread lightly you could find yourself reported or expelled if he didn't feel the same. So, you made a mental note to actually pay attention and figure out if this little predicament could work out in your favor.

As you were conjuring your evil plan in your brain, he began to work on his own. You felt the tip of his fingers on the back of your hands, slowly crawling up through your forearms, your biceps, and finally your shoulders.

"Talk to me" he urged when you didn't respond "How do you feel?" he repeated himself.

"Warm." you said out loud, your eyes still shut.

It's not like you weren't trying, really, but his touch had wiped your mind blank effectively.

His head shook firmly in disappointment, there was no getting through to you no matter how complex the method he was using, and how certainly... risky. But he couldn't deny this new way was getting him excited, possibly in ways it was not exactly code-of-conduct-appropriate.

"I'll help you." he leaned over further to repeat the movement he had done seconds before, his head hovering next to your ear. "When I touch your hand your skin feels soft, almost silk-like. I grow curious, so my hands travel further up, your forearm is delightful, it sets within me a hunger I can only sasiate with the subtle violence of a bite, but I can't bring myself to do it, not just yet, there's so much I want to explore, so I continue my path until I get to your neck."

His words were beyond arousing to you. The way his hands and body mimicked everything he spoke of was setting your skin ablaze. You wanted him badly, and you had made it your resolve to finally get him to sleep with you, you didn't know how, but you were determined to lead him where you wanted.

"Try again." he instructed, his hands moving away from your neck. "Tell me how you feel."

You were slightly disappointed at the lack of contact, and you were worried you might have missed your window. However, something else entirely caused a gasp out of you. His lips were now grazing the base of your neck and you could feel the hot breath that came out of his mouth straight onto your skin.

"My skin feels like crawling with heat," you began to say "A tingle travels from my hand, following your touch all the way up to my neck; my expectations grow and I wonder just how far you will take this. Your lips wake the goosebumps whenever they touch, and I crave to feel them over my body."

As you spoke, you could lightly hear his breath hitch and, for a second, you could swear he was going to do it, he was going to kiss your neck, but he stopped.

"Seems like you got it" he said as he pulled back after clearing his throat. He moved from behind your chair to lean against his desk, his rear almost laying on it; his arms were crossed over his chest once you opened your eyes.

"Hardly" was all you could say, and you stole a glance at how his pants seemed to have gotten tighter on the front.

"Hardly?" he asked, his head tilting "Is there anything else you're struggling with?"

It was going to be like that, huh? He was not going to drop the teaching charade. Well, you knew a thing or two about playing the student in despair.

You stood up from where you were sitting and walked over to Yunho, your hands hidden innocently behind your back. He was getting a kick out of it, you could tell, perhaps Mr. Jeong was a lot more sinful that he looked at bare glances; well, you'd indulge him.

"Kisses, for example, how do you go from 'looking at each other' to 'kissing' without saying something lame like, I don't know, 'they kissed'?" now you were guiding the situation to where you wanted it to go, you figured.

"Well, with kisses you want to start slow, not quite jump right to it." he began to explain, still keeping his intellectual facade "Like..." he continued, his hand slowly raising to land on the back of your neck, his fingers playing lightly with the back of your hair. His eyes landed on yours and you could finally feel the desire that had been pooling between your legs mirrored in the darkness of his pupils "...this."

Once he finished his sentence he leaned in closer, his lips brushed yours and you tried to close the gap, but he pulled back the slightest. 'Fuck' you thought, but the second you wanted to pull back the hand that was holding your neck forced you otherwise.

Your lips melted together with his almost immediately and he had to inhale a sharp breath; it was only innocent for a couple of seconds, because after his free arm snaked around your waist, his palm to your lower back, all logic fell off the window. From both parts.

The chaste, educational kiss faded quickly and was replaced by his tongue brushing against your bottom lip in attempt to ask for entrance, a permission that was granted immediately. He was exploring the entirety of your mouth, ravishing on the taste of your tongue against his.

It wasn't long before both of you were consumed by the unmistakable desire to break one sacred rule, of diving into unexplored taboo of sleeping with your teacher. He picked up on it rather quick, and shortly he was pulling away.

He bounced himself off his desk and his hands guided you by the hips to turn around, flipping your positions. His hand was certainly gentle, but with such sturdiness you wouldn't even dare disobey his silent commands. One of them held your hair and pushed it down, bending you over his desk with your clothes still on.

This last statement didn't remain true for long, as his needy fingers quickly dived on your lower garments, dipping roughly inside the waistbands and pulling down altogether.

His lips pursed at the sight of your bare ass and cunt all laid down for him, his right thumb trailing your slit and clit teasingly.

"I don't have to narrate what happens next, do I?" he asked. It was his own version of asking for consent.

"I'll still take notes." you teased back, looking over your shoulder.

He let out an amused chuckle and you saw him begin fumbling with his zipper. There was a rumor that he was packing down there, and you were now confirming it with your own eyes. Not ginormous, but certainly a bit above average.

From his pocket, he pulled out a condom which he carefully ripped open to roll it over his shaft; once securely wrapped, he positioned himself on your entrance and slowly began to push it. The slightly painful stretch was delightful, poetic almost, to you.

"You okay?" he grunted under his breath, trying his best to not start pouding right away.

You simply replied with a positive hum and that was everything he needed. With enough force he began to thrust into you, deep and sensual at the beginning, and you could feel him gradually getting rougher.

You were smart enough to keep your moans at bay, but when he started to push all the way in to the point it felt like rearranging you, it became harder and harder. He couldn't be sure that there weren't other teachers around, since it was still around eight thirty, so he had to help you somehow; one of his hands as kept on your hip as grip and the other one had to be pressed up against your mouth. The palm was so wide it almost covered your nose too, and he was extra careful not to accidentally suffocate you.

As a result, your head was pulled back and slightly to the side where he was pressing from, leaving an area of your neck free to his admiration. His thrusts continued to pick up the pace and roughness, and at some point they became so strong the desk began to slide backwards, making an annoying, dragging sound with every thrust.

Yunho was forced to let go of your hip and bend over to hover over you. He was tall enough that his head reached yours and his hand was able to hold the other edge of the desk to stop it from dragging on the floor. As a consequence, your skin was near his lips once more, and he decided to give in to his previous temptation and bite down gently on your skin, leaving a hot mark behind but not a bruise.

"I can't hold back much longer." he said into your ear in an almost apologetic tone.

Your agreement was muffled by his hand, but you let him know it was okay. He continued to grunt and pant heavily against your skin with rough, powerful thrusts into your cunt, but the rhythm was more erratic, and you could tell he was close.

Finally, with a moan of your name that he muffled with your neck, he came.

Being honest, you were a little disappointed that you hadn't gotten to orgasm yourself, but having fucked him was already prize enough, you were not about to get greedy on an already wrong and thoroughly enjoyable sexual encounter.

As you were sunked in these thoughts, he pulled out from you and began fixing his clothes rather quickly. Following his lead, you leaned back up and reached down to pick up your own until his voice stopped you.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing?" he asked, reaching quickly after putting himself back in his pants to avoid you from putting your own back up. "No, no." he continued quickly, his free hand bending you over once more. "Rule number one of erotica: the woman is never left unsatisfied."

You weren't sure what he meant by that, was he going to fuck you again? Maybe, but you weren't sure he could just right away, sure he was young but.. oh.

The long lap at your clit from behind surprised you greatly and caused a long, quiet moan out of you. You could feel him lapping and sucking at your slit with renewed energy, and it was driving you insane just how well he was eating you out.

As he continued his ministrations with his tongue from behind, one of his thumbs reached for your clit, circling it slowly and deliberately, he knew pretty damn well where everything was and he was not about to be shy about it.

Your legs began to tremble, and he was moaning into your womanhood with every taste of it which only added fuel to the fire within you. It wasn't long before you started to feel the familiar tingle on your stomach., and seconds later you allowed yourself to cum against his mouth.

Satisfied with his performance and having reached his goal, he helped you with your clothes back up and walked over back to his chair with you still bent over the desk as you regained your composure. His head tilted so his cheek was almost touching the wooden surface and he could be eye-level with you.

"I expect your story by tomorrow, okay?" he said with an innocent smirk.

"Yes, professor" you said in between pants before you raised to your feet again "And thank you, this was very useful." you added.

That night, you went back to your home and began writing in extreme detail everything that man had done to you; all while changing names, locations, and times, of course. Nothing more erotic than keeping a secret, after all.

The story came out naturally and easily, with a newfound talent that you could have sworn was not there before, somehow Jeong Yunho had managed to fuck it out of you, and so, when you began to struggle with the last lines of your work, the image of his smiling face gave you a strike of genius:

'..and as the young girl hardly waddled out of the room, feeling refreshed, brought anew, she came to the realization that some men really do live up to their reputation."

[storiesofsvu]

One ask wasn't enough! So, how about these prompts, with Cabot?

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" and

"Don't... I'm ticklish!"

Thank youuuu 🥰🥰

Thank YOU so much!! Here ya go!

Insomnia Strikes

Alex Cabot x reader (more implied than anything else lol) Warnings: mentions of anxiety/insomnia, I think that's about it. Just a nice little comfort one shot.

Being the natural night owl that you were, you never had any problems swapping shifts around when someone on the squad got roped into an overnight shift. You honestly didn’t mind it, you basically chilled alone, ate snacks, scrolled through your phone and answered a handful of phone calls that the desk clerk downstairs didn’t catch. It was a very rare occasion where something actually made its way to you prior to six in the morning and by then you were usually only on intake, passing it off to the day team before heading home. It was a nice little break from the chaos that the squad room and a courtroom normally were.

You spent the first few hours catching up on paperwork, finishing all the nearly late files, scrawling your signature across them before popping them into Cragen’s inbox. The squad slowly disappearing as late evening hit until only Olivia remained and you tossed a crumpled up piece of paper onto her desk, telling her to get out of there. You knew she liked to stick around as late as she could, not wanting anyone to really be trapped all alone in the building and she was quick to ask if you’d eaten dinner yet. You laughed, saying you had your breakfast before you came in and that she better get home to get some sleep. If she complained of being tired when you finally did have to call her in, you’d hold it against her. That finally got her going, giving you a warm smile as she wished you goodnight and finally left the precinct.

Once office lights began to flick off and the downstairs desk attendant clocked in things fell into a state of stillness, quiet and calm seeping through the air. Your paperwork was actually done, the most recent case you’d been working on waiting on the jury and you appeared to be free from actual work. So you started on the more mundane tasks, things that didn’t get done until you were on night shift. You started out by cleaning your desk, tossing out old receipts, crumpled up pastry bags, pencils that were so slivered down they couldn’t be used. Grabbing the collection of coffee mugs from the bull pen you headed into the break room, loading up the sink with hot soapy water to take care of the dishes in there. The cleaning crew usually came through around midnight, so you tackled the fridge, throwing out anything and everything that wasn’t labelled, had been in there for too long or seemed to be growing its own ecosystem.

After a very thorough hand wash, you wandered back to your desk, phone in your hand as you ordered some food for dinner, though maybe it was technically your lunch. Having no messages, calls or emails waiting, you pulled out your I-pad, sitting it on your desk as you settled back into your chair, pulling up your most recent binge. You were starting to get a little antsy twenty minutes in, your foot tapping against the floor over and over again. If it were day shift you’d usually caught a case or had to trek over to the DA’s office by now, but you were still just sitting there wishing you had an easier way to get your steps in. Your prayers were partially answered when the desk sergeant called up saying your food was there and you got to jog down the stairs to pay the driver before wandering back up them to your desk.

You ate a couple of slices, snagged a soda from the machine and set the box off to the side as you turned your attention back to the screen in front of you. The cleaning crew came and went, efficiently working through the space in no time, waving a friendly hello and then goodbye to you once they were finished. It wasn’t much later after that when you heard the shuffling of feet coming from the hallway and you glanced up, half expecting the desk clerk to be coming to take advantage of the vending machines. Your head tilted when instead you spotted Alex, loose leggings and a fuzzy sweater wrapped around her frame, hair messily tied back.

“Lex?” You greeted and her head lifted up, a small smile on her cheeks when she saw you. “What’re you doing here? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna have to go wake up a judge.”

“No.” She replied with a small huff, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple before pulling over a spare chair and dropping into it. “Tried your apartment first, neighbour said they saw you leaving for work late so I figured you were stuck on night shift.”

“And you thought I needed a babysitter?” You asked with a tease and she shook her head at you.

“Long day. I just wanted to make sure I got to see you at some point.” She yawned, her hands sneaking under her glasses to rub furiously at her eyes.

“You could’ve just called.”

She glanced up at you, a nervous look in her eyes as she chewed on her lip for a minute before letting out a breath, “I can’t sleep. Can I just stay here?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, reaching out to squeeze at her knee, “course you can. Did you at least try to sleep? Or were you still up on the couch pouring over case files?”

“I did.” She revealed with a sigh, “stared at the ceiling tossing and turning for almost four hours before I gave up. My brain just won’t shut up.”

“Did you take your meds?” You asked and she glanced up at you with a sheepish look on her face, softly shaking her head.

“I ran out on Monday; didn’t realize I was so low and I couldn’t get an appointment for a refill until next Tuesday. I took the anxiety one at eight and doctor’s orders say I can’t take melatonin with it, so I’m just kinda out of luck.”

“Shit.” You frowned, squeezing at her leg again, “next time we’ll make sure you always have an immediate refill on hand.”

“Thanks.” Her hand caught yours, squeezing it softly as she smiled across at you.

“You eat?”

“Wasn’t really hungry.” She shrugged, “had a granola bar.”

“How about you dig into this,” you tugged the pizza box from the other side of the desk, flipping it open in front of her and when the smell wafted over to she felt her stomach begin to grumble. “I’ll see what they have for tea in the break room.”

Leaving a kiss on the top of her head you left her to it, commenting for her to change the Netflix to whatever she wanted while you were gone. Digging through the break room you were pleasantly surprised to find a box of chamomile tea, turning on the kettle and brewing a mug exactly the way Alex liked it. When you crossed back into the bull pen she was curled up in the spare chair, your NYPD hoodie you normally stashed in the lower drawer of your desk draped over her lap as her hands played with the fraying cuffs.

A warm smile overtook your features as you placed the mug down in front of her, kissing her cheek again before reminding her to eat. With a tired sigh she finally leant forward, taking a slice of pizza, a pleased groan leaving her when she found it still warm.

She’d chosen one of your mutual favourite comfort movies, a classic rom com with no drama or terribly corny jokes set in the city you’d made your home. She ate her slice and sipped at her tea while she watched, relaxing into your side as she did so. You had to answer a couple of texts over the course of the hour but otherwise you were pleasantly occupied and comfortable. There were about five minutes left in the movie when she was fully slumped on your shoulder, you could feel her steady breathing and were certain her eyes had finally closed even if she wasn’t asleep yet. Your fingers poked gently at her side and she grumbled, flinching away from your touch without moving her head off your shoulder.

“Don’t. I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “lets get you to the crib, you can get some actual sleep.”

“Come with me?” She finally looked up at you with sapphire puppy dog eyes and a pout on her lips. You smiled softly, letting out a breath of a laugh.

“Okay, but only ‘til you fall asleep. I am on duty after all.”

“Fine.” She scowled, yawning, her eyes still drooping as she reluctantly stood from the chair, your hoodie still curled in her arms.

Alex shuffled away to the bunk room, letting herself in and leading you to the bunk burrowed in the corner. You grabbed a couple of extra pillows and blankets, making sure she was more than comfortable, tucked in and relaxed as she curled up on her side face you. Perched on the edge of the bed you smoothed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyes fell shut again, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you.” She murmured; her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Anytime baby.” You whispered back, fingers trailing across her cheek before you kissed her forehead.

By the time you’d sat upright she was out like a light, soft snores echoing through the small room and a small smile crept onto your lips. Pulling out your phone you quickly set an alarm so she would have enough time to get home and get dressed properly for the day before having to return to the DA’s office and quietly made your way from the room. You knew it wasn’t much, but it really was the little things, knowing that whenever Alex was fighting a bout of insomnia she found solace and relief in you, that no matter where you were, she would eventually be lulled into comfort and thus sleep as long as you were around.

________________________

@mickey-gomez @cabotfan42 @detective-giggles @red1culous @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @maximoffcarter @sapphicqueenofdonuts @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts

[velvetyh]

⌜Between Deadlines and Desires⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ colleague!Sangyeon x fem!reader (corporate world; colleague!au) ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ sangyeon really admires you from afar and respects you. but what happens after you get disrespected at work? ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 7.9k words ꒰ TW ꒱ 18+, reader and Sangyeon are both overworked, reader gets humiliated by her asshole of a boss, the big boss is a misogynist, sex in a public setting (at work), oral (both receiving), fingering, p in v, protected sex (from me, I know, shocking, right?), multiple orgasms (for reader), facial, fluffy end? ꒰ NOTE ꒱ it was supposed to be self-indulged (yeah, the humiliation happened to me but not the rest lol) but since my colleague is now an ass, it's just a basic colleague!au fic! Enjoy!! (I'm gonna ignore the fact that i focused on the wrong colleague at my work since the beginning I'm so dumb) ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ nope!

୧ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

The atmosphere at work was quiet, your tall building staring down at the long queue of commuters stuck in traffic for the past two hours. The only sounds disturbing the silence of your floor were your fingers tiredly typing on the keyboard and the scattered manly voices in the conference room on the other end of the corridor, a meeting dragging on well beyond the originally scheduled end time.

Downing the rest of your now cold cup of coffee, you stood up, heels clicking on the floor as you walked past the conference room, the voice of your colleague and your boss mixing with some unfamiliar ones in a heated discussion.

You sighed, the bright red numbers of the digital clock on the wall showing 21:09, reinforcing the exhaustion in your limbs. You tried your best to relieve your eyes from constantly staring at your computer screen without smudging your mascara, which was not easy. You defeatedly shook your head from side to side as you heard your boss arguing with a client for the nth time tonight, his voice suddenly becoming louder as the conference room’s door swung open.

“Yeah, I’ll look if we have it in the archives room,” you recognised the stressed voice of Sangyeon, your colleague, as he closed the door behind him and walked in the opposite direction of the break room.

Once the dishwasher was loaded, you took the same direction as him, ready to return to your desk to clock out and go home. Your shoes clicked again on the tile flooring, the cold light of the archives room spilling into one of the many sinuous corridors that composed the building.

Peeking inside the room, you noticed Sangyeon’s broad back clad in a tight white shirt, his muscles tensing even more as he was rummaging through a binder for some documents.

“Where the fuck is that document,” you heard him mumble, his head snapping to the side as you knocked on the wooden door, your gesture startling him.

“Do you need help with something?” you kindly asked, slowly making your way towards him.

“Y/N? Why are you still here?” he blinked, a file in his hand.

“I had some contracts to proofread and some international clients to call. Do you need help?”

“Yeah, sort of. Do you know if we ever made our American clients sign a new contract last year? I can’t find it,” you quickly looked at the name of the client on the file that he was carrying and nodded.

“I think we did. But that’s not the right binder. You’re looking through the accounting one, you should look through the administrative one,” turning around, Sangyeon watched you crouch down to get the right binder, his eyes remaining a second too long on your ass, your curves enhanced by your tight pencil skirt.

Setting down the binder in front of you, Sangyeon’s figure towering over your shoulder, eyes trying to read the documents you were rapidly skimming through, your hands abruptly stopping and opening the folder once you found what you were looking for.

“Here, it should be that one,” you mumbled and handed him the confidential document with a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver Y/N, I hope you know that,” he pointed a gentle finger in your direction as he walked backwards, a smile decorating his lips as he went back inside the conference room.

Feeling nice enough to help your poor, stressed colleague, you gathered all the papers he got out of the binder and put them back in their initial spots before locking the archives room.  

You had just finished cleaning your desk and prepared your to-do list for the next day when you heard your boss thanking the clients, the voices slowly going to the elevators before disappearing. A frown appeared as you heard the coffee machine in the break room run again.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to drink another coffee? You’re going to have a heart attack at this rate,” you rested your handbag on the kitchen counter, your remark startling Sangyeon as his drained gaze was fixated on the black liquid dropping into his cup.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep appearing behind or next to me so suddenly,” he managed to joke and you giggle, a small smile appearing on your face.

His gaze dropped a second on your pretty mouth before going back to look you straight in the eyes.

“Thank you for your help, by the way,” he mumbled, playing with the spoon he had in hand.

“It’s fine, I thought I could help since they were my clients before he arrived and changed everything.”

A new boss meant a restructuring of the different clients and cases between colleagues. Your boss thought you weren’t efficient enough to deal with those people, so he decided to give you some other clients to deal with and let Sangyeon take care of everything.

“I don’t know why he gave them to me,” he stated, dropping a spoonful of sugar in his coffee, “they keep complaining and want you to be in charge again.”

“You should tell them that you are competent enough to take care of their files and will do your best to fulfil the assigned tasks,” you simply shrugged, feeling a rush of pride in your chest at how the clients wanted you instead of Sangyeon as a professional.

“You should really stop with this and maybe go home to wind down,” you pointed at the coffee he had almost finished drinking since you started talking, “it’s not good for you to consume this much caffeine and stay behind this late.”

He shrugged, taking his last sip.

“I don’t have anyone or anything waiting for me at home so it’s better if I just work as much as I can,” you shook your head at his words and patted your blazer, realising that you had forgotten your phone on its charging station on your desk.

“Well I’m exhausted, so I’m going home. See you tomorrow ?” you suggested with a smile, and he nodded, mumbling a small ‘good night’ as his eyes followed the way your hips swayed as you made your way to the elevators.

Your colleague sat back down at his desk, his now empty cup in hand. He stared at the document in front of him, his mind filled with the pretty smiles that you gave him and how tight your skirt was around your ass and hips.

He groaned, shifting in his office seat as heat rushed down his pants. You were so nice and pretty, always ready to help anyone with a smile on your face, your intelligence and patience striking him.

His heart hammered hard in his chest, not knowing if it was because of the desire he felt for you or the 9 cups of coffee he had throughout the day.

The poor man was stressed, to say the least. Every employee was overworked in the office, but your boss being the misogynist king he is, thought that men could handle the pressure better and gave them all the important clients that were once managed by female colleagues.

Genius move, right?

Sangyeon sighed deeply.

Right now, if a genie granted him three wishes, one of them would be to lay on your couch, his face pressed against your chest as your hands would caress his back and massage his head to help him relax. He craved to feel your steady heartbeat against his cheek, your sweet fragrance and fruity shower gel invading his nostrils.

He sighed in contentment at the thought, abruptly shaking his head and slapping his cheeks, trying to get himself out of this lustful reverie.

“Focus, bro,” he mumbled to himself.

He was at work, it was not the time nor the place to have those kinds of thoughts.

Sangyeon tried everything to get you out of his mind, but it was impossible; when he would start reading the contract, he would think of how, a few hours prior, you offered him your help in a heartbeat, your bright smile shone in only his direction and how you were concerned about his unhealthy caffeine consumption. He loved the attention, more than he was willing to admit, but it felt so inappropriate to crush on his own colleague.

Yet, Sangyeon couldn’t get you out of his head. He was always attentively listening when you were giving him advice, presenting things in meetings, and always here to help when you were carrying boxes of paper to restock your printer or heavy binders to a meeting. Always thanking him with a bright smile or complimenting him on his strength and generosity.

He cursed himself as his dick was now painfully hard in his pants, urging him to let it free. Sangyeon deeply sighed, pondering whether what he was about to do was a good idea.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself and unbuckled his belt, dragging his office pants and boxers to the middle of his thigh, his dick finally springing free from the restraining undergarments. He deeply exhaled when his hand wrapped around his length, resting his head on his chair and closing his eyes. It twitched in his hold as he gave it a tight squeeze, grunting and hissing at the feeling.

Sangyeon thickly swallowed the embarrassment that pumped through his veins at how fast you appeared in his mind. He pursed his lips to stifle a moan, a very vivid image of you on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes as you teased the leaking tip of his cock.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he embarrassingly muttered your name in a staggered breath, his rushed hand not faltering in its fast strokes.

He adjusted himself in his seat, lowering the right armrest with his free hand to rest in a more comfortable position to keep his little business going.

Precum was oozing from the tip, giving Sangyeon an easier glide up and down his shaft. The pace he set was now agonisingly slow, mimicking the rhythm that you would probably use if you were sucking him off.

The images were really vibrant in his mind, he knew that he was about to come like he never did before. No matter the porn movie he watched or the ex-girlfriend he fucked in the past, they would probably never give him such a strong orgasm as the mere idea of you, on your knees, with his cock in your pretty mouth, would.

“Oh my god,” Sangyeon's voice was breathy, his face twisting in pleasure as his hips bucked in the air, his fist picking up the pace, squeezing his length as if it were your hand.

He swallowed thickly, preventing himself from moaning your name a second time. He was so aroused by his thoughts, yet ashamed of them, never having thought of a colleague this way.

“Y/N… keep going, I’m gonna cum,” he mumbled under his breath, his words sending warmth to his cock.

He wanted to cum so bad, but his exhausted brain was not enough for him to orgasm.  Sangyeon had automatically switched to the same usual rhythm he uses when he touches himself at home and always needed long minutes before reaching his high.

That’s when he closed his eyes, again, and stopped his movement for a brief second. His mind focused on your voice, your smile, how sweet you sound when you say his name, how that time you touched his arm as you laughed at his dumb joke…

… how pretty you would look with your legs on his shoulders, your hands gripping his biceps, prettily moaning his name as he would sliding his cock in and out of you?

It was as if his imagination had gathered just enough strength to send him the dirtiest thought he could ever imagine to cum. His cock twitched hard in his hold, a warm wave of relief washing over him as he came all over his hand and shirt, not fast enough to move it upward to avoid staining it. He swore and groaned your name, body twitching in overstimulation when the images lingered in his mind, the thought of painting your face with his seeds close to make him cum a second time in a matter of seconds.  

Sangyeon cursed himself for being such a horny idiot, ashamed of the whole situation when he realised the mess he created; the sleeve and bottom part of his shirt were stained with droplets of cum, sprinkled too high for him to be able to tuck and hide it in his pants or under his blazer.

He rushed to the bathroom, washed his hands and grabbed some toilet paper in an attempt to clean the stains on his clothes. He grumbled in annoyance when the stains only grew bigger, giving up and rushing back to his desk. What would have happened if his boss had forgotten something or worse, you witnessed him fantasizing about getting his way with you?

Fortunately, he found the spare t-shirt he kept in case he wanted to go for a run with other colleagues. He put it on, tossed his dirty shirt in his bag and clocked out, driving home with your face in his mind.

The next day, you decided to come to work around 9am, wanting to compensate for the fact that you stayed behind late last night. You waved at Sangyeon with a cute smile when you saw him already sitting at his desk, clearly oblivious to what happened in his office after you had left.

The early birds were already drinking a cup of coffee in the break room when you entered to make yourself a cup of tea. Greeting all of them and chatting with some, Sangyeon appeared right after you, trying to talk to you, but you didn’t notice it.

You slightly frowned when you heard a deep, masculine voice and loud clapping, Sangyeon’s face twisting in discomfort.

“Look how finally decided to show up! Goldilocks, aka Y/N!” your boss exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, a vicious smile decorating his face.

You didn’t like where this was going. At all.

Since Sangyeon was standing between the two of you, your boss stepped to the side to stare at you. The break room went dead silent, some hiding their laughs by sipping on their beverage while others were as surprised as you were.

“Yes?” you calmly replied, dropping your tea bag in your cup.

“Do you think that 9am is a normal time to come to work ?”

“Well, yes, after last nig-“

“Listen,” he cut you, voice becoming menacing, “I don’t care at what time you went home. It could be 6pm or midnight, I do not care. What matters to me is that you play Goldilocks and wake up whenever you want to, just because you feel like it or you’re “tired”. Everyone is tired and overworked, it’s normal in our field, but I have a business to run, okay? We are not here – especially not my lovely Anastasia at the front desk – to take your stupid little phone calls from your stupid little clients when you are not here because you’re playing Sleeping Beauty. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth, or do I need to repeat myself?” he asked, his condescending tone making your blood boil.

“Understood.” You muttered through gritted teeth, hand clutching on your tea cup, resisting the urge to throw the boiling liquid at his face in front of everyone.

This new boss was one particular character. He loved to humiliate people, especially women as if it turned him on. He was only sweet with Anastasia from the front desk, you wondered with your other female colleagues if it was her breast implants that were draining the kindness out of his cock him that he no longer had sympathy for the rest of the women in the office.

You exited the break room as he sat down at a table, acting as if he didn’t just humiliate one of his employees in front of the rest of the floor. Heart hammering in your chest and cheeks on fire, the tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes, but you managed to keep them in for the rest of the day, despite the constant appearances of your boss in your office.

His words: he wanted to make sure that Goldilocks hadn’t fallen asleep on her desk, and if she was working properly.

Wonderful. The day was going to be long.

__

5:30pm was the time you wanted to leave to go to the gym for a workout to wind down.

“Y/N? I’m glad you are still there,” your boss said as he invited himself next to you at your desk. You deeply breathed in and stood up, gathering some documents you were working on before putting them in a folder.

“Well, make it quick, I was about to leave. I have a private appointment to attend,” you lied, putting the folder away in your drawer.

“Not so fast,” he said, preventing you from taking your purse, “I need you to proofread this contract before our meeting tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a meeting tomorrow with you,” you spat, knowing your calendar per heart.

“Well, Monica wasn’t feeling so well this afternoon, so she went home and texted me that she forgot to do it. You’re efficient Y/N, I need this done before tomorrow, okay?” he patted you on the shoulder and you took a step back, wanting to defend yourself, but he had already put the file on your desk with such force that you knew that you would be in big trouble if you didn’t do it.  

When he closed the door, your eyes turned glossy, your hand frantically searching your purse for a tissue. Your eyes overflooded, your mascara running down your cheeks as you muted your sobs as best as possible. You didn’t want to attract pity from your colleagues as they walked by.

Sadly for you, Sangyeon happened to pass by and saw through the glass that you were crying. He knocked and softly opened the wooden door, head peeking through.

“Are you okay Y/N?” he asked, his gentle tone making your tears double despite your desperate attempts at keeping them in.

“Yeah, I am,” you lied, wiping your tears with your wet tissue, and throwing it in the trash to take another one as it was already drenched and covered in mascara.

“Don’t lie to me,” Sangyeon rested his binder on your desk, noticing the new file in front of you.

“Is it because of the boss?” you nodded and breathed in, sniffing before entering your password to unlock your computer, again.

“It’s starting to become too much,” you muttered, voice wavering because of the sobs that threatened to escape your mouth, “I can’t stand him and his unfairness anymore.”

“I understand,” you shook your head.

“No, you don’t,” you retorted, making Sangyeon frown. “You don’t understand, he will never treat you like this because you’re a man,” your hand shook as you clicked on some icons on your computer, trying your best to ignore Sangyeon’s pitiful eyes looking at you, “I’m not an inflatable doll with fake implants and Botox lips that laughs at his not-funny jokes, so he hates me and treats me like this.”

Silence filled your office, Sangyeon awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I don’t think it’s because of this,” he argued, and you looked up at him, eyes sending daggers as you stood up.

“Oh yeah? What is it, then?” you questioned, crossing your arms on your chest.

Sangyeon had to force himself not to get distracted by your breasts – that he found perfect, by the way, not fake like Anastasia’s or Monica’s –, resting his hand on the tall chest of drawers behind you.  

“If you are here to tell me that it is because of female sensitivity and my hormones, you can go-”

“Y/N, no,” Sangyeon interrupted you by shaking his head, amused by the silliness of your words, “I don’t think it has to do with your appearance or the fact that you are a woman,” he stopped for a second, “I think he sees you as a threat.”

“A threat?” you confusedly retorted, surprised by his words, “how?”

“I mean, yeah! You are an intelligent, clever, quick-thinking woman. You know so much about the firm, the clients, their habits and our strategies. He still doesn’t know all of this despite him being our boss for more than a year now.”

“Well, if he stopped swooning over Anastasia and Monica, maybe he would know all of this as well!” you exclaimed, frustrated, and Sangyeon smiled, a hand gently rubbing your shoulder as a sign of comfort.

“You know damn well that it’s absolutely not his priority,” he whispered and you heavily sighed, shaking your head from side to side, “maybe he’s trying to push your buttons to make you quit, so you no longer put him in the shade.”

“Well, it’s kind of working,” you mumbled, voice wavering, feeling the tears gather again in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t think like that,” Sangyeon took a step closer, grabbing your face between his hands, the gesture startling you, yet you didn’t step away. His palms were gentle and soft, loving how – despite their warmth – they managed to cool down your burning cheeks.

“He’s not worthy of your tears, do you know that? He doesn’t care if you cry because of him, the only thing that matters to him is if Anastasia will suck his dick at lunch.”

You giggled and his face broke into a smile, proud of his joke, his thumb wiping a strand tear that managed to fall from your eye while laughing.

“I like it better when you smile,” he mumbled and you felt your cheeks heating up, looking down as he took a step back, already missing his hands on your face.

“Come on,” he grabbed his binder again, gesturing to you with the head to follow him, “let’s grab a coffee before tackling this case, okay?”

While you walked back to your desk after having said coffee with your colleague, Sangyeon sat at his, not believing that he managed to touch you without getting a boner. When he saw you cry out of exhaustion behind your computer, he was tempted to drop everything and go fist his boss’ collar to give him a piece of his mind about how he treated you, but he thought it was better – for the two of you – to check on you.

When Sangyeon’s head peeked again through the doorframe a few hours later, you were about halfway done, struggling with the little work Monica had done over the months for this client.

“How is it going?” he asked, and you huffed, taking your head between your hands. The clock was closed to reach 9pm and you were nowhere near to go home.

“Monica barely did anything. Even if I stayed the whole night, I would not be able to fully proofread it. Important documents are missing, I don’t know who she called, or to whom she sent emails, it’s just a lost cause,” you desperately mumbled, Sangyeon entered your office before closing the door behind him.

Your desk lamp was killing your eyes as you showed Sangyeon some data on your computer, hoping he would come up with a solution that you were too tired to think of. His hand was resting on your desk, the other on your chair, close to your shoulder.

“Sadly you’re right, it’s a lost cause,” he crossed his arms on his broad chest, negatively shaking his head. You sighed and saved your progress, standing up. Being exhausted and on heels was not a good combo, making you lose your balance.

Sangyeon was quick to catch your forearm, preventing you from falling.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat and straightened your shirt, blinking a few times, “you’re quite reactive at 9pm after a whole working day,” you joked, and he smiled.

“That’s probably all the coffees I drink,” he joked back, his fingers still gently yet securely wrapped around your wrist.

Your eyes lingered on your shared physical touch, slowly looking up at your colleague. He remained silent, his eyes falling to your lips for a brief second before coming back to your eyes.

Hesitant, Sangyeon brought his free hand to your face, replacing a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture warmed up your body, feeling the goosebumps on the forearm he was still holding.

You were positively responding to his touch.

And he loved it.

Much to your dismay, he retracted his hand, and you looked to the side, his palms now on your shoulders. You had to stifle a moan and prevent your eyes from rolling at the back of your head when Sangyeon positioned himself behind you, his thumbs pressing on the tight knots between your shoulder blades. Inhaling deeply, enjoying the relief, your head lolled to the side and rested against his chest.

You were letting your guard down, an amazing opportunity for Sangyeon to step in.

You audibly gasped and grabbed his hand when you felt his warm lips on the side of your neck, gently kissing and nipping on the skin.

“Sangyeon,” you breathed, fingers flying to his hair, the tension on your shoulders slowly subsiding.

“Mh?” he hummed, too busy kissing your neck to answer you properly. The mere whisper of his name was enough to send electricity through his veins.

“What are you doing? What if someone passes by?” you worriedly asked, dropping your hand from his hair as realisation suddenly hit you.

A bit of self-control would be nice, Y/N. You were at work, damn it, not in a private setting.

“We’re alone in the office, don’t worry,” he mumbled against your warm skin, humming the remaining scent of your perfume, “the janitor already left, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

His voice was low, reassuring, making you give in. Sangyeon wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing your back flush against his chest as he continued to kiss your neck gently.

But his actions had riled you to the point that you could no longer content yourself with only neck kisses and a back hug. You needed more of him, his attentive and caring attitude did little to nothing to tame the growing crush that you had on him since he started at the firm.

Turning around in his hold, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips on his in a fierce kiss. Sangyeon hummed in surprise against your kiss but immediately gave in, his hands resting on your hips, drawing circles with his thumbs on your skirt. Your hands explored his broad, clad back, getting wetter at how well you could feel his muscles under the fabric.

“I need you,” you managed to mumble as you pulled away, Sangyeon’s hand travelling from your hips to your neck at your words, pulling you into another kiss that was way more intense and rushed than the previous one.

Tongues fought for dominance, teeth clashed and collided against one another, hands became adventurous, and the atmosphere suddenly changed in your office as you let desire and need replace the despair and exhaustion you both felt.

Sangyeon’s hands came back to your lower back, gently tucking away the shirt from your skirt, sneaking under the fabric to feel your warm skin. You could tell that he wanted more, so you took one of his hands in yours and made it land on your ass, feeling Sangyeon smile into the kiss and give it a harsh slap. The sting was delicious, making you whine and bite his lower lip when he did it again.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to get this close to you,” Sangyeon pulled away, his warm breath hitting your lips, his fingers unzipping the back of your pencil skirt.

“Are you serious? I never thought a guy like you would be interested in me,” you admitted, unbuttoning his office shirt.

“I mean, how could I not be? You’re gorgeous, intelligent, so nice and always so damn helpful,” he effortlessly sat you on your desk, your heels falling from your feet in the process, punctuating each compliment with a kiss, slowly making his way to the valley of your breasts.

“Have you seen our female colleagues? I wouldn’t even be surprised if I got picked last,” you mumbled and Sangyeon scoffed, slapping the side of your hip, close to your ass.

“Enough with the negative self-talk,” he grunted, his arms on either side of you to look at you deep in the eyes. “Now, will the prettiest girl in this office let me remove her shirt to show her how enough and how beautiful she is to me?” you couldn’t help but giggle, face warming up at his silly request.

Sangyeon wasted no time and undid your shirt buttons, taking in the sight of your breasts covered in a beautiful, white lace bra.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your breast, shivers exploding in your chest. You were ready to unclasp it, but Sangyeon stopped you, wanting to admire them a few seconds more before allowing you to drop your bra on your keyboard.

The imprint of his hard cock was apparent in his office pants, your hand reaching to touch it as he was caressing your chest. Sangyeon moaned, mouth diving to suck on one of your nipples, his other hand playing with the other, teasing and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Sangyeon please, don’t stop,” you breathed, spreading your legs to invite him in, which he immediately did, your core pressed flush against his lower abdomen. You whined and fisted his hair, keeping him close as you felt his dick press against your stomach, Sangyeon grunting against your nipple at your tug.

“You have such pretty breasts,” he mumbled, his tongue giving your nipples one last flicker before his mouth went lower. You whined as you felt warmth pool in your panties, Sangyeon busy grabbing your legs and spreading them apart.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, taking your body in, “spread them nice and wide for me.”

Once he was kissing the lace of your underwear, he looked up, silently asking for your consent to go further. You took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly acknowledging what was happening.

You were going to fuck your colleague.

Were you scared? No. Impatient? Hell yes. Excited? More than anyone could imagine.

Your boss and his stupid to-proofread contract were long forgotten, Sangyeon’s hands and mouth doing wonders to get your head off of everything. It was even more effective than a workout session at the gym.

The tearing of your tights got you out of your thoughts, watching Sangyeon smirk as he toyed with your undergarments, pressing a digit on the wet patch as he kissed the inner part of your thighs.

“I can’t believe you are already this wet for me and I barely did anything,” you embarrassingly looked away, and he pulled the damp panties to the side, taking in how beautiful your pussy was.

“So pretty,” he mumbled and you clenched around nothing at his praise, Sangyeon’s hands wrapping around your thighs as he wasted no time and dove his tongue between your folds.

“Sangyeon!” you exclaimed, a hand flying to your mouth at how loudly you yelled his name. Sangyeon was chuckling between your legs, loving how sensitive you were for him.

Your hand flew to his hair as you moaned out his name, feeling his tongue reaching parts between your folds that you never knew existed. His nose teased your clit, making your heart hammer in your chest faster. He was so good at eating you out, that you started to wonder if he had lots of experience to be this good.

Sangyeon’s tongue prevented you from wandering too deep in your thoughts as it focused on your most sensitive parts, making you cry out his name when you felt two fingers tease your glistering slit.

“Please Sangyeon,” you begged and he hummed against your pussy, gently inserting two fingers inside you. The stretch felt so good, his digits searching for your sweet spot each time he rutted them inside you. After a few strokes, when he realised that he had found it – thanks to a strangled moan falling from your pretty lips –, he focused on it like he was on a mission.

“Do I make you feel good, my pretty girl?” he asked from between your legs, his warm breath hitting your folds, his fingers still going in and out of you as he teasingly licked your clit.

“Y-Yeah, fuck!” you cried in a high-pitched moan, Sangyeon maintaining eye contact as the squelching sound of your pussy filled the silence, your hips bucking up against his mouth as his cock hardened at your helplessness.

Removing his digits for a short moment, you whined from the emptiness. You heard a zip but paid no mind to it, too lost in your own pleasure to care.

Sangyeon, now on his knees in front of you, had reached for his cock in his pants, stroking his shaft with his hand coated in your juices, your moans only increasing the lust he felt for you.

“Fuck Sangyeon, I’m so close,” you mumbled, hands gripping the edge of the desk, a foot resting on your desk while your other leg was resting on his shoulder, granting him more access to your core.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna see how beautiful you look coming on my tongue,” he whispered while kissing the top of your pussy, right above your clit, before diving back to make you cum. He abandoned his hard cock to trigger your g-spot again, your cries indicating to him that you were close to reaching your high.

And it didn’t disappoint. In a loud cry of his name, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. Your core squeezed his fingers, barely letting him move them inside you and your legs shook around him, your face contorting in pleasure as you fisted his hair, keeping him close to your pussy. He lapped at your juices like a starved man, his fingers teasing your clit to make you fully ride your orgasm.

“Sangyeon,” you moaned out of breath as he proudly looked at his glistening fingers. Your nipples hardened at the sight of a satisfied Sangyeon licking his digits with a smile as if he had just finished eating a tasteful dessert.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, you know that?” he asked while helping you sit up as you had laid down on your desk while orgasming, letting you finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his broad shoulders.

He kissed your lips, letting you taste yourself as your tongues waltzed together, your arms wrapping around his neck, caressing his shoulders as you were still weak from your orgasm.

“And you look so handsome when you’re eating me out, you know that?” you imitated him and he smiled, his mouth parting against yours in a breathy sigh as you reached for his cock in between your bodies.

It was even better than he had imagined the day before. It felt different than his hand, he even dared to say it felt way better. You used your two hands to stroke his shaft, one of them sometimes teasing his balls.

While looking at him, you gently spat into your palm before bringing it to his cock, Sangyeon throwing his head back at the sight.

“It feels so good, Y/N, keep going please,” you smiled, blushing at his praise, loving how handsome he looked and how hot he sounded while grunting and bucking his hips in your hand. The tip of his cock was angry, red, precum leaking from the tip as it mixed with your spit.

You quickened your pace just to tease him, only for Sangyeon to grab your wrist to slow you down.

“Stop, stop darling, I wanna last,” he chuckled before kissing you, pulling you to him. Your breasts were pressed flush against his chest, loving how warm his skin felt against your hard nipples.

“Do we have condoms?” he mumbled against your lips, and you thought about it for a second, quickly getting your sanitary pouch from your purse.

“We can still get one in Anastasias’ drawer if this one is expired,” you mumbled as Sangyeon studied it, ripping it open once he saw it was still up to date.

“No need,” Sangyeon smirked and rolled it down his shaft, throwing the wrapping next to your bra as your core clenched around the sight of his member.

Leaning on your elbows, you watched him and smiled, admiring the view his broad shoulders and abs were offering you. He did the same with you, checking your breasts and pretty face out while stroking his cock.

“I think we both like what we see, right?” you giggled, and he nodded, leaning forward to kiss you on the lips, to which you immediately responded. His cock rested against your stomach, your heart skipping a beat at how big he was.

Slightly pulling away, Sangyeon rested his forehead against yours, tapping and sliding his cock a few times against your wet core, a prominent vein deliciously grazing against your clit. You whimpered at the jolts of electricity it sent in your body, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh my god baby, you’re so tight,” he grunted, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth as you tried to keep looking deep in his brown orbits, but to no avail.

He was about halfway in, the stretch making you throw your head back, arms weakening under the weight of the pleasure Sangyeon was giving you. You moaned out his name, feeling full as his hips rested against your thighs.

Both out of breath at the new sensation, he gently grabbed you by the throat to press his lips against yours, your hands flying to his hair to prevent you from falling back on your desk.

“You’re so big,” you groaned and he smirked, two of his digits pushing your lips apart to let your tongue coat them in spit before bringing them down where your bodies met, teasing your clit in sharp circles.

“Shit, you feel so good, Y/N,” he muttered, getting lost in the warmth your pussy was engulfing his cock bit by bit till he was flushed against you.

“Move, please,” he obliged, sliding his cock in and out of you at a steady pace. Your breasts bounced at each thrust, Sangyeon’s mouth diving to litter them with love bites.

Your moans filled your closed office, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders as Sangyeon’s mouth continued its assault on your breasts. He picked up the pace, hand still steady around your throat to prevent you from squirming too much, making sure you stared into his eyes. High-pitched moans of his name fell from your lips, brows furrowing in pleasure as his dick brushed nonstop against all the spots that made you see stars, the reduction of oxygen increasing your blissful state.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” he breathlessly asked, his hands leaving your throat to travel up and down your body, mouth vividly kissing every inch of your skin. You whined, head clouded with the feeling of his dick throbbing into you, addictingly rubbing against your soft walls that wanted to trap him forever. 

He wouldn’t mind, though.

“Fuck, yeah it does,” you managed to mutter, your words being cut by the noises of Sangyeon’s hips harshly colliding against your thighs.

Sangyeon looked down, his dick twitching at how it disappeared inside your core. He enjoyed the sight, rubbing circles on your clit. The little whimpers of pleasure you were trying to stifle only encouraged him to keep going, wanting to hear again how pretty you sounded when you cum.

He briefly stilled inside you, grabbing one of your legs and lifting it on his shoulder, kissing your tight-covered ankle. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper and further into you, his free hand grabbing you by the back of your head to prevent you from falling as your nails dug dents into the skin of his forearms you were clutching onto in utter pleasure.

“Sangyeon, please,” you begged in a cry, eyes imploring god knows what. He kissed your lips to silence you, hand gently stroking your cheek. “I’m so close,” you whispered when he pulled away, chest deeply heaving as Sangyeon picked up the pace.  

Your body started feeling hot, indicating that you were closer to your release. Sangyeon felt you clench hard around his cock, giving him the signal as well, your moans increasing in volume as his hand came back in contact with your clit, rubbing it and gently slapping it to bring you closer to your peak.

“Come for me beautiful, let it all go around me,” he mumbled against your lips before capturing them in a quick kiss, his thrusts intensifying in sharpness, the new pace sending you over the edge in a loud scream of pleasure. His name and profanities fell off your lips as your legs shook, Sangyeon now gently sliding his cock in and out of you, enjoying with a smile the beautiful sight that it was to see you cum around him.

When you came back to your senses, still sensitive from your intense orgasm, you felt a mouth kissing the warm skin from one collarbone to another, warm hands on your hips.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, Y/N,” he breathed against your chest, your hand pushing some strands of hair away from his eyes.

“You already said that,” you giggled, and he chuckled, gently biting your earlobe, and making you squeal.

“I know, I just can’t get enough of it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss.

You got lost in the kiss for a brief moment, before realising something.

“Did you cum?” you questioned, hand resting on his cheek.

“It’s okay, you needed it more than-“

You sat up and kissed him, seizing the opportunity of him being distracted with your kiss to push him into your office chair, dropping to your knees.

Your tights did little to no job of shielding your knees from the cold tile flooring, but you didn’t care. You had orgasmed twice in one night, the least you could do was lend him a hand – or your mouth – to help him reach his peak as well.

When Sangyeon looked down, he almost came just by seeing you on your knees in front of him. In a swift motion, you ripped away the condom from his hard length, your hand at the base of it while you kissed your way up to the tip.

“Y/N, please don’t tease me,” Sangyeon gripped the armrests, and you smiled, your mouth wrapping around his cock, your tongue curling slowly around it, taking him in as best as you could.

Spit rolled down his length, your hand stroking what couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips bucked, making you gag, your colleague whispering a soft apology as you pulled away, a string of saliva linking your pretty lips to his cock, thumb pressing on the prominent vein wrapped around his length.

You looked up at him with lustful eyes, hollowing your cheeks, teasing the slit and sucking around the tip like you would do with a lollipop, making Sangyeon shudder in pleasure.

Without warning, your mouth swallowed his cock, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat and its weight on your tongue, his balls heavy in your palm. You stroked the wrinkly skin, earning a low grunt from Sangyeon as you kept on bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh yeah, Y/N, keep going. You're really good at this- fuck!” Sangyeon whispered, his fantasy slowly becoming a reality. His face distorted in pleasure looked down, your eyes meeting as you kept pleasuring him. He threw his head back, his hands landing in your hair as he gathered it in a messy ponytail, wanting to keep seeing your pretty face as you sucked him off.

Your jaw started hurting, like your knees, but you kept going, wanting to satisfy him as best as he satisfied you. He would never tell you, but just the fact that you let him kiss you and touch would have already been enough for him. But now, Sangyeon was not going to complain to have his dick deep in your mouth, just like he had imagined it the night before.

The moans you let out while he was fucking you came back to his mind, adding another source of pleasure to your mouth wrapped around his cock. He felt his high coming and you did too, his girthy length in your mouth slightly increasing, urging you to pick up the pace.

“Y/N, keep going, ohhh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” he warned, and you pulled away, wrapping your hand around it, keeping the same steady pace.

Sangyeon swiftly removed your hand to stroke himself, his other free hand grabbing your chin to prevent you from moving. You drew your tongue out and that was the last straw; thick, white ropes of cum landed on your face and dropped to your chest in the following second, your name escaping from Sangyeon’s lips in heavy sighs.

Getting back on your feet, you smiled at him, sitting on his lap. He slightly shuddered as your core grazed against his still-sensitive cock, his chest heaving at the force of his release.

“Thank you,” you timidly mumbled and he smiled, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

The lust had died down, the atmosphere now becoming soft and quiet, the stillness of the night engulfing you in a warm hug.

“You don’t have to thank me for nothing,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around you as he slid the chair closer to your desk, grabbing a few tissues to clean your chest and chin.

“I could thank you for plenty-“

“You don’t have to. I did it because I like you, okay?” Sangyeon mumbled and it was your turn to smile, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kissed your collarbone.

“Let’s call in sick tomorrow,” he proposed, and you gasped, ready to protest, “I wanna take you out properly.”

“But the meeting-”

“Fuck the boss and his fucking meeting. He can deal with the work on his own,” Sangyeon grunted, looking at you with tender eyes as you tamed the strands of his hair that you tugged on.

“I’m scared that he will humiliate me again because I didn’t do the work he asked me for,” you confessed, taking a deep breath. Sangyeon’s hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“He'll hear from me if he makes another inappropriate comment to you in front of everyone. Let me drive you home now,” he answered, kissing your lips before letting you slide off his lap to get dressed.  

[felibrary]

╭──╯ POUR THE ALCOHOL HEART OUT !

PAIRING: aventurine x reader

SYNOPSIS: they say love comes when you least expect it — does that also apply to former romantic relationships?; alternatively: in which a drunk aventurine gets dumped onto you by his colleagues for you to take care of. 

wordcount: 4.3k (IM CRYING WHAT THE HELL) | content & warnings: consumption of alcohol/drunk aventurine, unestablished relationship (exes), angst if you squint, topaz is referred to here by jelena (her real name), reader is mentioned to wear jewelry, hints/implications of starvation/ed (?)- not eating, insecure!aventurine, kind of rushed and open ending - interpret it however you'd like :-) ; oneshot

tags: @azullumi (hi pookiemon who def wont read this also its 4:20 rn and I'm writing ur note before my synopsis. send help pls)

AUTHORS NOTE: someone praise me for the creative title :p and sorry that this took so long i'm currently experiencing writers block or whatever also just because this is long doesn't mean its good - don't get your hopes up too high 😭 if i said id like this, id be lying. but still that doesn't change the fact that id be crying if this flops..like all of my other recent works..

ding, ding, ding

the shrieking noise of your doorbell invades your ears, ringing continuously. it's annoying — unbearable even, and to worsen things you've been stuck in this predicament for the past 2 minutes now. 

with your head buried in between your fuzzy cushions, you try to drown out the noise thus completely ignoring the way your phone buzzes on the nightstand next to you. 

hopefully, your neighbors won't file a complaint about loud noise against you, but that's a problem for tomorrow. right now you're faced with a worse matter: making those who interrupted your sleep leave. 

do these people not know what a peaceful slumber is? (apparently not when they have the time to pay you a visit during this time.) 

almost as if your prayers were heard, the noise dies down and you sigh in relief. lazily you shift around in your bedsheets to be in a more comfortable position, nuzzling your head into the cool pillows once more.

but just when you think that the people have finally left, the agitating noise starts once again, and you have to stop yourself from letting out an irritated groan.

slowly you roll yourself out of the comfort of your bed. now sitting on the edge of your bed you’re contemplating; dwelling if you should really stand up now and open the door. 

it could be a bunch of strangers, and who knows which danger will encounter you.

you let out a defeated sigh. whatever it may be, it can't be that bad. turning sideways you try to search for your phone, and upon finding it your lips curl up into a small triumphant smile.

your fingers hover over the buttons on the side before pressing a finger onto the power button. upon seeing the bright light you blink a bunch of times, lashes pressing against each other in a repetitive motion to get used to the light first.

(2) missed calls by an unknown caller ID +xxxxxx: mx. [name] please be so kind as to open the door. thank you.  +xxxxxx: it’s urgent, please.  +xxxxxx: would you be so kind as to do us this favor, for his and our sake? 

a bunch of notifications light up on your screen but you decide to ignore them. instead, you use your phone as a flashlight to guide you through the dark of your apartment. 

who in the right mind decides to ring your doorbell at this time? and who in the right mind chooses to open the door despite the possible dangers? (you.)

despite the door serving as a separation between your apartment and the hallway, you can clearly hear two people bickering outside your apartment door.

“..ritas, hold him tighter. you're letting him fall,” the voice belongs to a woman, and she seems to be concerned about someone, that's the most you can tell.

“i am not. it's not that dark to tell that that is clearly your arm which is slipping from his body,” this time a man speaks up. his voice is hoarse and stern as he corrects the woman. 

well, this is going to be fun. you take a deep breath before opening the door, let's just hope for the best.

as you open the door, you're met with two unfamiliar faces. 

amidst the dimly lit hallway stands a woman with white hair and a red streak on her bangs. her eyes look like shards of crystals that have been puzzled together, simply magnificent. 

next to her stands a tall man, his golden eyes are hidden beneath his dark bangs which stick to his forehead, nevertheless, the warm light that radiates from the pair of honey-colored eyes shines through the depths of the night.

and squished in between them is someone else. hanging from above the ceiling there are a few lamps that adorn the hallway. the warm light that they shed lands upon the back of the person's head making their golden hair look like a shiny coin that swims amidst the ocean.

from the clothes and their silhouette, you'd figure that they're a man, however, you can't be sure due to their face being hidden.

so many questions race through your mind, who are these people? do they know what time it is? and what are they doing in front of your door? 

but the only thing you can utter at this moment is a curt and groggy: “sorry, how can i help you?”

an apologetic smile finds its way onto the woman's lips, and this time you're able to take a proper look at her. 

there are dark circles surrounding her colourful eyes and you can only wonder why she's up so late when instead she should be getting well-deserved sleep.

“apologies, how rude of us to not introduce ourselves. you can call me to- jelena. and next to me is doctor veritas ratio,” 

the man she tilts her head towards only nods in acknowledgment which you can only return. “well, it's nice to meet you, jelena and veritas. is there something you need from me?”

both names feel familiar to your ears as if you've heard them once or twice before, although you're not sure where you've heard them.

“and, that in the middle might be who?” your eyes drift over the person whose arms are draped around the backs of topaz and veritas.

“that's exactly why we're here,” hearing veritas’ voice makes you look up in surprise. “we're aventurine’s colleagues and we brought him here for you to take care of him,”

this has to be some sort of dream if not a nightmare at worst.

you're completely awake now, with furrowed eyebrows and an awkward smile on your lips you stare at the person — well aventurine as you now know, in utter disbelief. 

the only thing you're able to choke out at this very moment is a strained. “i’m sorry?” 

“you've heard me the first time, i don't like repeating myself — you're supposed to take care of that guy of a nuisance here.” veritas nudges aventurine’s shoulder to make his point clear. 

your ex and his colleagues standing in front of your door at maybe like two am in the morning had to be some sort of torture-like fever dream. 

“no, with all due respect: no.” you quickly mutter with gritted teeth before trying to slam the door shut as soon as possible. 

jelena, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be a fan of your idea and quickly puts her foot into the space between your door and the hallway as a way to stop you from closing the door.

“i..” she starts, but you notice the heavy side-eye she receives from veritas that makes it known that she's not the only one who's tired of aventurine and his shenanigans, and thus makes jelena quickly correct herself. 

“well, we know that it's unbelievable — unbelievably stupid if you might even say so, but hear us out okay?” she pleads.

she's making it hard for you to say no, so the only thing you can do is lean against your doorframe and listen to her. 

(what other choice do you even have when veritas is shooting burning stares right through you.)

jelena sighs embarrassedly. “aventurine invited us out to drink today, i’ve — no, we have found it suspicious and weird right off the bat, but he insisted and the tab was on him so it would've been rude not to go.” 

“well, our instincts were right because he kept mourning and babbling our ears off about how he'd be drinking this glass of wine with you on your guys' anniversary today instead of this bar,” jelena begins before taking a small pause as if contemplating what to tell you next.

her eyes take the shape of crescent moons and she proceeds to press her lips into a strained smile before continuing. “it was kinda endearing to watch at the beginning but over time it became unbearable,” she murmured more to herself than to you.

you can only try to imagine the scene. aventurine with red-tinted ears and a flushed face babbling about how he misses you. 

great, how dreamy.

veritas coughs to bring the attention to him, snapping you out of your thoughts “well, after that he fell flat onto the counter and we thought that he had suddenly fainted,” he adds. “until he then started whining about how he wanted to go home. so here we are.” 

now you're just confused. now, why is he here again?

“how does home refer to my place now? his place is or at least was much bigger than mine,” you scoff skeptically before realizing that that have might come over as rude. “sorry, i’m just confused and don't see any connections here. also, how'd you know where i live oh, and my number?”

jelena mutters out a small it's fine and veritas only sighs. “so you see, we tried to drive him back to his place but when we arrived he started complaining that he wants to go home — you.” 

“he started pulling out his phone and set your address on the GPS before demanding or well ordering us to drive him to your place,” he lets out an exasperated sigh upon explaining. 

“as for your number, due to his phone still being on we went through his contact list and found you right on top — saved at his emergency contact. endearing, really, ” veritas remarks sarcastically.

you're surprised — pleasantly surprised. aventurine still thinks of you? 

“correction: i was the one who drove.” jelena suddenly objected as she threw veritas a heavy side-eye.

“yes, but it's still us — we were the ones who brought him here and drove together to this place despite you being behind the wheel,  jelena,” veritas scoffs. 

“in whose car did he purge into? correct, mine. my whole car reeks of vomit now,” jelena shudders upon remembering the sight of aventurine throwing up. 

“well yes but that doesn't change the fact tha-” veritas isn't able to finish his sentence, you stop him from doing so. interrupting his complaint with one of your own.

“okay, if bickering is the only thing the both of you came here for, i don't wanna hear it. i’ll take him in, but just for tonight, is that clear?” your offer is simple. you take care of aventurine and they stop their banter so you can continue sleeping. 

it honestly benefits them more than it benefits you. 

“a nice compromise which went easier than i thought.” jelena’s face lightens up with a triumphant smile. “we'll leave him in your care then.” 

they dump aventurine onto you and he slightly topples before landing in your arms, head buried in the crook of your neck and arms tangled over your shoulders.

his warm breath fans over your neck and the close proximity makes you stiffen in place. it's not like you haven't felt this sensation before, but this time it's under different circumstances.

it's not the same as back then.

as soon as they leave aventurine in your care they bid their goodbye and leave. 

aventurine’s flushed cheeks gleam pink in the warm light, his breath tickles the exposed skin on your collarbone which almost makes you drop him.

but your arms cling onto him. grip firm and steady as you claw your hands over his clothed back, steadily holding onto him as if scared that once you lose hold of him, he'll slip out of your grasp (once more.) 

anxiety cowers at you like a child who's lost their parents and is helplessly seeking for them in a crowd of people. 

hand scarily empty as its eyes sway through the sea of people, blurred faces who will never hold one’s hand like your parents once did.

despite meeting several people who could hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings into your ear — love you; teach you what love is.

his hand is the only one you'd wrap yours around, no matter the stains and scars it leaves.

you continue to cling to him — you always did. 

well, this is certainly going to be a fun night to remember.

———————

golden rays of sunshine that beam with warmth seep through the curtains and proceed to bathe aventurine’s lying figure in the warm essence.  

the sensation tickles his skin and he lets out a muffled groan, shutting his eyes several times before eventually indulging in the morning tenderness. slowly (and after many attempts) his lilac eyes are used to the brightness. 

he’d be lying if he said that being engulfed in the luminous light wasn’t overwhelming — especially as someone who’s gotten it taken away early on and has only later been introduced to it once again. 

(although the sparkle that once resided in his eyes was long gone, there was no longer a child whose eyes once glimmered in joy upon being caressed by the sunlight.)   

being embraced by the warmth and its radiating light, he can’t help but feel like a trapped and helpless stage actor. one who despite fleeing and running away, continuously gets followed by the spotlight, thus standing in the limelight and having to perform a show for the people who are seated together in the rows below.

regardless of the people watching him, applauding for him, praising him, he feels utterly empty — empty and alone. 

although there were people to assist him on stage, co-workers around him who offered help which he reluctantly also somewhat relived accepted.

the emptiness that houses within him remains.

(perhaps he has become so accustomed to the feeling of being alone that it has been a while since he’s ever felt lonely.)

as soon as his eyes have adjusted to the brightness of his surroundings, they widen in shock. 

this surely must be a dream, right? he promised himself that he’d never return to this place despite longing to see it you again.

his eyes quickly flicker around the room in confusion. how’d he get here? this wasn’t his room or well it technically was. it’s the room he once shared with you.

it’s no wonder he’s slept this well. 

his once sleepless nights which were haunted by nightmares and resulted in hourless sessions of just staring at his ceiling, eyes trailing after the fan as it spun around in circles until the chirping of the birds outside awakened him, turned into calm nights after moving together with you.

a cloud of nostalgia fogs his mind as he recalls how you never understood why he insisted on moving into your apartment despite his being much bigger. (he supposes his place never gave him that certain sense of belonging that he sought after.)

aventurine’s eyes dart through your room to search for any changes that might have occurred.

the books you always read before going to sleep (sometimes even reading him a snippet of the part where you’re currently at) are still messily stapled on your nightstand. 

he smiles fondly before continuing his search, eyes wandering through the room and halting as he sees all the jewelry he’s bought for you, all tidily arranged on your vanity.

which contrasts with all the sticky notes that are loosely hanging off your mirror and the trinkets he's brought you from other planets that are messily splayed out on your desk.

his pink eyes pause as he catches sight of the chair next to the bed. his clothes that you “borrowed” (he always found it endearing how you walked around in his clothes as if you owned them — not like he minded) once and never gave back even after the breakup, sit neatly folded on the white chair next to your bed. 

everything is kept in place and remains the same as before: the books, the trinkets, the jewelry, and well.

his eyes drift from the chair down to his body. you changed his clothes for him.

the uneasiness that lingers in his chest slightly melts away, slowly and torturously like wax dripping off a candle.

you didn’t throw the things he gifted you away.

aventurine slips out of the covers that were once his, the sheets slightly rustle and leave behind creases as he sits at the edge of your bed. with the amount of force that aventurine uses to press his elbows against his knees it almost feels like daggers piercing into his flesh, and with his head buried between the palms of his hands, he can only laugh — a mocking grin plasters itself on aventurine’s face.

it’s ridiculous, almost pathetic the way he’s relieved. he has no right to feel so after being the one who suggested the breakup. 

he doesn’t even understand how he ended up here. jelena and veritas insisted on bringing him home, so why’s he here? everything from the former night is mushed up and blurry, he doesn’t recall the reason why he was brought here. 

neither does he understand why you offered him a place to stay, he feels like a dirty pup shamelessly returning to its owner after choosing to abandon them.

aventurine sighs before slipping into the pair of clothes that have remained untouched in the past few minutes. the shirt is a bit bigger than expected and the pants hang loosely off his hips but the scent remained the same. from the moment he let you borrow his clothes to now, the present the smell is one he’s all too acquainted with — his own. 

the only thing that he can picture at this moment is his clothes rotting in the depths of your closet, long forgotten as they get engulfed by the scent of your clothes.

his hands are hidden in the pockets of the pair of pants to conceal the way they’re trembling, fingers itching as they anxiously tap against his thigh. 

he’s nothing but a coward. 

he takes a deep breath before getting up, the goosebumps that prickle on his skin, the clenching of his teeth, and the constant urge to just storm out and leave now — they’re all suffocating him. gnawing at his skin like a rabid animal chewing the remaining flesh of a dead body.

as he enters the living room, his coat draped over the chair he’s standing in front of and you are the first things he spots. 

(as if you haven’t occupied his mind the entire time whilst being away from you — there isn’t a single day in his entire life where he doesn’t mourn after people. it’s pathetic, really, the way nostalgia torments him, but he’s a man with nothing on his hands other than the scars of the past. so what other choice does he have?)

you look up from your phone, eyes flickering around the small room before landing on the end of the dining table but aventurine’s eyes are glued to the neatly wrapped flower bouquet lying in the middle of the desk, perfectly lying there on the white table cloth.

nausea bubbles in his stomach. have you already moved on? he shouldn’t care — he’s not supposed to care, but he can’t help it. 

he exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and a wave of relief washes over him, he snaps out of his thoughts and follows your gaze, and only then does he notice the plate of assorted fruits and the bowl of steaming soup, standing on your dining table. 

as if noticing his hesitance you reluctantly speak up. “you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, i won’t force you to,” the smile you give him is somewhat strained and the way your eyes quickly fly down his body doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

his eyes widen in surprise and his immediate response to that is to quickly seat himself on the chair. “no..it’s fine,” aventurine gulps. “no need to check me out either. i’ve always liked your homecooked meals a lot, no?” he chuckles as if trying to throw a joke into the room that’ll lift the tense mood that he’s created.

(he hopes that now his body is at least somehow concealed by the table so you won’t have to stare at him any longer. he’s not worth looking at.)

“thank you for the food,” he mumbles under his breath and if you hear it you don’t acknowledge it. aventurine stares down at the food, contemplating what to do. he picks up the metal spoon lying next to it and dips it into the soup. 

breathe in, breathe out.

breathe in, breathe out.

breathe in, breathe out — you’ll be fine.

aventurine continues to stir the soup inside the bowl, sometimes lifting its contents only to let it droop down into the soup again. “so, mind telling me what happened yesterday?” 

your eyes lock from across the table and you give him a deadpan expression. “you seriously don’t remember?” the little smirk that quirks at your lips is contagious and he can’t help but smile a bit himself.

“well obviously not, when i’m asking,” he remarks back sarcastically. 

he missed bickering with you. it felt so familiar, so nostalgic — so right.

you put your phone down on the table and start explaining. “well to put it short, your colleagues, jelena and veritas if i recall correctly, brought you here because you were drunk since you kept whining about wanting to go home and well considering me as your home.”

oh.

“right and as soon as i brought you into my place you purged all over your clothes and my floor” you quickly add. “but don’t worry i washed it for you, it’s behind you.” 

“ah really? how rude of me,” he utters bashfully. “apologies then, as compensation, i’ll head home now and send some credits to your bank account although perhaps that might not be a good idea. seeing your partner’s ex (the word lies bitter on his tongue) still lurking around in their home and even sending them credits — that’d be shameless of me. apologies.”

you let out a small laugh that slightly lifts the uneasiness that has been resting on his shoulders. “aventurine, what are you even talking about?” although you seem to find fun in this, your voice is filled with confusion.

the metal spoon he has been firmly gripping for the past few minutes sags against the bowl as aventurine points at the flower bouquet sitting on the neat tablecloth. “the flowers,” he murmurs to himself more than to you.

“oh,” you laugh. “i bought them for myself,” you admit sheepishly before getting up to unwrap the bouquet, revealing a beautiful arrangement of colorful flowers.

you quickly scurry into the kitchen to fill up a vase with water before gracefully setting the flowers down into the now with water-filled vase. “they’re pretty, aren’t they?” you admire the flowers with a smile on your face. “very pretty indeed.” aventurine smiles as his gaze is focused on you.

only then as you rearrange the flowers, making sure that they won’t sag over the rim of the vase, he notices the ring you’re wearing. a promise ring.

aventurine blinks a few times to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming, but he’d recognize this ring everywhere. how could he not when it’s the same ring that adorns his ring finger? 

“is there any particular reason you kept the jewelry i gifted you?” his gaze drifts to the ring that is in full display and which is glowing under your living room light. 

your eyes that were focusing on the flowers just now, suddenly look down to peek at the ring. “well, it’d be a shame to throw it away. it was expensive after all,” you express truthfully.

“but you also kept the sticky notes i wrote for you every morning in your room — you kept everything i gifted you. the pressed flower bookmarks, the shitty handmade bracelet, my clothes — everything,” he notes.

your response is nothing but short. “oh, uh yeah.”

why? he wants to ask but he knows that trying to force an answer out of you is no good, if you don’t want to respond you needn’t.

“i guess i missed having you around. the things you got me served me as a reminder that you're somehow still with me,” despite your admission being no louder than a whisper it clearly reaches aventurine’s ears.

but he’s in no position to tease you — he’s way too stunned for that, as if not being able to believe your words.

he feels like a small child who discovers that the fables and tales adults tell aren’t real, that those were made-up stories with made-up people which he so desperately tries to deny.

“i see,” he mumbles. “yeah,” you nod your head and look away. 

the awkward silence that follows is unbearable — it’s killing him. 

to know that you still think about him, he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least the tiniest bit happy but he also knows that it’s ironic and that he shouldn’t feel like this.

as if you’re able to read his mind you snap him out of his thoughts with a mere question. “aventurine, what’s on your mind?”

“you always knew me too well for my own liking,” he chuckles in defeat, and in return, you can only smile.

“but, i suppose, i’m just..relieved?” he admits while staring down at the untouched soup that reflects his pleased expression.

“relieved about what exactly?” you ask curiously, head tilted to the side as you await his response. “relieved that i’m not the only one who thinks of the other,” he smiles, letting out a small sigh when doing so.

“so you were jealous or what?” you jokingly scoff. the smirk on your lips is mischievous, but your eyes deceive you. they’re soft as they stare down at him.

“don’t ask questions to which you already know the answers to.”

END NOTE: as yall can tell i seem to enjoy writing aventurine and alcohol together (ref. wyws & ttol) does the "a" in aventurine atp stand for angst or alcohol...(both) /lh

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ QUEEN OF HEARTS

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, public sex, sub!virgin!spencer, cumming in pants, thigh riding(ish), fingering, praise, a little exhibitionism, getting caught(kinda).

꩜ PROMPT: sneaky fooling around with sub spence on the job

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

A/N: i have mixed feelings about this but i'm posting it anyway bcs i feel like it. also this is proofread but i'm a moron and blind so don't get your hopes up:3

Spencer was, gently put, dumb. Now, obviously, he was intelligent, very, very intelligent, but you can be both in rare instances, and Spencer was a rare instance.

He was completely unaware and blind to his looks, which was obviously due to his childhood of being relentlessly bullied and tormented, causing him to overlook his appearance and how truly attractive he was, no matter how many people told him, flirted with him, or hit on him. I mean his nickname was literally "pretty boy" for a reason, but he just thought it was a sarcastic joke.

"All alone, handsome?" You smiled, noticing Spencer tucked away in a conference room all on his own, surrounded by files, your voice making him look up from the one he was reading.

"Oh uhm, yeah, it just got a little loud out there; I work better in a quiet place," he explained, a tight-lipped smile on his face before he looked back down at the file, furrowing his brows as he scanned it.

"Everything okay?" You asked at his expression, worried that he was struggling and needed a break, which he was terrible at, always overworking himself for the sake of the case, even though he could barely think straight after working himself to the bone for days.

"Yeah, I just- I can't find any connection." He sighed, dropping the file on the table before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Need some fresh eyes?" you offered, closing the door behind you to help drown out the loud chattering in the police station you were working in, slowly making your way over to him and hoisting yourself onto the desk beside him, not missing the way he swallowed, his eyes flicking down to your thighs before looking away again.

"Y-Yeah, sure," he murmured, sliding the file over to you before dropping his hands to his lap to fidget with his fingers, picking at the sides of his nails nervously.

"Spence, stop," you warned, looking at him with knowing eyes. It was a bad habit you'd noticed he had, sometimes picking his skin so much that it was red and raw and sometimes bleeding. You'd told him many times to stop before he hurt himself, but it never really worked.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, flattening his hands on his thighs before looking away from you again, scanning the room to distract himself. Your eyes landed on his hands, noticing a familiar red substance at the side of his nail, making you let out a sigh.

"Spencer, you're bleeding; gimme your hand," you sighed, placing the file down beside you and holding your hand out to him, watching his eyes flick between your face and your hand a few times.

"The amount of pathogens passed through holding hands is staggering; it's actually safer to kiss." He stated, it was completely innocent, but the way your stomach churned wasn't. You'd had a thing for Spencer for a long time, but he was just so naive that he couldn't see it; today he'd see it.

"Is that an offer?" You teased, quirking your brow at him as his eyes widened, realising what he had said and who he said it to—a very attractive woman who was sitting right in front of him in a small, hidden room with the door closed and the blinds drawn, his cheeks flushing at the implication.

"N-No, I was just- I- " He stuttered, averting your gaze and swallowing thickly as you smiled at his flustered state, watching as he lifted his hand, placing it in yours in an attempt to make the whole conversation stop.

"Oh Spencer, does that not hurt?" You tutted, furrowing your brows at him at the raw, bleeding skin on his finger, your thumb stroking the back of his hand, absentmindedly.

"A little..." he spoke softly, lowering his head slightly as you sighed.

"Hold on, just a second," you said as you got up from the table, making your way to the door where you'd left your bag, unzipping it and digging through it for a moment, perhaps bending over to show a little bit of your butt from under your skirt on purpose before you finally pulled a bandaid from one of the pockets and made your way back to him.

"Good thing I'm prepared, huh?" You smiled, sitting back on the desk, but closer this time, with Spencer immediately holding his hand out to you for you to take gently, opening the bandaid and carefully wrapping it around his finger, forcing yourself to hold back a smile as you raised his hand to your face, placing a gentle kiss on top of the bandaid, leaving a faint lipstick stain on the tan material.

"Better?" you asked sweetly, holding back a smirk at his pink cheeks, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears, and you just couldn't help yourself. "Oh Spencer, are you feeling okay? Your cheeks are really red," you feigned concern as you reached out to press the back of your hand to his cheek, feeling the heat radiating from his face.

"Y-Yeah, fine," he said, his voice cracking as he tried to sound sure of himself and failing as his cheeks became redder at your touch.

"Are you sure, honey?" You asked sweetly, slipping in the petname just to see him gulp and avoid your eyes, wetting his lips nervously as he shifted in his seat.

Spencer couldn't even answer you, completely avoiding looking even close to you as you shifted closer to him, your eyes boring into him as you saw a very faint sheen of sweat lining his temple.

"Am I making you nervous?" You asked in a low tone, quirking your brow at him as you saw his eyes widen a little at your question, his lips parting as he let out a shaky breath, gulping down his nerves as he looked up at you shyly.

"M-Maybe a little," he admitted bashfully, looking away from you again, staring down at his shoes as you felt lust stirring in your stomach at the sight of him so nervous, admitting that you had an effect on him.

"Y'know, when I tell you that you're pretty, I mean it, don't you?" You asked him, looking at him with doe eyes as he looked back at you with a similar expression.

"Y-You do?" He sounded genuinely surprised, as if he didn't believe you.

"Of course I do. I mean not to sound like I'm in love with you or anything, but you're beautiful, Spencer, and I mean that." You spoke softly, standing up to shift closer to him, standing between his legs and leaning on the desk in front of him, forcing him to look up at you as you towered over him.

"T-Thank you," he breathed shyly, moving his hands to rest between his thighs and covering his crotch with his forearms as he looked anywhere but your face.

"Move your hands," you ordered suddenly, Spencer finally looking at you, brows pulled together slightly at your sudden change in behaviour.

"W-What?" He stuttered, gulping as he shifted in his seat, his hands still planted between his parted thighs, licking his lips as you heard the faint sound of his breathing picking up.

"I said, move your hands," you repeated, this time more sternly, pulling your lip between your teeth as you watched his hands twitch, taking a shaky breath before he hesitantly moved his hands to rest on his thighs, dropping his head in slight humiliation that he'd been caught.

"Oh my, I make you more than nervous," you stated in a sultry tone, Spencer letting out a breathy whine just loud enough for you to hear. The sound was all you needed to have you standing up abruptly, moving to place your knee between his thighs, your hands lifting to rest on either side of his neck.

"Can I kiss you, pretty boy?" You asked breathily, your thumb stroking over his pulse, feeling his breath hitch in his throat at your question before he gulped, nodding quickly.

"Use your words," you teased, watching as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, visibly nervous under your gaze.

"P-Please," he spoke under his breath, looking up at you with wide doe eyes as you smiled down at him, wordlessly leaning towards him, stopping just shy of his lips for a moment just to feel him lean towards you slightly to chase your lips before you finally closed the gap, feeling a whine vibrate against your lips.

Spencer's kissing was slightly clumsy and clearly inexperienced, desperately trying to keep up with you as you kissed him with fervour, letting your teeth graze his bottom lip, your hands trailing up from his neck into his hair at the nape of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp as he keened into you, his hips rolling upward, the motion piquing your curiosity, shifting your knee forward to press to his crotch, a moan slipping into your mouth as he bucked his hips again.

"That feel good, handsome?" You pulled away just enough to ask him, your lips brushing his and his hot breath fanning your lips as he panted, his eyes still closed.

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, making you smirk as you pressed your knee harder into his clothed cock, a whimper falling from his swollen lips as he rutted his cock into you, moving his hands to hold your thigh, squeezing your flesh in an attempt to compose himself, pushing himself down to the chair to still his movements.

"Keep going," you husked as you moved to press your lips to his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his pulse, the feeling making him moan as he couldn't help but rut against you, his cheeks flushed at what he was doing.

"W-what if someone-" he stuttered, cutting himself off with a whine as you grazed your teeth on his skin, licking over smooth skin.

"What if?" you said teasingly, your voice low and sultry as you lowered one hand to hold his that was still on your thigh, slowly moving it up and under your skirt. "Touch me," you breathed into his ear, a moan falling from his lips before he gulped, inching his hand higher and higher until he could cup your clothed core, gasping at the heat that radiated from you.

"W-What do I do?" He asked meekly, embarrassed that he didn't know how to touch you properly and that his inexperience only made you want him more.

"Well, first, my underwear need to be out of the picture." You laughed breathily, Spencer blushing and letting out a shaky breath as he used his fingers to move your damp underwear to the side, the fact that he didn't even remove them making you clench around nothing.

"Now touch me." You breathed, biting down on your bottom lip, watching as he gulped before ever so gently pressing his fingertips to your cunt, his middle finger slipping between your folds, resting at your slick entrance, his eyes widening at the feeling, his mouth dropping open slightly.

"Y-You're so...wet," he practically whimpered, not even realising how attractive what he said was, his words making you moan quietly, "inside baby," you breathed, taking his wrist into your hand to guide him, holding his hand where he needed to be before he slowly pushed his middle finger upward, his fingertip slipping into you and making his jaw fall slack as your walls surround his finger.

"God, you've got the perfect fingers for this, baby," you practically moaned, letting your head tip back as you still held his wrist.

"I do?" he asked, his voice slightly whiny as he gazed up at you.

"Mhm, fit so nicely inside me," you murmured absentmindedly, completely forgetting that this wasn't some raunchy dream you were having, your words making him moan low in his throat.

"Curl your finger towards you for me, love," you instructed softly. Spencer immediately followed your exact instructions, curling his middle finger gradually until you let out a quiet gasp, stopping his movements completely.

"D-Did I hurt you?" He asked worriedly, his behaviour and concern making your heart swell.

"N-No baby, no, felt good, k-keep going," you breathed, stroking your thumb over his wrist as you moved the other to rest on his shoulder, balancing yourself so you could move your leg to the outer side of his thigh, spreading your legs for him so he had more access.

"You can add another, baby," you encouraged softly, knowing that he wouldn't do it on his own out of fear of hurting you in any way.

"O-Okay," he breathed, swallowing nervously as he pulled his finger out almost fully, leaving just his fingertip in before he pressed his index finger in beside it, slowly pushing them both in at once, watching your face intently as your jaw fell slack, eyes closed as a breathy moan slipped past your parted lips.

"F-fuck, baby," you mewled as Spencer curled his slender fingers into you on his own accord, his hips rolling into your thigh at the sound of your voice and the feeling of you clenching around his fingers.

"G-Gimme your hand," you asked, holding yours out to him as he placed his free hand in yours with a slightly confused expression that quickly became a completely infatuated, lust-filled expression as you let go of his wrist to hike your skirt up around your waist, exposing the sight of his fingers buried in your cunt.

"O-oh my-" Spencer tried to speak, his words turning into a whimper as you bucked your hips slightly, his fingers pushing in deeper, the sight of them disappearing into you making his cock throb against your leg, hips stuttering against his will.

"J-Just stay right there and make this motion," you explained breathlessly, placing Spencer's thumb on your neglected clit and motioning circles with yours to show him what to do, watching him nod shakily before he made one tentative circle, watching how you reacted, the gasp you let out showing him that it was good, so he repeated the motion again and again until he had a pace going.

"Oh, Spence, g-good baby, so good, c-curl your fingers at the same time for me," you breathed, Spencer immediately doing as you asked, curling both his fingers into you until they were pressed to that soft spot inside you. The way you moaned when he reached it made him realise that spot was what made you react, so he experimented a little, uncurling his fingers before repeating the motion, a louder but still hushed sound falling from your lips as he did.

"Such a quick learner," you mewled as he continued his steady motions, his thumb circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your praise made him blush and rut into your thigh harder than he had before, and your curiosity piqued.

"You like when I praise you? tell you how good you are?" you asked, the way Spencer whimpered and fucked into your thigh again giving you your answer, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"Be a good boy and go faster for me," you instructed, your words of praise making him completely pliant, instantly picking up his pace and making you almost double over as the pleasure shot through you, the motion making your leg slot right between his thighs, leaving no distance between your thigh as his painfully hard length straining against his pants, a pathetic whimper ripped from his throat as his hips bucked desperately into you, this time at a constant pace, Spencer unable to hold back from chasing any kind of friction.

"So pretty fucking my thigh, baby, you like humping my leg like a good boy?" You cooed, bringing your hand to his jaw and letting your thumb stroke over his plush bottom lip, watching as he let his mouth open, as if inviting you in, and you just couldn't deny, letting your thumb slip past his lips and into his warm mouth, clenching around his fingers as he wrapped his beautiful lips around it.

"Oh my, such a good boy," you praised, your voice breathy and low as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you, the way Spencer's fingers consistently curled into you, his thumb never faltering on your clitoral area, his pace matching that of his hips constantly fucking your thigh, his brain going into autopilot as he sucked on your thumb.

"I-I feel- weird," Spencer whimpered around your thumb, just barely audible, but you heard him, his words making you want to coo at him, knowing exactly what the feeling was.

"You're gonna cum, baby boy; it's okay; gonna feel good; just let it happen." You spoke soothingly, pulling your thumb from his mouth and watching as he opened his eyes to look up at you with a doe-like expression, his lips parted and wet as he let out a constant stream of whimpers and moans, his hips stuttering as he desperately fucked your thigh, chasing his orgasm as he brought you to yours.

"F-fuck baby, you're gonna make me cum; keep going; just a little more for mommy." The word slipped out without a thought. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even think about it until Spencer let out a choked moan, delivering a particularly hard thrust onto your thigh, your jaw falling slack at what slipped past his lips.

"M-mommy, 'm gonna c-cum," he choked out, letting out little gasps and whimpers as tears spilled from his eyes. He looked utterly gorgeous, completely fucked out, and cumdrunk, so much so that he was calling you mommy and humping your thigh, the whole thing pushing you so close to the edge.

"Oh, baby, so fucking pretty. Gonna cum, you want that? You want mommy to cum on your pretty fingers?" You husked, watching as Spencer nodded mindlessly, clearly not even knowing what he was agreeing to.

"Oh, o-oh, m-mommy! mommy, I can't, I'm-" Spencer stammered, cutting himself off with a choked sob as his hips stilled, cum spurting into his underwear as his whole body tensed, including his hands, his fingers curling into you as far as they'd go, harshly pressing to your sweet spot as his thumb pressed into your clit, the sudden pressure sending you over the edge with a muffled moan, gushing around his fingers as your walls spasmed and thighs trembled.

Spencer continued to shallowly fuck your thigh through his orgasm, little whimpers and whines falling from his lips as he completely soiled his pants, cum seeping through to your thigh and the warm, sticky liquid smearing on your skin.

"Oh, baby, you made such a mess of yourself," you cooed, pouting down at him as you cupped his cheeks, his eyes looking up at you completely dazed as he whimpered.

"You did so well for mommy," you said softly, stroking his soft skin with your thumbs as he pouted, completely fucked out and submissive.

"Okay, baby, slow for me; you can take your fingers out now and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?" You encouraged him sweetly, Spencer nodding as he slowly, like you'd instructed, pulled his fingers out of you, the feeling of his skin dragging against your sensitive walls making you wince slightly.

Once Spencer slipped his fingers fully out of you, he couldn't help but fixate on the slick, shiny liquid that coated them, watching as it created strings between them when he spread them apart, and he just couldn't resist. Your jaw dropped as you watched him bring his soaked fingers to his lips, burying them in his mouth and moaning around them as he tasted you.

"You like how mommy tastes, baby?" You asked, smiling to yourself as you watched him clean every last drop, nodding with his fingers still in his mouth.

"Sticky," he whined once he pulled his fingers from his mouth, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "...and cold," he whined harder, looking up at you with big eyes as if begging you to do something.

"Okay, baby, let's clean you up," you smiled, fixing your soiled underwear and shimmying your skirt back down before planting your foot back on the ground and scanning the room.

"There's no tissues in here," you sighed, furrowing your brows as Spencer whined harder, pressing his thighs together desperately.

"D-Don't like it, mommy," he sniffled, making you turn quickly to see him with teary eyes and pouty lips. He was completely submissive, which was a problem you'd deal with later; right now he needed you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay; don't cry," you soothed as you cupped his cheeks, watching as his bottom lip quivered slightly. "Mommy's going to think of something," you reassured him, taking another look around the room. An idea springs to mind, and he's not going to like it.

"Okay, you're not going to like it, but it's the only way, okay?" You told him, making sure to talk softly to him so as not to make him think you were being mean. Spencer was sensitive as is, but in this state? He needed the most care.

"O-Okay," he replied hesitantly, curious about what he wouldn't like but also slightly worried.

You let go of his face to turn around and reach over the desk, picking up Spencer's, now stone cold, coffee cup and turning back to him, seeing the dots connect in his mind at what you were planning, the whole idea making him whine but nodding nonetheless, knowing it was the only cover-up that wasn't going to be too suspicious.

"I'm going to spill this on you, and then we're going to go out there; I'll tell them I knocked it over and I feel terrible, and then we're going to go back to the hotel and get you changed, okay?" You explained your plan fully, making sure he was comfortable with the whole thing.

"Okay…" he mumbled, knowing that this was about to be unpleasant and impossibly stickier, but on the upside, the hotel wasn't far, and he got to spend some time alone with you away from work, so it was worth it in the end.

"Sorry, sweetie," you winced as you poured the liquid over his lap, watching as he jumped at the cold feeling seeping into his clothes, feeling terrible about making him uncomfortable.

"Alright, let's go. I don't want you sitting in wet clothes for too long," you said as you quickly placed the cup back on the desk, taking a Spencer hand in yours to help him to his feet and leading him to the door where your bag was, hoisting it onto your shoulder and swinging the door open. Your eyes immediately meeting hotch looking at you from a desk not far from you.

"I spilled Spencer's coffee on him; thank God it was cold, but I feel terrible. I'm gonna give him a ride to the hotel to change; we won't be long," you explained quickly, all but dragging Spencer through the station to the exit, not giving the team time to tease or make jokes.

"How dumb do they think we are?" Derek snorted to the team once you were out of earshot, the others shaking their head and agreeing with him as they continued their work.

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @reidsdaisies @iluvreid @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @unimportantweirdo @criminalmindswife @deluluforu @busybeingstrange

(if you wanna be tagged when i post fics just lmk!)

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ death note reaction - little things they do for you

includes: established relationship, ooc light idc that he isn't romantic i love him :((

a/n: i've been rewatching death note so i'm thinking of taking reqs for l, light, and near. feel free to send any ideas !! (preferably light x male reader)

gn reader (no pronouns used)

⋆｡°✩ l - sharing his sweets

(word count 224)

you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes as you stumble out of your hotel bedroom and into the main room. l sits in his usual position on one of the chairs; absentmindedly pulling his bottom lip between his fingers. he pauses slightly when he hears you approach as he continues looking through the various files sprawled across the desk.

“anything new?” you murmur, setting a small, strawberry pastry down beside him.

“nothing yet.” l replies. 

he reaches over to hold the plate up to his lips. he breaks off a small piece before handing it over to you. “thank you,” you softly smile at him. the treat tastes sweet in your mouth. you pick a piece of fresh strawberry from the top as you watch l continue to work. “it’s getting late.”

“i’ll come to bed soon. you don’t have to wait up for me.”

you shake your head. “i’ll stay.”

l startles slightly when your head falls against his shoulder. he stares at you with wide eyes as your eyes flutter closed; your body relaxed against his side. he stiffens beneath your touch as he contemplates what to do.

finally, he reaches over to gently shake you awake. “y/n,” he whispers. you blink up at him through tired eyes as he softly smiles at you. “we can go to bed now.”

⋆｡°✩ light - confiding in you

(word count 227)

a soft sigh leaves your lips as you let yourself collapse onto light’s perfectly-made bed. he watches you from the corner of his eye with a soft smile as he pulls his chair back to sit down at his desk. “tired?” he asks.

“it was a long day,” you hum. 

light walks over to sit beside you on his bed as a comfortable silence falls over the room as you move to sit beside him before light speaks again. 

“somebody approached me today. he claimed that he was l.” you remain silent as his hands ball into fists; his eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “he’s screwed me. if he really is l, i can’t risk writing his name down. but if he isn’t, why would they still be investigating me?”

“light,” you whisper. you reach out to grab his hand, taking it into your own. he remains silent as you intertwine your fingers together in an attempt to soothe him. “think about it. they’re getting more desperate. why would l risk revealing himself to you if they have any reason to suspect you?”

you gently rub your thumb against light’s skin in an attempt to calm him. you watch as his shoulders slowly begin to relax before he nods. “you’re right,” he smiles. he leans in to pull you into a quick peck. “i’m glad i have you.”

⋆｡°✩ near - playing with his hair

(word count 239)

“near?” you whisper as you cautiously approach the boy. he barely reacts as you walk over to sit on the ground beside him; his hand continues absentmindedly stacking and restacking blocks. he twists a stray strand of hair between his fingers. 

“it’s late.” you say. your voice cuts through the previous silence. despite his seeming apathy, you can tell he’s listening by the way his hands momentarily pause their building. “will you come to bed with me?”

near remains silent for a few minutes in response. you carefully reach over to rest a gentle hand against his back before you slowly begin to rub small circles against his skin. 

his deliberation comes to an end when he restacks the blocks. “okay.” you smile softly as he intertwines your fingers together, following after you as you stand up and lead him to a small, designated bedroom. 

near slips underneath the covers first before you join him. he curls his body up beside you, leaning his head against your chest. the soft locks of his hair tickle against your bare skin as he comfortably nuzzles himself into your warmth. 

you bring a hand up to carefully begin to card your fingers through near’s hair; twisting the strands between your fingers much like he does. “i like it when you do that,” he whispers into the darkness. 

you smile, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. “get some rest, near.”

[plush-rabbit]

Coffee and Fated Tragedies

Something cute about The Spot or something, but like before he became The Spot. Maybe I'll do something about him and his holes later

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I need him, like carnally. There’s like nothing about him and I need to get this off my chest before I like combust so¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-

You stand near a water cooler, watching the bubbles float to the top. Your cup has been empty for the past minute, and you consider taking the rest of your break outside. The fluorescent lights are making it difficult to stay awake, and the sterile air at Alchemax is burning your eyes. 

With a sigh, you reason to yourself that the short trip to the parking lot would waste the remainder of your break, and you’d have to walk back to your desk by the time you even stepped near the doors. You turn your head, and watch as a scientist turns the corner, taking slow and careful steps to make sure the obnoxious amount of files that he’s holding doesn’t tip over.

He slows down enough, taking a pause next to the water cooler, and with a peek around the files he spots you looking at the files with wide eyes. There’s a certain look in his eyes that has your neck burning.

“Um-” you clear your throat, placing the empty cup of water in the trash- “do you need any help?” 

His eyes scan you, giving you a quick run down, suspicion twisted into his features. “It’s fine- I'm fine,” he snaps, holding the file just a bit tighter, almost defensively. And as if the world were against him, the top half of the stack nearly spills over, before you hold onto it, steadying the stack once more. The tips of his ears flush into a deep hue of red, and you smile at him nervously. 

“I’m on my break,” you tell him. “It wouldn’t be a bother. Plus, I’m sure you would much prefer for the files to be in order rather than all er- out of order,” you reason. 

His eyes dart around the room, before finally letting out a sigh. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. I’d appreciate the help,” he says slowly, as if still can’t believe that he’s allowing someone else to hold such important paperwork. “Please and thank you,” he mumbles.

You smile, nodding your head, quickly grabbing halfway through the stack and holding it firmly in your hands. Having the files fall after offering assistance is the last thing that you need- especially after the scientist had such a tone in his voice.

Words stay stuck in your throat as you follow behind him without a sound. You’re sure you should be talking to him, but he isn't making conversation either. Plus, you aren’t entirely sure what you would talk to him about. The weather? You only felt it when you clocked in in the morning. Lunch? No, you’ve heard around that most scientists don’t even take their lunch these days- too busy with whatever has been going on these days. Your mouth pulls into a thin line. Truth be told, you want to ask about the files- you’re positive that it has something to do with whatever has ad the building in such a buzz. But you doubt he’d even tell you. 

“I apologize for making you waste your break on this,” he mumbles, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder. He makes eye contact with you briefly before he looks forward once again.

“Huh? Oh! That’s fine. It’s no worries, really. I was the one who offered after all,” you say hurriedly. He huffs and silence befalls the both of you once more, but you’re much too eager now after his words. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where are we delivering them to?”

“Dr. Octavius’s office. She said that she needs to review the recent ana-” he stops short and he straightens his back, clearing his throat- “experiment.”

“Oh,” you say. You don’t have the luxury of knowing the inner workings, and a part of you wishes that you did. You always were a bit of the nosey type. “Are you part of those experiments as well, um- I’m sorry I don’t believe that I asked for your name.”

“Johnathan. Ohnn. Dr. Ohnn,” he says, stumbling over his words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Ohnn,” you say with a smile, stopping just behind him when he turns his head. 

“And you are?” There’s a tense layer laced into his words, but when you answer, he smiles slowly and nods to himself. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he mumbles. 

-

It's only been a few days since your encounter with the scientist and maybe it's because you've finally noticed him, that you notice him more and more. 

You see him in the cafeteria, surrounded by other scientists.

In the hallway, carrying a much more manageable stack of files that asking if he needs assistance would probably be offensive.

You see him peering into the different break rooms located on each floor, locking eyes with you for a moment, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He lingers in doorways, looking around and lifting his chin to peer over the crowd, trying to find someone. Sometimes, you’ll catch his eye and when you do, he looks away quickly and walks away.

A part of you thinks that maybe he’s waiting for you to approach him, but you can’t be too sure on that assumption. It is a nice thought to have though. 

It isn’t until your coworkers grab your bicep and whisper in your ear at how convenient it is that Dr. Ohnn appears where you are. There’s a smile that stretches across their face, and for a moment, you play along that the doctor might be interested in you. 

“Oh yeah, the cute and stalkerish scientist,” you say with a smile, placing a hand over your chest. “What a catch,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the fits of giggles. 

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind having said cute and stalkerish scientist be fond of you, but it probably isn’t that. It’s a nice thought to have, but you don’t fester on it for too long. He’s a scientist- one of the important ones around here, and you’re simply here for your paycheck and the benefits. 

-

You sit at your desk, typing and retyping emails, answering calls, and sneakily going on your phone when you can. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe you should quit- live in the middle of nowhere, tough it out, but then your coworker drops off a pastry at the edge of your desk with a hasty “you’re welcome” and when taking a bite, the idea of living without the sweet baked good. 

A shadow crosses over your desk, and there’s a soft ‘click’ sound and you look up to see a cup of coffee placed on your desk, and over it stands the scientist who’s been not-so-secretly searching for you.

“Hello,” he greets you, his tongue tripping over your name. “I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee.” There’s a fiddly tone laced into his words, and it makes you smile.

He certainly is cute. 

“Hello Dr. Ohnn,” you greet. “Thanks for the coffee.” You grab the cup, and peer inside the cup. It’s half full. You glance up at him. “I don’t suppose you brought creamer or anything like that with you?” 

You see the apple in his throat bob as he gulps. “No,” he says, almost ashamed. “I uh- I didn’t know how you liked it and thought to play it safe with black. I apologize.”

“Would you like to walk with me to the breakroom?” You offer, standing up and grabbing at the cup. You grab at a napkin and cover the pastry, before taking a step away from your desk.

Instantaneously, he perks up. He smiles at you, taking a step back to allow you to walk with him. His forefinger and thumb pinch at the leg of his glasses, adjusting them so they sit properly on his face.

The walk is short, only light conversation about the weather and how the day has been going so far fills the air.

Thankfully, the break room is empty. You don’t think that Dr. Ohnn would like an audience when he’s with you.

You walk to the counter, and grab a pack of creamer and sugar. The dark coffee turns to a lighter version of itself. 

“So-” Dr. Ohnn rushes to your side when you start to speak- “what made you bring me a cup of coffee?” You stir in the contents and bring the rim of the cup to your lips, giving him the chance to speak.

“I wanted-” he trails off, and turns his head- “I just thought it would be nice to repay you. After you helped me with the files the other day.”

A smile graces your lips and he returns it, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Well thank you for the coffee, Dr. Ohnn. It was much appreciated.” 

“Johnathan,” he corrects. You tilt your head, confusion scrunching your brows. “You can call me Johnathan.”

“Oh,” you chirp. And realization dawns on you, as you smile. “Okay then. Thank you for the coffee, Johnathan.”

He nods curtly. “I just apologize that it wasn’t anything better than the break room coffee. I made sure to brew a fresh batch.” He shifts his weight nervously on each foot. “I’d have brought you some fancy coffee, or taken you somewhere but-” his face turns into a deep hue, and he pulls along the collar of his shirt. “I uh-  didn’t know your schedule or if you’d even want to go.” He lets the end of the sentence trail off into a rushed slur of words.

You dig your nails into the cup as the realization of what he wanted to do dawns on you.

The cup is placed down, and suddenly the room feels hot. “Oh! Really?” You unconsciously lean towards him, and he nods, looking away from you. "I’m flattered.” You can feel the tips of your ears burn. “I mean, if you’re not too busy after the end of the day, I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.” You bite the inside of your cheeks before taking a risk. “Or we can get a bite to eat? Whatever you prefer of course.”

“Really?” He asks, a smile stretching across his face. “I’d love to do that. Either. We can definitely get something to eat.” 

“That’s great!” You exclaim, clapping your hands together. But you immediately retract. “Ah. I usually take the train to work, so if we can get something maybe close by? Like walking distance or-”

“I have a car,” he rushes. Your eyes widen and he straightens himself. “I can take us wherever you want to go. I don’t mind. I can drop you off at the station or at your home. Wherever you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask, nerves making your stomach twist and turn.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind. Honest.”

Nodding your head, you smile. “Okay,” you tell him. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, then we can go to whatever restaurant- so long as you pick it.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling widely at you. “I’ll meet you at your desk, after I clock out,” he says confidently, before smiling a bit more softly. “Is that alright with you?”

“It’s alright with me,” you confirm.

“Great. It’s a date.” There’s worry laced into his words at his sentence, and you can't help the grin that grows.

“It’s a date.” He smiles when you agree with him. You reach your hand over, pausing and about to retract. With his eyes on you, you decide to commit. You reach over and grab his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Johnathan.” You give him another smile, before you wave goodbye, walking back to your desk with the coffee in your hand.

-

He sits down in front of you. After the rush of Spider-man- Spider-men, he reminds you- the building is in a panicked state. You’ve found some place to rest where the alarmed employees won’t peek through.

Your thumb ghosts over the red spot where the bagel had hit Johnthan. You click your tongue, frowning, and run your hand through his hair.

“Sorry about messing up your hair,” you mumble, running your fingers through the strands.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He looks up, and your hands follow, curving down from the top of his head, down to cup his face. “Bagel had already messed it up.” He looks away from you, face growing warm under your palms.

“You took a hard hit.” He looks back down and you return to the top of his head, pinching away at any crumbs. “I forgot how strong Spider-man is.”

“Was,” he corrects.

You frown. “Is he not Spider-man?”

He murmurs something under his breath that you are unable to hear. “Not ours. It’s what I’m so busy with.” You choose not to respond, and he takes it as an invitation to continue further. “You saw me get hit with a bagel,” he groans. You smile softly even if he can’t see it.

You want to press further about whatever it is that he’s working on and why there are two Spider-men, but you know that it isn’t the time for that. You gulp and try to fix his hair, the once red spot, growing faint. Your mouth pulls into a thin line, and you take in a breath. 

With his head still down, you return to cup his face, lifting him up slightly. He turns his head, his nose and mouth pressing against your palm. You smile at him, and lower yourself, pressing a chaste kiss against the spot. His face flames up once more.

“I’m just happy it was a bagel and not an apple,” you tell him. “Come on,” you tell him, reaching down to grab at his hand, “I’m sure one of us is being looked for.” He squeezes your hand, and follows you quietly.

-

You sit beside him, the car playing a song from your playlist, and the air conditioner blowing a nice cool breeze to combat the warm air that is outside. Your legs are tucked underneath you, the drinks dotted in condensation as the two of you eat inside the car. 

Rain starts to pitter patter against the windshield and you turn your head to watch the drops collect. 

You turn back to Johnathan, watching as he eats his fries. He raises his brows at you. “Sorry to make you waste your gas,” you say, feeling just a bit bad about it, but not enough to lose your appetite. 

He shakes his head, quickly grabbing at your drink and taking a sip. You smile when he realizes that he grabbed the wrong drink. “No, no,” he comforts. “I like being with you. This is fine. Plus as a scientist, the pay is fine. As long as I have access to my bank account, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about that type of stuff.” He reaches for your drink again, stopping short and sending you an apologetic smile, before grabbing at his own. He bites the tip of his straw, and takes a small sip before letting go. “If anything, I’m sorry that I took a drink from your soda.”

The rain collects, a storm furthering on, and you think you hear thunder somewhere. You two have flirted enough, been on enough dates to classify yourselves as “seeing each other” - whatever that means- when people ask, that it seems fine to take drinks from each other's straws. You know that what he did is an indirect kiss and you wonder if he knows that. 

You reach over, cupping your hands over his and tilting the drink towards you. You look at him, before returning your gaze to the drink and place your lips over the straw, taking a small sip. The taste of his drink rests heavy on your tongue, and you want more of it. 

“Now we’re even,” you say softly, letting go of his drink and returning to your side of the car.

His face flushes into a dark color, and his lips are parted open.

There’s a realization far off into your mind that he did realize what just transpired between the two of you and a soda.

Johnathan sets the drink down and adjusts his glasses, peering out the windshield where the rain washes down in waves. He turns back to you and reaches past the boundary that are the cupholders. His hands are warm as they cup your face, one reaches around, fingers curved over the back of your head, and the other holds you gently, letting you pull away if you were unsure about this, but you lean towards him.

Your heart beats against your chest, and you think that it’s going to bruise you, leave you battered and spill out, a bloody mess over his car. 

You’d really have to apologize then. 

The beating doesn’t stop- not when he’s pressing closer to you. It goes on, drumming inside of you, erratic and following the heaviness of the raindrops. It goes on as he kisses you, hands fumbling to keep the drinks steady when he pushes himself too close to you. He kisses fiercely, and desperately. His glasses press against your face, and you grab onto his shirt, twisting the fabric

The kiss deepens, and he pulls away for a breath of air, gasping for it as he presses pecks against the corner of your mouth. The cups be damned. You press yourself against him, your hands flat against his chest as you push him back, clambering across to sit on his lap.

His hands find themselves at your hips, and yours rest over his neck. He leans into your touch, and there’s a loud honk. You both startle, but he keeps kissing you, a hand leaving you to fumble with the seat. 

Thunder booms in the sky, and he bunches your shirt in his hand. 

The seat shoves back with full force, and you break away. You stare at each other with wide eyes, and you’re the first one laughing, wrapping your arms around him and giggling into his neck. Your heart still beats with a heavy pitter-patter. His laugh echoes in the car, and he holds you tightly. 

“I like your laugh,” you mumble into his neck. You press a kiss against him, and when you nuzzle into him, you can feel his pulse quicken.

“I like you,” he says tenderly. “A lot.”

You pull away, and his hands slip underneath your shirt, his hands burn against your skin as he holds your waist. “I like you a lot too.” You press a kiss against him. “Do you want to come back to my place?” Your hands move to cup his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you tease, kissing along his jaw. Underneath you, he stiffens and you smile. “How ‘bout it Dr. Ohnn?” You press yourself against him, giving a soft roll of your hips. “Wanna continue this back at my place?” You fix his glasses, and smile as he stares at you with heavy-lidded eyes with  pupils blown-out.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I’d-” and as if the universe were against the idea itself, his phone begins to ring. Quickly, you and him search for the phone, and just as abundantly as the tension had started, it ends. He grabs at his phone and clears his throat, giving you a smile before answering it. You can catch only snippets of the conversation, and you watch as his face falls, and he gives you a sad look. 

Disappointment makes your shoulders fall. Whatever was going to happen, isn’t. At least not tonight. Clumsily, and something a lot worse than the “walk of shame”, you move awkwardly off of him, careful to not touch the drinks, and to not hurt him. 

He finishes the conversation, just as you sit down. You turn to him, and wait for him to start. 

“I have to go. It’s about work,” he says pitifully. “I- I don’t know when- Maybe we can-” he stops himself short. “I’m sorry.” 

You smile, and close the gap between the two of you with another kiss. “‘T’s not your fault. Maybe we can pick this up again sometime.”

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully.

You nod. “Definitely.” You press another kiss against him. “I really do like you Johnathan.”

“And I really like you,” he mumbles, and your name sounds honeyed on his tongue. 

“Mind dropping me off at least?” You ask, not really looking forward to having to call for some taxi service of the sort.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything for you.”

-

There’s a tapping at your window. It’s soft at first, and you only noticed it due to the pattern behind it. You groan and turn over, grabbing at your phone and hiding under the covers. The screen is bright and blinds you for a moment before you read the time. 

The tapping at the window hurries and it’s far too late- or early depending how you look at it- to deal with whatever or whoever is behind the glass. You close your eyes, your stomach twisting into itself and hoping that after a few more knocks, whoever or whatever will just move on. 

Then it starts to bang, and you jump with a start, almost going to turn on your bedside lamp, but stopping yourself. Maybe you could trick whoever is behind the glass that you’re asleep or not home. 

You’re tempted to grab at the pocketknife that you have hidden somewhere in your bedside table. The knocking on your window grows relentless. Whoever is there is banging, and then it just stops. You hold your breath, slowly reaching your hand to grab at the knob to the drawer to blindly look for the knife while your gaze stays focused on the window. 

On the other side, the words are muffled, and soft, but you hear them. Your name is whispered again in a hushed tone, the knocking returning, begging for you to answer. Slowly, your hand returns to your side, and the bed creaks as you shift your weight. 

You recognize the voice. It’s him. 

“Johnathan?” You ask in a shaky voice, hoping that you’re right.

“Yes,” he says hurriedly. 

The blankets have twisted themselves around you, and you kick them off. As you shift and turn, the bed creaks. Light fills the room, a warm glow that has you wincing and moving towards the window.

“Give me a minute. Let me open the window.” Your hands fist at the curtain when he replies.

“No!” He shouts, and in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Don’t.”

Your hand returns to you, and you remember the rumor that was going on around Alchemax.

How Dr. Ohnn wasn’t- right. How he wasn’t human, or how he should have died. It was a joke around the office, as if whatever happened was humorous, but when someone asked, the joke died. 

He couldn’t be whatever it is that the others were describing him as.

“Johnathan?” You call out. He knocks against the window. “Are- You can come in. It’s okay,” you reassure him. 

“No,” he says again.

You frown, and fist your hands together, your nails digging into your palms. “Then I’m going to open the window.”

“Don’t.” He sounds scared.

“Johnathan.” Your voice is stern, at least that’s what you’re hoping for.

“This was a mistake,” he says. You’re sure that he’s talking to himself, but even so, you reply.

“You came here,” you hiss out, face burning with some type of emotion.

It’s silent, and you fear that he’s left. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “I just- I wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

Your shoulders slump. “I wanted to see you too.” It’s silent and you take a deep breath. “Please come in.” 

“Okay,” he finally concedes. Before you can make your way to open the window, his voice starts again. “But you don’t have to open the window. I can get in.”

A nervous laughter escapes your mouth before you can stop it. “Whatever you say.”

You look around, wondering what he’s going to do. Maybe he’ll walk through the door. Or appear in a vent. But then a black spot forms on the ceiling, and you watch as something white, and black spotted exits through the hole. And then all at once, a lump of whatever it was falls to your floor. 

It groans out in discomfort, and you watch as legs and arms straighten themselves out. Once upright, a man-shaped person- you aren’t entirely sure- is faced towards you. A black spot where a face should be stares at you.

The rumor was true. There’s a twisting in your stomach, and you yelp, pressing yourself against your headboard, and you immediately regret it, when he stiffens and moves closer to your bedroom door.

It’s Johnathan. 

He’s all skin and spots, standing far too tall in your bedroom.

“I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t expecting-” you bite at your bottom lip- “spots. Do you-” You pause. Does he eat? Does he drink? He stands so awkwardly, shifting his weight, and it reminds you of him. It’s still him. “Do you want to sit down with me?” You pat the space next to you, the one on the bed that’s close to the wall. 

He must be feeling some type of way because he nods and walks over. He’s a mess of limbs, legs long and hands cup and twist at the bed sheets as he sits next to you. He still looks away from you. 

You missed him. You open your mouth to tell him just that, that you wanted to see him and were worried for him. 

“How have you been?” You bite the inside of your cheeks at the wrong words.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve missed you.” He looks at you, and you stare into the hole that place where his face once was. You wonder what expression he would make. You think he’d look surprised. “I quit Alchemax. There were cops and stuff and well thankfully I wasn’t a scientist so I was able to just leave. Cops still asked me some questions.”

“Where are you working now?”

“There’s this little library a few streets over-” you wave your hand in a vague direction- “pay’s all right, but I had some money saved up. I uh- might move. Get a smaller place, you know.”

“I think I’m not gonna have a place to live.”

“You can stay with me,” you say. “I’d like the company. You know, as long as you help pack and stuff. We- I can get your stuff from your place. You know, if the police haven’t taken anything as evidence.”

“Most of it has been taken.” He doesn’t explain further.

“I can get you some new clothes.” You peer at him, and you can’t help but just stare at him. “I’d uh- I’d have to measure you. Get you a scarf, or a hat. Maybe both,” you add.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom and I look like this.”

You frown. “Yeah, well,” you trail off. You rest your head on a white part of him, your hand over his chest, fingertips just below a black spot. “I’m glad that you’re here. I was worried. I thought that- that something else had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for making you worried.” You know that he means it.

“It’s okay.” You aren’t sure if you mean it. You worried yourself to tears. He grunts out a response, and you kiss at a white area on his shoulder. “Are you hungry?” You furrow your brows. “Can you eat?” 

“You wanna ask about the holes, right?” He says, and you nod. “Might as well get it out of the way,” he mutters.

“What are they?”

“Spots. I’m thinking about calling myself The Spot.” He turns to you, and you grab at a hand, rimming the edge of it with the pad of your forefinger. “What do you think?” He says your name, but stops short, when he realizes what you’re doing. “Oh.”

You pull away, and he grabs at your hand and brings it back. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Can you feel it?” You ask, returning to another spot.

He nods swiftly. “You can put your hand in it.” You look up at him and tilt your head curiously. “In my hole. You can put your hand in my hole.” You snort at the phrase, but take him up on his offer.

Your hand disappears, and you watch as it comes up on another spot of his body. You flex your hand, and it’s surreal, seeing it appear from somewhere else. 

“Woah,” you breathe out. “You’re so cool,” you mutter. 

“You think so?” He asks incredulously. 

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, pulling your hand partly out, watching as your fingers still peek out. “Super cool,” you mumble. You pull your hand out and you smile up at him. You turn your hand, seeing it fully intact, and you try to fight back a yawn, only to fail. “Are you tired?”

“I woke you up,” he says in a small voice.

“I’m glad that you did,” you say earnestly. “I’m happy that I got to see you.” You hold his hand in yours, and your fingertip goes along the white area of his body. “Do you want to spend the night?” You tighten your hand around his. “I want you to. I’d like you to get some rest.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

“In your bed?”

You snort. “Of course, in my bed. It’d be fucked up if I gave you the couch or something.” You let go of his leg and slap his knee. “Come on, Johnathan. Get under the covers.” You grab at the furled up mess of blankets, straightening them over your body and his. He watches your every move, and keeps his face turned in your direction until the light clicks off and you can’t see him. You lay beside him, turning on your side, and resting your hand over his chest, careful to not let your hand dip into one of his holes. 

“Goodnight,” he says your name in a quiet voice, one of his hands clutching onto your forearm.

“Night Johnathan,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against him.