#i have a lot of messy thoughts and feelings about this game

[the-river-delta]

The tragedy of the OGL and Starfinder 1e

The controversy regarding the Open Game License that Wizards of the Coast sparked in 2023 had many consequences big and small, from 5e's SRD being put into Creative Commons to the creation of the ORC license (and Pathfinder 2e's shift to it in the Remaster), but one of the more unfortunate and less-discussed casualties has been that of Starfinder 1st Edition, which as a huge fan of said game I wanna talk about in this probably overlong post.

The Starfinder Roleplaying Game - the strange science-fantasy spinoff of Pathfinder (itself a spinoff of 3rd edition Dungeons & Dragons), supposedly developed and put out by its publisher Paizo to make up for the inevitable drop in sales that Pathfinder would experience upon the announcement of its new edition.

As something developed around 2016 and launched in 2017, at a time when the much simpler DnD 5e was on a meteoric rise, the largely Pathfinder- and in turn-3.5-shaped rules chassis of SFRPG could've come off as a little clunky or even downright archaic to a lot of people (not helped by problems such as the infamously awkward starship combat rules that needed emergency errata to mathematically function, continuing to be controversial throughout the game's lifespan).

I myself have gotten into TTRPGs at around that time, but remained somewhat unaware of Starfinder for a couple years - the announcement and eventual launch of Pathfinder Second Edition is what indirectly made me pay attention to Paizo and their games beyond a failed attempt at getting into Pathfinder purely as a crunchier 5e alternative, at the time divorced from the context of anything other than the humongous, nigh-incomprehensible mountain of rules and options that was impossible to navigate without the help of a more experienced friend.

Since that fateful 2018-19 however, Starfinder gripped me more and more in concept, presentation, and even the rules - though my actual play experience to this day is embarrassingly low as either a player or GM, I've legitimately come to love the tweaks it made to the already venerable PF1 ruleset to really make itself feel like a high-octane science-fantasy adventure game, and I fell greatly in love with the game's setting; Yes, it was and is the kind of sci-fi kitchen sink that tries to accommodate everything from cyberpunk and to military SF to space opera and soft sci-fi and Pathfinder-in-space-type science fantasy, but good art direction and writing made it all feel surprisingly coherent for such a big-tent premise.

Parallel to all this, I've played and run a great deal of games far beyond the d20 sphere, and slowly discovered what kind of roleplaying games I really enjoy playing and running - but all this time, Starfinder remained in the back of my mind, and I found great joy in perusing each new supplement - for the artwork, for the lore, for the rules and player options.

As Pathfinder 2e grew in popularity, there were a lot of people who wanted its science-fantasy sibling to also adopt the PF2 ruleset, with its sleek three-action economy and all other rules tech that its proponents loved so much, and at the time at least, Paizo denied having any such plans, choosing to keep Starfinder going as-is. I myself began as one of those "Starfinder 2e would be so good" people, but my enthusiasm for PF2 eventually waned somewhat, at the same time as my appreciation for SF1's ruleset grew, so I began to push back on the idea somewhat, or at least suggest caution.

And then, the Open Game License crisis rippled across the d20 portion of the TTRPG industry (that is, most of the visible and profitable part of it) - fearing legal reprisal from Wizards of the Coast, Paizo rapidly worked to distance Pathfinder from the OGL rules and concepts it was built on, Remastering the game and moving their work onto the newly-developed Open RPG Creative license.

At first, it was not clear what the plan was for Starfinder, even more entangled in the OGL than PF2 was, given its stronger PF1 and 3.5 roots.

Then, at GenCon 2023, Paizo announced Starfinder Second Edition, with a playtest launching a year later.

Sounds great, right? This is what the people have been asking for all this time!

Then, more details were revealed - Starfinder 2e would be wholly adopting PF2's ruleset, down to being able to freely mix ancestries, classes, equipments, spells, etc. from one to the other (something that 1st edition gestured at with some early guidance at converting PF1 stuff to SF1 bits, but was largely dropped and forgotten in the long run).

Between this and some other things, that's where my worries really began.

Part of what made Starfinder so appealing to me were the things that made it stand apart at the system level - the unique skill list (featuring things like Culture, Engineering, Physical Science and Life Science, Computers, Piloting, and Mysticism as a catch-all magic skill), the Health/Stamina/Resolve Points system (which vastly alleviated the need for a dedicated healer or long periods of downtime between encounters to heal up), the different weapon and armor proficiencies (like Longarms, Advanced Melee, and Powered Armor instead of simply the same old Martial Weapons or Medium Armor), magic simply being magic instead of an arcane/divine distinction (and only going up to 6 levels instead of 9 - though apparently that was a page space concern for the original core book more than anything), and a myriad other things.

And even though SF2 would benefit from things like the PF2 proficiency tiers, three action economy, and degrees of success, it would also be saddled with the things that first edition consciously did away with - so magic now is split up into one of the four traditions (arcane, divine, occult, primal), overriding some fun 1st edition lore about how modern society no longer differentiated between those. Even the skill list has been turned to be the same as that of PF2, with the merciful additions of Computers and Piloting - but things like Religion, Performance and Crafting are a thing now.

At least we're still paying in credits instead of silver and gold pieces.

There are other changes that frustrate or perplex me (like how technomancer and mechanic, two classes that were in 1st edition since the start but are being left out of the SF2 core and saved for later - though at least aren't being cut altogether, same with starship rules... or the fact that SF2 is doubling down on being silly and having a god of memes in the core pantheon and a skill feat for Trolling People With Your Online Posts), and many of these may seem like small-potato issues (the distinction between Kinetic Armor Class and Energy Armor Class was pretty minor in practice after all), but in aggregate all of these things made SF1 properly standalone and unique in a way I fear is being sacrificed for SF2 at the altar of compatibility with its biggest fantasy sibling Pathfinder.

Paizo's messaging on the subject has also been mixed - they say the game will be properly standalone after launch, yet they're also careful about designing each SF2 class as to not step on the toes of an extant PF2 class (because you can just bring in said PF2 class into your SF2 game instead, right?), resulting in something like the Soldier (which in many ways was a fighter in space in 1st edition, even though I'd argue it was a pretty baller implementation of the idea) being vastly reconceptualized to a rather mixed reception from SF1 fans; And in general, a lot of the current marketing about SF2 feels like it's been aimed at Pathfinder 2e fans first ("you can now play using your favorites ruleset IN SPACE, or bring in cool laser guns and solarians and freaky aliens into your Pathfinder game!") and at SF1 fans second (and even then, with a kind of implicit aim towards the "man I wish Starfinder just used the 2e ruleset" crowd of Starfinder players - look I was one of them at one point, I get it).

Even the big Starfinder 2e playtest actual play at GenCon couldn't have been a fully SF2 game, as it featured the iconic PF2 investigator in the adventuring party. Sure, it was just a marketing thing to do for fun at a convention, but it's not helping SF2 escape the "it's the sci-fi expansion to PF2" perception.

Some Paizo staff have said that Starfinder 2e was already being tinkered with even before the OGL crisis hit, but that the event kicked the development on it into high gear - causing two entire rulebooks and an adventure path for SF1 to be canned (even though one of them, the Faction Guide, already had freelancer assignments submitted in and even had the cover art ready to go; another was the Extraplanar Archive, which would've delved into what the wider multiverse of SF1 was up to, a book I personally wanted for the entire run of first edition, so while it wasn't worked on a lot at the time, knowing it fell through hurts me in particular as a fan of extraplanar science-fantasy stuff!) - I get it, Paizo is a business and that was a business decision, but it didn't feel good to hear either way.

Speaking of which, the week before GenCon, Paizo dropped a really frustrating bombshell onto the community: they had updated and revised their community licenses and policies, two of which have caused some serious uproar.

For one, to continue distancing themselves from the Open Game License, the Pathfinder and Starfinder Infinite programs (which allow community members to publish paid supplements for Paizo games that utilize their intellectual property, settng and proper nouns and all) would no longer be accepting OGL-based products for either PF1 or SF1 starting in September. PFI and SFI have problems of their own with the large cut and exclusivity involved (much in the way that D&D's and WotC's Dungeon Masters' Guild program does), but it still stings.

The other, arguably even worse news, was regarding the Paizo Community Use Policy (link to an archival version in case Paizo deletes the live version altogether) which allowed community members to use Paizo IP and imagery in noncommercial products and projects - it has been suddenly replaced by the Fan Content Policy (which in addition to being a worse, more corporate sounding name, is also exactly what WotC calls their own equivalent document).

The FCP is much more restrictive about what one can use it for compared to the old CUP - crucially, it's not applicable to "game products" such as, and I quote, an adventure module, sourcebook, character builder, rules database, video game, board game, etc.

While projects with bespoke Paizo licensing agreements like Archives of Nethys and the Foundry VTT module are unaffected, projects that relied on the CUP like Hephaistos (a beloved Starfinder 1e community tool, covering everything from creating characters to managing campaigns and encounters) have been forced to either cease development altogether (which would allow them to be grandfathered into the FCP, provided they would no longer receive any changes) or go back and be scrubbed of Paizo IP (which would be both time consuming and incredibly messy for a game where the OGL-published rules and Paizo-owned lore are so intertwined).

While a number of Paizo staff have said that they'd look into revising the policy to not completely screw the community over like that, it's already done a lot to damage people's trust in the company, further compounding the already strong sense of alienation many 1e fans have been feeling over the past year since SF2 has been announced.

I've played a good deal of PF2, and am currently in the process of preparing to run some SF2 playtest games, and I'm near-certain that Starfinder 2e will on the whole end up being a whole lot more popular than 1st edition ever was, both on its own merits and certainly as PF2's sci-fi spice cabinet - but there is a non-trivial subset of the existing SF1 community that is just bummed out about this whole thing. If nothing else, I now understand how many PF1 fans felt when the game went in a different direction from what they originally came to it for (even though I'd still argue it's good some of the more bigoted stuff was left by the wayside) - except now Starfinder 1e doesn't even have the benefit of easily continuing under a community banner, with the new Starfinder Inifnite and Fan Content policies.

I don't have a great way to wrap this up - there is only so much that feedback I submit regarding the SF2 playtest will accomplish (something I still intend to do, to at least help out testing the parts that are on the table for change and improvement), and getting anyone, at Paizo or otherwise, on board with the OGL again is likewise infeasible, so I doubt anyone is willing to create yet another OGL-based spinoff and repeat the 3.5-Pathfinder cycle.

SF1 will probably remain playable, but if the fan policy continues to impede the development of digital tools that the game so strongly benefitted from, its prospects of upkeep (let alone growth) seem far more grim now than they did three weeks ago.

So while new SF2 fans are feverishly arguing if the promised SF2 ranged meta can work with PF2's cover rules or whether it was a good idea for the 2e witchwarper to be merged with the 1e precog... I'm just more than a little bummed out about this uncomfortable limbo state that SF1 has been put in, a far less graceful death than PF1 received.

[margh0sts]

save me dnd captain's log,,,,,, dnd captain's log,,, save me,,,

[setaflow]

If you're wondering why I haven't posted any thoughts about the Rangers' offseason moves, it's because you're probably not gonna like what I'm gonna say about it lol.

[35253319]

Prolly gonna sound rlly scummy of me but ARGH 😖

These days I can't help but think I'm a nobody to everybody. And that'll never change cause everyone proves this sentiment in their little actions. And I forgive and reassure them so they don't feel bad but it sucks. And idk how much longer I can take this treatment. I feel like over time I've slowly but surely grown a tiny bit bitter. It hurts to see people having the ability to converse so easily, whilst me, struggling to be transparent even with the people who are meant to be my closest, because I fear frustrating them and annoying them, all of such claims having basis, at least in my head. And every time I see such positive interactions of course I'm happy for the person but I can't help but wander what on earth is wrong with me and why it's almost a sin for me to have those things too, and why I am eternally stuck in this useless position of pining and obsessing and loving so deeply when others cannot give me even 0.5% of the love that I give. Or why I have to humiliate myself and beg for it when worst comes to worst and I'm at my breaking point ( which mind you I have a waaay higher tolerance to peoples demonic treatment towards me than the average person ) and even then I get cussed out for speaking out even though it's painfully obvious ( either I verbally express how deep my pain is or I show it ) how much pain I am in, but either way even then I get the short end of the stick. Then I'm forced to carry the broken pieces on my own that they smashed even more, even when I need psychological evaluation because their behaviour has lead me to such a breaking point I might as well be thrown in some mental institution.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

fem reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the caf�� seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[strawberry-miiiiiiiiiiiilk]

sitting in my room for a half hour thinking about how if we lived in a better world Ada Wong would be the Ilsa Faust of Resident Evil (primarily in how she's introduced in Rogue Nation), with a dynamic to leon not unlike Fujiko Mine's and Lupin's in which they are both extremely competent and in situations in which they may have to work against and occasionally with each other on a mission, but ultimately are forced to stay apart and while they may be apart and even have different love interests from each other, ultimately still care deeply for one another. They are compelled to go after each other in part because it's so difficult and they are so often in circumstances in which they can't be with each other. The thrill of the chase and all that.

Ada being only tangentially related to the other character's stories because the world is simply larger than them and she has her own concerns and problems to deal with, and to have that be given any care or weight in a story, let alone focus. That she can be cunning and even manipulative but because she needs to and will still choose not to when the chips are down because she is genuinely caring--which I know none of that is new ground for her but I wish it was done in a more interesting way and *without leon at all*. She chooses to show mercy in a key point not because she's in love with that other character.

And also that she has more personality. I dig the subdued nature of her in 4r and her subtle sarcasm but it's just crumbs. I want her to be silly on occasion and say dumb jokes because she's alone like in 2r. I want her to shed a bit of that seriousness when she's on the clock because she's confident in herself as a professional and again has no one to put up a façade to.

It's honestly kinda embarrassing reading this back as I realize most of what I'm writing is not only already present in the games but incredibly tropey in and of itself, and wouldn't improve the character much. Dear god I think too much of my view of the character has been marred by shallow fanworks depicting her. I think if anything it's a sign that:

I'm a shit writer and need to do way more than watch movies and gesture vaguely at them to come up w a decent story or character (that being said as much as I prefer Fallout as a film, I stand by my earlier statement of Ilsa Faust being the ideal spy woman as she's depicted in Rogue Nation as she has a distinct set of goals and needs that are complex and developed largely tangentially to the protagonist's, at least initially).

It's going to take a completely new approach to her character to get something remotely interesting and that takes advantage of her potential.

For as mired in tropes as she and every other character and story in Resident Evil is, Ada could be far more memorable and enjoyable if only there was more care and effort to giver at least some interests and goals (perhaps even...characterization) on her own other than being a sexy love interest and potentially traitorous (as so many femme fatales already are).

[f1fantasys]

FUCK (literally and metaphorically)

Summary - exes who get back together, leading to A LOT of smut.

Warnings : Smut, swearing, minors DNI, fingering, p in v sex, anal, oral sex - both male and female receiving.

4.8 K

You and Lando had been dating on and off few about 2 years now. It started off as friends with benefits - neither of you were able to put in the time and effort for a relationship because of his f1 and your modeling career - so it was just hook ups for a quick fuck whenever you were free and in the same country. Obviously though, feelings were soon coming in strong for the both of you, so you became official for a bit, until it was becoming too difficult, so you mutually broke it off. Until you found your way into each others beds more often then not. So it really was like a game of running around in circles.

You had last seen Lando 2 months ago, before he jetted to Asia and USA for his races, where you 'broke up' again. You'd told him that that was the last time, and that you both seriously needed to move on from each other. It was hard, you wont lie - the both of you full of emotions and not wanting to let go - but it was also for the best. Your careers were too demanding.

Last night though - he texted you.

In town for a bit, staying at the lake house with my parents for the weekend. Wanna come over tomorrow night? They'll be out.

Lan.. you started replying but he was quick to send another text.

I know what we said last time, but I really need to fucking see you

Okay, what time?

Say 10? Bring swim clothes

You just reacted to his message with a heart.

You were a mess today. Why were you so nervous to see him?

Maybe because you didn't want to walk away? Didn't want to have to leave him again?

You wore a skimpy red bikini and threw on a pair of denim shorts and tank top. The drive to the lake house was not far from yours - so you got there in good time.

You grabbed your bag and made your way to the door. Holding in a breath and you knocked.

''It's open'' you heard him say.

You pushed the door open and there he was. Standing in the kitchen in nothing but his swim shorts, opening a bottle of wine, sending you his deliciously handsome smile.

''There she is'' he said, putting the wine down and coming up to you before pulling you in for a tight hug.

You responded immediately to his touch. It instantly calmed you down and took the nerves away. This was your Lando - how could you be nervous about him, you thought to yourself.

''Hey Lan'' you breathed out.

He pulled back and looked at you, eye wandering between your own eyes and your lips.

But he couldn't hold back anymore. He crashed his lips to yours as he picked you up by your thighs and set you on the counter. His lips were sloppy and messy against yours, which had you moaning into the kiss. Lando took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You ran your hands along his bare back as he lowered his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at your sweet spot.

''Lan'' you panted.

''Missed you so fucking much this time'' he whispered, slowly peeling your top of of you.

''I missed you too'' you couldn't help but mutter between breathes.

''Fuck'' he said before pulling back. He must have seen the worried look so he quickly smirked at you. ''The nights' gonna end here and now if we carry on. Wine?''

You smiled back. ''Please''

He poured you both a glass before you went to sit outside. It was sort of chilly, so he had a fire going as well as the hot tub bubbling away.

''In or out?'' he asked, pointing at the hot tub.

''Hmmm, out for now'' you said.

You both took a seat and gazed up at the sky, just listening to nature, and happy to be in each others' presence.

''Soooo'' he started. ''How have you been. We actually didn't even catch up this time.''

''I know. But I've been good. I guess. Busy. Work's great.'' you looked at him as you continued- ''Missed you though. Been miserable without you''

Without any hesitation he pulled your chair close to his and interlocked your hands together.

''I've been thinking..'' he paused for a few seconds. ''About us. I hate being away from you. Not being able to text and call whenever i want. Not being able to kiss you when i want. I want to put in the effort to make us work. I want all of you, y/n''

You gasped at his admission. A bittersweet feeling washing over you. He was saying everything you've wanted him to say. But is it worth the risk? Getting back together, for real, and then having the risk of heart break when things don't work out.

Lando bought your hand up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles when you didn't respond straight away. But something in the way he was looking at your tonight made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. That there would be no heartbreak. You held on to that piece of hope.

''I want all of you too Lan. I want us to work, more than anything'' you pleaded back to him.

He smiled and pulled your whole body onto his lap, kissing you hard and deep. ''Just need to communicate, yeah?'' you nodded in response. ''And be honest with each other'' you added.

''Hmm mm'' he said, kissing you again. This time slow and sensual, still deep enough to make you see stars.

''You're mine forever, y/n. Never forget that'' he whispered.

''All yours Lan, always'' you said, peeling your top off for the second time tonight.

Lando gently stood up, lifting you with him, before stepping into the hot tub, lowering you down back on his lap, all the while his lips never left yours.

Things quickly turned heated, physically and metaphorically. The hot tub was steaming, already breaking a sweat on your faces. And your actions - well anytime the two of you were joined together, it was hot.

Lando's kisses became erratic, desperate. He was kissing, sucking, nipping, soothing every inch of your face and neck while all you could do was moan and pull on his hair, edging him on to give you more.

Your skimpy red bikini top was soon untied and ripped off of you, revealing your perky boobs and taunt, pink, hard nipples. You didn't miss how Lando's eyes turned a shade darker.

He lowered his mouth and began his onslaught on them. Sucking and biting at them relentlessly, over stimulating you.

''Lan, oh my god, slow down'' you panted, pulling harder at his hair so he'd get the hint. But of course he didn't. He was for sure leaving purple bruises for tomorrow, not showing any mercy.

He finally pulled back for air, but that didn't stop his fingers from sliding into your bikini bottoms to cup your sex. The movement had you jolting. He was the last person - besides yourself - to touch you there, and that was over two months ago. So to finally feel what-or who-you've craved so much of, sent your spiraling and reacting instantly.

He spoke with a teasing tone. '''Fuck, y/n. Already this wet. For me?'' he asked smirking at you, gliding his fingers through your folds.

''Fuck you Lan'' you teased back.

''Baby. You're gonna fuck me. My fingers. Now.'' he said, lining two finger up at your entrance, not pushing in yet though. You gave him a confused look when he stopped. But just chuckled. ''Fuck my fingers, y/n''

Something clicked in you and you finally got the hint. You quickly lowered your self on his fingers. The stretch burning you, but nearly not enough to what you craved.

''That's it. So tight and slick for me'' Lando said as he pulled your face down to lock lips once again.

You set a brutal pace, chasing the high that you needed, while Lando added a third finger to the mix, also finding your clit with his thumb.

''Lando, I'm close'' you moaned into the kiss. He didn't reply verbally though. He just curled his fingers at just the right moment, rubbing them against the spongy spot in your cunt, which sent you trembling over the edge.

Your orgasm left you body hard and fast, shaking while Lando held you in his arms, slowing his fingers, riding you through the intensity. You groaned his name, squeezing his biceps as you let your juices release on his fingers.

The two of your just embraced each other for a few minutes, before Lando carefully slid his fingers out of you and lifted you out the water to sit on the ledge with just your legs staying in the water.

The cool air of the night hardened your nipples and raised goosebumps on your skin as Lando pushed you back to lie down, as he stepped in between your legs and spread them apart.

He took your bikini bottoms off and threw them to the side. Now your cunt was on full display. He reached forward and licked the cum that was still dripping out of you. The feeling of his tongue sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making you latch onto his hair again.

''Hmm Lan, more. Please'' you begged.

His slow pace was soon replaced with a series of ferocious licks and sucks, his mouth lapping at your cunt as if he were starved - which he would argue he is.

''So fucking delicious babygirl, missed my favorite taste'' he murmured before continuing his activity.

You opened your legs further, giving him better access. He added a finger to play as well, and within minutes you felt that all too familiar warmth start to build up in your stomach. All it took was one bite of your clit between Lando's teeth and you violently came all over his face.

''Fuck y/n, that was a load full. So fucking sexy'' he commented, making sure to swallow all that you gushed his face with.

He sat back down and pulled your jelly-like body onto his lap again. The warm waster soothing your aching pussy that was still throbbing.

Lando took your face in his hands and peppered you with feather like kisses. His finger stopped at your mouth and you took it in without hesitation. Suck at it, eyes not leaving his.

You suddenly whined, an urge to taste him over coming you.

''Lan, need to taste you. Please'' you said, already climbing off him and pulling his shorts off underwater.

But he stopped you. ''Later. First need to fill you up. Need to feel you around me. Please y/n.''

Your brain short circuited as soon as the words left his mouth. As you forgot how much you wanted needed him in you.

You were quick to climb onto his lap again, this time his dick was rubbing against your inner thigh, feeling hard and hot.

You took him in your hands, pumping him a few times as he moaned your name.

''Oh y/n. Fuck.''

You giggled at him. You'd hardly touched him and he was putty in your hands, pulling at your hair now.

''Laugh at me again and I won't let you cum'' he said, very matter of factly, though his smirk told you a different story.

''Oh yeah?'' you teased, lifting yourself up slightly and running his cock through your folds.

''Babygirl you'll be the death of me''

''Hmmm mm'' you mumbled, already distracted by feeling him on your most sensitive parts.

Lando took your face in his hands again. He kissed you, his tongue sliding back in and then sucking harshly on your tongue. ''Gonna ride me yeah? Fuck me til you're screaming my name?''

''Lan'' you breathed. Your cunt clenching desperately, needling to feel him now.

He took his dick out of your hands and lined himself up at your entrance.

In one swift movement you sank down on him. He filled you up to the brim. You sat still, allowing your body to accept the intrusion, the stretch was sore, but in seconds the pleasure over came you and you began to move.

Lando's hands settled at your waist, his touch light, as he let you set the pace. Your hands found his hair again, pulling at it as you rode him.

''So fuckin tight for me angel. That's it baby, fuck me harder'' he mumbled between breaths.

By now all coherent thoughts had left your mind. All you could do was moan his name, chant it through gritted teeth, as your movements became faster and faster.

You don't think you'd ever ridden him - or anyone - this hard before. Your pace was brutal. You could feel him hitting just the right spots inside of you, and the water of the hot tub was splashing all over.

''Lan'' you moaned again, guiding his head to your boobs to let him suck softly on your nipples.

You were both so caught up getting lost in each other's bodies that you didn't hear the front door open and close, voices from inside the house muttering away.

That was until you heard Lando's mum speak.

''Lando? Are you outside honey?'' she called.

You both stopped in your tracks, movements coming to a halt.

You were so fucked out to react - to separate away from him, so you just sat still, his dick inside of you.

''Fuck'' he muttered.

''Yeah mum, but I'm good. Go to bed'' he yelled back.

But of course, Cisca, oblivious to what was going on, had to come outside.

''Lan -'' She started but gasped when she saw you - your back to her.

You just hid your face in his neck, not sure you could even get a word out while still feeling him twitch in your cunt.

He let out a nervous chuckle. ''Mum'' he said, smiling at her.

She was dumbstruck, confused? You didn't know.

''It's just y/n, mum'' he said, trying to detactch yourselves but failing to do so.

''Y/n, good to see you. Uh, I'm gonna go inside. I'll see you later'' she said, as something must have clicked in her.

You heard the sliding door close and let out a breath of relief, looking back at the house, then back at Lando.

''Fuck me'' he said, eyes still watching his parents inside, who he could see were desperately trying to busy themselves and go upstairs.

''I kinda was until... how the fuck am I gonna face your parents now'' you pondered, slightly turned off at thinking about it.

''I don't know. We'll deal with it later. For now I need to feel you around me again'' he said, pulling out and pumping himself a few times.

Once he saw the lights downstairs were turned off and no Norris' were in sight, he man handled your body to bend over the sides of the hot tub.

Oh boy you thought to yourself, he's not gonna let you off easily now.

''Anal, yeah?'' he asked just as he lined his tip up with your hole.

All you could do was nod your head. It was new for the two of you, but it was something you only did a few times. You pushed your ass slightly in the air.

And he did. He slammed into you, causing you to let out a guttural moan. He was quick to cover your mouth with his one hand, while the other pulled at your hair.

''Have to be quiet, unless you want an audience'' Lando said through gritted teeth.

You didn't. So you muffled your moans into his hand.

He fucking into you so hard, with so much force, you weren't sure you would be able to walk after. But you didn't care. It felt amazing. He felt fucking amazing.

Not 5 minutes later and you whined. ''Need to come Lan, not gonna last long'' and before you could even finish your sentence, you gushed all over his cock. Your walls clenched around him, throbbed around him.

''Jesus, fuck, y/n, so tight''

You'd think he'd slow his movements and ride you through your orgasm, but this was Lando Norris. Of course he continued to fuck into you with no mercy.

You were sure you would black out if he didn't slow down soon. ''Lan, too much'' you mumbled.

He suddenly pulled out of you and turned out body around so you could took at each other.

''Want me to stop?'' he asked, smirking.

And fuck no, you did not want him to stop. The way your pussy was clenching around nothing sent your body into overdrive. You needed to feel him fill you up again.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so you bit your lip and he couldn't help but laugh at your antics.

''Thought so'' he said, before thrusting back into your normal entrance, very quickly setting a pace that had you seeing stars, while his hands settled on your boobs and fondled with them.

''Lan'' you whined again.

''Doing so good for me princess. So fucking good. Taking me to well.''

You could feel Lando's girth twitching inside of you, his movements getting sloppier by the second.

''Fuck, so close y/n. Together, yeah babygirl?'' he asked.

You nodded again, unable to form any words. He bought his hand up to wipe at the tears that were leaving your eyes.

''Almost there my love. Keep going'' he encouraged you.

''Lan I'm - '' but you were cut off by Lando pinching you clit, your orgasm washing over you which had your body jittering and shaking once again, unable to control yourself. And just at the same time you felt him shoot ropes and ropes of hot cum deep within you. His own body shuddering and whines and moans leaving his mouth.

He pulled your body back into the water to settle above him, dick still inside you, softening quickly.

You slumped forward on him, and he rested his arms on the back of the hot tub, both gasping for air, a thick sheet of sweat plastered on both your faces.

''Fucking hell. That was incredible y/n.'' he said he lifted your head to look at you. His eyes were still shades darker than usual.

You still couldn't form any words, so you smiled sheepishly at him.

''I love you'' he whispered.

Now all the air had left your lungs. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but something about the way he said it now had reignited all the butterflies in your tummy.

You tears had now returned, so he gently kissed them away before settling his lips on yours, kissing you softly.

''I love you too'' you whispered back, in between kisses.

''Let's get cleaned up yeah? Cuddles after?'' he asked, knowing what your answer would be. It was always cuddles after sex, no matter what.

Lando carried you out he water and made a beeline for his room upstairs, hoping everyone was asleep, since you were both butt naked.

Lando placed you on his bed and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you whining for him.

''Baby I'm back just went to get a warm cloth. He spread your legs apart, fully intending you just clean you up, but his brain nearly short circuited when he saw cum still leaking out of you - more so at the thought of his cum leaking out of you.

He bent down and as gently as he could- because he knew you were over stimulated- he licked a strip up your cunt, collecting as much cum as he could.

You gasped and jumped at the feeling, not expecting it at all.

''Lando! - '' but before you could even continue talking his hand hallowed your cheeks to pry your mouth open and the cheeky bastard let his cum drip from his own mouth down into yours.

You moaned, making sure to swallow every last drop, before he reached down and interlocked your lips once again.

''Dirty'' you chuckled, in between kisses.

''Hmm. Couldn't help it'' he mumbled, and after a while, he did eventually clean you up and spoon you from behind, the both of you drifting into an easy slumber.

You woke to the sun blazing on your body, strring sightly, forgetting where you were until you felt someone pull you closer.

Then it dawned on you - you were with Lando, and apparently back together with him, for real this time?

You could hear his soft snored so you gently turned your body to face his.

He looked angelic. Face contorted in a deep sleep still, mouth slightly agape, blowing cool air onto your own face.

Although you didn't want to wake him, you couldn't help but place a soft kiss on his lips.

You stayed staring at him, admiring him, for god knows how long, until he starting speaking, making you jolt at being caught.

''You're staring'' he mumbled.

''I'm gazing'' you cooed back.

''It's creepy''

''It's romantic''

Lando's eyes flew open and he immediately started tickling you all over.

''Lando! Stop!'' you shrieked.

''Romantic, huh? That's not how you rode me last night'' he smirked, settling his weight on top of you.

''Fuck you'' you mumbled, pulling him by his hair to connect your lips.

''Wrong. You want me to fuck you again, don't you?'' he asked, a knowing smile on his face.

You couldn't help but blush at his words, because, of course you wanted to fuck again.

But first, you wanted something else.

You pushed Lando back to lie on his back and threw your legs over him so you were now sitting on his stomach.

You very quickly noticed the slick dripping out of you. ''Someone's already so wet for me'' he firmly said.

''Shut up'' you replied, as you leaned down to kiss him again, rough and hard this time. You tongue slipping into his mouth for once, earning the sexiest moans from him.

You sucked on his bottom lip for some time until you felt his dick against your ass. Standing angry and tall, hard as rock.

You slid your hand back to pump him while you continued to kiss him, eventually bringing your lips to his neck to leave a few marks for him.

He started twitching in your hand, letting out more moans and a ''fuck, y/n, please'' bit of begging from him.

You made your way down to his nipples, sucking on each of them, biting them, then soothing them with your tongue, all the while you eyes remained locked on his.

Finally though, you slid down enough to see his cock standing in front of your eyes.

He already had pre-cum leaking from the slit, and the thick vein on the underside was protruding dramatically.

''Someones eager'' you threw his words back at him.

''Uh fuck please, please do something'' he begged again.

So you did. You put the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucked at it, hard, swallowing the salty pre-cum.

He hissed at the action. Hips bucking up unable to control himself.

Lando gathered all your hair and held it out of your face as you pushed his cock deeper into your mouth, deep throating him, instantly feeling him hit the back of your throat.

You pulled back for air, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his dick, so he couldn't help but pull you up for a quick kiss.

You pulled away quickly though, eagerly wanting to taste him.

He relaxed back and still help you hair with one hand, while his other rested behind his head.

Every few seconds he buck his hips up to go deeper inside of your mouth, causing you to gag and spring a few tears at the corners of your eyes.

''You're so fucking good at this baby. Best head ever.'' he managed between breaths.

Al you could do was hum at him. Soon his movements started to get sloppy and you could feel his dick twitching again. You knew he was close - so you did the one thing you knew would send him over the edge.

You sucked, hard on his tip again, and in no time he shot sheets of milky white cum down your throat, body shuddering. Listening to his moans had your pussy clenching around nothing, so you squeezed your thighs together as your rode him through his orgasm.

Eventually you pulled back. Your face was a mess. Tears stringing down your cheeks, slightly black with your eyeliner from last night, chin and chest slick with a mixture of sweat, spit and cum.

You breathlessly sat on his stomach again, but he quickly pushed you lower down so he could sit against the headboard and pull you closer.

Lando then began a serious of harsh licks off over your face and chin, chest as well, basically cleaning you up.

As he was doing that, you started to grind yourself against his thigh.

You were so wet already so you easily slid against him. rewarding him with harsh moans and grunts.

Once he 'cleaned you up'', Lando latched his mouth to your perky boobs again. You squirmed at the sensitivity until he started talking again.

''Baby, wanna fuck me again like last night? Ride me again? But this time no interruptions, yeah?''

His words had you dripping even more now. Your mind not being able to form any words. So you simply lifted your self up and lined his dick at your entrance. Then you sat. In one swift movement you sat down on him.

You didn't even give yourself any time to adjust. You very very quickly set a fast pace. Faster than last night if you could. You held his shoulders and gave him everything in you. Swift, quick movements of up and down.

''Oh Lan, yes. Feels so good;'' you mumbled, eyes rolling to back of your head.

''Shit'' he spat back, also not able to form any coherent thoughts. Just you riding him as if your life depended on it.

Within minutes your body was shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, and anyone im the room next door would definitely be able to hear you, but you didn't care. You couldn't even move, so Lando had to chase his own orgasm but jerking his hips up to meet yours, fucking you relentlessly.

''Fuck y/n, fuck. So good. So fuckin tight for me. Gonna fill you up now. Maybe fuck a baby into you, yeah? You want that?'' he asked, not fully releasing what he was saying. Not that you did either, but you reply to him was quick. ''Please Lan, use me was your whore. Give me a baby, fuck. Please fuck'' you said through gritted teeth.

Hearing you call yourself his whore, Lando immediately came inside of you. White cum painting your walls endlessly. His whole body shaking underneath yours.

You both stilled for a few minutes. Letting your breathing come down to normal (if it even could?), just basking in each others sweat and breath.

''Fuck me y/n'' Lando breathed out after a while.

You couldn't help but giggle.

''I just fucked you Lan, already want more?'' you teased.

''You're gonna fucking end me'' he said, pulling you in for a gentle kiss as you played with his curls.

You could feel his dick softening inside you, but as he tried to pull out you stopped him.

You made a shocked face. ''Lan. If you want that baby you'll have to push your cum further into me. Not pull out'' you said smirking.

His expression was priceless but so fucking cute you had to laugh at him.

''I-I'' you started but you cut him off.

''Lan relax, I'm joking. I do, definitely want a baby from you, one day. But for now, I'm on birth control..so we should be okay..I hope'' you said slowly, knowing it wasn't always 100% effective.

But you both just got into a fit of giggles thinking about what you said to each other in that moment.

Just as he started kissing you again, someone knocked on the other side of the wall.

''Hey lovebirds. Thank you so much for the wake-up call. I appreciate it. Oh and how was the hot tub last night?''

It was Flo, Lando's sister.

You both froze at her statement, faces going red and although you shouldn't be, shocked that she probably heard every single thing from this morning.

''Ummm heey Flo'' you chuckled nervously.

Authors note - hope you all enjoyed this. Maybe the most smut I've written? I think so. But I had fun. ALSO - did anyone peep the vampire diaries ref in there?

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[hxnbi]

ღ blue lock boys and their love language

₊˚Ꮺ pairings: nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru x gn. reader (separate)

♡ NAGI SEISHIRO◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

NAGI, even for his age, is extremely clingy. Whether it is day or night, busy or not, you will see a messy, white-haired teenager clinging to you like a needy koala. It was cute at first, you thought, that is, until you had to do your typical mundane tasks like washing the dishes, cleaning up, or even just doing something as simple as lazily looking at your phone in bed, for crying out loud. You're watching something? Oh well, now its we, all the while, as Nagi collapses next to you, holding you by the waist and pouting about how you didn't invite him.

“But Sei, I thought you hated gore?”

“I like it when I’m with you.”

“Uh huh…”

Though he loves games more than anything else, above all, he adores holding you in his arms, all the while he rambles on in short and scruffy murmurs, complaining about school and the supposedly awful cafeteria food. And keeping you while he's playing games in bed, with you watching him do so? That is Nagi's idea of a perfect date. What more could he ever want? All that he desires is right here in his arms.

♡ ITOSHI RIN◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

The dude doesn't have a colourful bone in his body. To those, even just imagining RIN having a significant other is enough to make those aware drop to an early grave. But, unbeknownst to most, Rin is extremely protective over you. To him, you are his other half, and he is willing to do anything in order to secure your safety above all else. And to also stay the hell away from his brother? Now, that's just a delightful bonus. To you, his sincere actions were his way of showing that he cared.

He considers himself to be your protector, and he will ensure you know this about him. You don't have to lift a finger; he's already on it. His presence alone makes your cheeks flush pink. The things that Rin does, whether it's to help you study for an English test or walk home together late at night, he goes out of his way to show his love and devotion to you and you only, even if it means taking on responsibilities and burdens.

♡ ISAGI YOICHI◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

ISAGI is a pure, earnest, kind-hearted boy—that is, when he's not on the field. But that's beside the point. Isagi is aware of his shortcomings and flaws, but he's not about to let that stop him from telling you all about him. Isagi is, undeniably, a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy with his unabashed display of affection towards you. For better or for worse, Isagi will let you know what he thinks. His love language becomes apparent. Isagi cherishes the intimacy of being close to his loved one.

He's all about being utterly and completely transparent with his feelings about you. Not even the most oblivious of people could see the way that Isagi looked at you and assume it was anything but pure adoration. Meanwhile, the others in Blue Lock would watch on from a distance with envy and possibly awe as you and Isagi were together. Or just plain disgust at the sight of romance in their vicinity. Everyone, regardless of what side they were on, had one thought in mind.

'Is this really the same guy from on the field…?'

♡ MIKAGE REO◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

When you're with REO, no day is complete without him taking you somewhere lavish, using his influence. You would often find yourself being showered with gifts and luxuries, but nothing is done without your consent, and Reo made damn sure that you were never uncomfortable. He has money, and he is not hesitant to use it. Nothing pleases him more than to spend money he believed to be mere pocket change in exchange for your happiness.

Reo is a busy guy with not only his studies but also being the heir of the Mikage Corporation and then Blue Lock. There's a lot Reo can obtain with money, but there are just as many things he can't—time. Interestingly enough, nothing screams fulfillment to him more than quality time, and utilizing his wealth to create those moments with you holds great significance to him—more than you could imagine—rather than merely simply buying material possessions.

♡ ITOSHI SAE◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

Itoshi SAE is famous, there's no doubt about it. Not only is he prided as the best player in Japan, but he is also recognized as one of the youngest. But that level of attention also comes with immense scrutiny. Sae takes pride not just in his football playing but also in his cold, blunt, and aloof persona. He has only ever cared about becoming the best striker in the world, but despite his own ambitions, he felt a simmering rage ignite in him whenever the media dared to mention you. Because to him, you were his other half.

He hated the press—absolutely despised it—and he was disgusted how every move you made, good or not, would then be scrutinized by reporters and the public alike. No matter what you did, people would give excuses that you didn’t deserve to be with him. Sae would make sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that doubt would never be cast in front of your eyes again. Doubting his love for you is his biggest fear, and it's because of that fear that he tries to spend every possible moment with you. Quality time is hard for a person like him to come by, but that gives even more reason to cherish the little time you both have. 

♡ BACHIRA MEGURU◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

Now, unlike Isagi and Nagi, BACHIRA is a delightful blend of both. He's just as clingy as Nagi, and his words can be just as endearing as Isagi. He is all over you with his words, adoring and cherishing you like there's no tomorrow. And to him, there really isn't. For his significant other, there is no point in hiding how he truly feels. This boy is unapologetically honest and is not above engaging in PDA. And so, when the opportunity presents itself, he is all over you. His eccentric energy personality really is contagious, and physical affection is Bachira's way of expressing love; it's his way of expressing that he genuinely loves you with no doubt.

During Bachira's childhood, he was actively bullied, which made him terrified of being alone. You saw that fear manifesting in the instances when Bachira, in the middle of the night, would tightly clutch onto you, showing no inclination to release his hold, consumed by the dread of losing you. At times when Bachira would be back home, he would envelop you in his arms, showering you with affection and whispering endearments, before quickly dozing off with you right in his arms like a stuffed animal, only to then oversleep, even after his alarm went off. With Bachira's phone buzzing in your grasp, you swiftly silenced it, opting to allow him to remain undisturbed in slumber as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. Perhaps, you can let him sleep peacefully by your side. Just this once.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[littlelamy]

Mr. & Mrs. Cameron; assassin!rafe x assassin!reader

a/n: i rewatched Mr. & Mrs. Smith and became inspired by Angelina and Brad’s characters! hope you guys like it🤍

you stand just outside the door, sunglasses low on your nose as you scan the horizon. the sun is starting to dip below the ocean, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange. rafe is leaning against the sleek black car parked out front, looking like trouble in the best way possible. his shirt is untucked, and he’s fiddling with the keys in his hand, but his sharp blue eyes are locked on you the second you step out of the car.

“you took your sweet time,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, the edge of a smirk playing on his lips.

you stroll up to him, taking your time, letting your heels click against the driveway with deliberate slowness. "miss me that much?" you tilt your head, eyeing him up and down. his hair is a little messy, and you catch a whiff of his cologne as you step closer. intoxicating. the same cologne he wore the last time you were in a tight situation together.

rafe chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “you wish, sweetheart.” his gaze flickers over you, scanning you head to toe. “how was your little ‘recon mission’?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s an edge beneath it.

“got what we needed,” you say coolly, pulling a silver USB drive from your jacket and tossing it to him. he catches it with one hand, eyes not leaving yours. “turns out, our target is a lot more predictable than you thought.”

he cocks a brow. "predictable, huh? that’s not what your little escape made it seem like." he twirls the USB between his fingers before sliding it into his pocket. "seems like you had some trouble back there."

“trouble?” you laugh, a low sound that dances on the edge of a challenge. “please, rafe. i handled it. alone. just like always.”

he steps closer, his body brushing against yours, the heat between you undeniable. "is that right?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "because from where i’m standing, it looks like i had to clean up your mess."

your eyes narrow, but you keep the banter going, not backing down. "your idea of cleaning up is sitting in a poker game while i’m out there doing all the work," you shoot back, poking a finger into his chest.

rafe grabs your wrist, but his touch is more playful than forceful. he grins, pulling you even closer, so close you can feel his breath on your neck. "admit it," he whispers, his lips dangerously close to your ear, "you like it when i watch your back."

your heart skips a beat, but you refuse to give him the upper hand. instead, you smile sweetly, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. "like it?" you purr, leaning in just enough that your lips graze his jaw. "or tolerate it?"

his jaw clenches, and for a split second, you see his calm exterior crack. but rafe’s too good at this game to let you win so easily. "tolerate?" he echoes, his voice deepening, eyes narrowing. “you sure about that? because the way you’re pressed up against me right now… doesn’t look like you’re just tolerating anything."

you can’t help the rush of adrenaline as the tension between you thickens, the game you both play always riding that fine line between control and surrender. you push back, your hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. "careful, cameron," you whisper, your lips brushing his collarbone, "you might start thinking i’m the one who’s calling the shots around here."

rafe's smirk returns, and he grips your waist, pinning you back against the car. "oh, sweetheart," he says, his voice a delicious growl, "you don’t have to pretend with me. we both know you like it better when i’m the one in control."

the breath catches in your throat, but you force yourself to stay calm, to play it cool. “control?” you echo, tilting your head back to look him dead in the eyes. "we both know you only think you have control."

his grin widens, and he leans in so close your noses almost touch, his lips barely a hair's breadth from yours. "you’ve got a real mouth on you," he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your lower lip, "but i wonder how long it’ll take before you stop talking and start begging."

your pulse quickens, heat pooling in your chest, but you don’t let him see you falter. instead, you push him back, laughing softly. "you wish." the tension simmers between you, your bodies so close, yet you keep him guessing, as always.

“keep pretending you’re not thinking about it,” rafe says, his eyes dark with a teasing gleam. he reaches for the door behind you, pulling it open. "but when you’re ready to stop playing games, you know where to find me." with that, he turns and walks into the house, leaving you standing there, the electricity of the moment still buzzing through your veins.

you stand frozen for a moment, your heart hammering, the thrill of the game lingering in the air. this back-and-forth with rafe—it’s like a dance, one you’ve perfected over time, both of you pushing, teasing, neither willing to back down.

with a deep breath, you finally step inside. the house is dimly lit, the golden light from the setting sun streaming through the windows. you hear rafe moving in the kitchen, the sound of glasses clinking together.

you slip off your jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair as you saunter toward him, determined not to let him get the last word. "you really think you’re that irresistible, huh?" you ask, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as you watch him pour two glasses of whiskey.

rafe glances up at you, that cocky smirk never fading. "i don’t think," he says, handing you a glass, "i know."

you take the drink, raising an eyebrow as you swirl the amber liquid in your glass. “oh? that confidence might just get you in trouble.”

he steps closer again, this time slower, more deliberate. "i don’t mind a little trouble," he says softly, his voice wrapping around you like a challenge. "but let’s be honest. you’re the one who’s gonna be in trouble if you keep pushing me."

you feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you don’t break eye contact, not for a second. "that so?" you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink.

rafe nods, stepping so close his chest brushes against yours, his hand reaching out to rest on your hip. "oh, yeah," he whispers, his lips ghosting over the side of your neck. "you’ve been asking for it all day."

your breath hitches, but you manage to keep your voice steady. "asking for what exactly?"

he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes. “to see what happens when you stop playing hard to get.”

your pulse races, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in the heat of his gaze, in the electric tension between you. but you’re not ready to let him win, not yet.

instead, you slide your free hand up his chest, your nails grazing the skin beneath his collar. "maybe i’ll stop playing," you whisper, your lips hovering over his, "when you give me a reason to."

rafe lets out a low, dangerous chuckle, his hand tightening on your waist as he pulls you even closer. "oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, his lips brushing yours, "i’ll give you plenty of reasons."

and before you can respond, his lips crash into yours, the tension snapping like a taut wire between you. it’s a kiss full of heat, full of everything you’ve been dancing around all day, and as his hands tangle in your hair, you know the game has only just begun.

taglist (comment below if you want to be added): @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[ambermeh]

It's casual

Matt Sturniolo (friends with benefits so smut will be present)

Matt was thrusting into you softly as you were dazed from the amount of time the two of you had been fucking. His head tilted back slightly, as you were encased between his two arms, softly moaning from the pleasure. Your arms grabbing his biceps, tracing over his tattoos. His head leaned in to kiss you, while he moaned from you clenching around him, as he hit the spot that most men would never be able to, again and again.

'Does that feel good pretty girl, hmm?'

'yes- fuck matt feels so fucking good'

But while you where doing that, your mind had started to wonder. You usually blamed this on you becoming almost delirious from the pleasure, this was not the case. Your mind had always been somewhat distant while you two were fucking. Travelling back to when he had proposed the arrangement. That you were going to be friends with benefits, he hadn't said it that callously but you knew what it meant. It meant he lusted over you enough to want to have sex with you, needed to have sex with you, perhaps. But did not like you enough to commit to an actual relationship.

His excuses were that it would be difficult for him to have a relationship because of his career, and the other girls he had you thought in your head at the time.

Why did he not think it would be difficult for you? Constantly having to drive over to his, or cancel plans when he wanted you. You had become isolated, obsessed more likely, with him and the arrangement. To you it wasn't casual, as he had described your relationship, or whatever it was, to Nick and Chris, that you had overheard while you were trying to get some water. The only clothes you had were his top and some shorts. It made you pause. Think. About what you were doing.

You were adults, for fuck sake. Why could he not grow up and commit to a relationship. But as he said it 'wasn't the right time', for him. You had been friends for ages. Everyone knew that you liked him, even Chris and Nick. So you knew he had to know. Was it all a joke to him? A little game to see how far you would go to impress him and fulfil your childish fantasies of wanting to be loved. To him, this arrangement it was a means to an ends, surely. He couldn't actually love you, could he? But you were too blind to even think about that, when the guy you had almost loved was actually seeing you.

You felt loved.

No matter how superficial it was.

You had told your friends all this before. They joked about it. A lot. Them knowing how you and Matt would never actually be together. You knew this as well, because he had any girl on a platter for him.

You should be grateful that he even looks at you. Grateful that he wants to sleep with you. Right?

You shouldn't want to be loved. Kissed. Wanted for you, not just sexually. Showed off. Known.

But the thoughts dissipate as reality kicks back in.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, his cum filling you, but you still felt used. You enjoyed it, why couldn't that be enough? A stream of soft tears slowly trickled down your glistening skin.

You laid there.

'aw sweetheart, it felt that good, did it?' He taunted while he wiped the tears away gently, not knowing that it was a taunt. A real one. Because the pleasure was no longer there, it was dull. Like the rest of you. You nodded, almost obediently.

'are we done here then?' you asked, forcing a joking tone out.

'you can always stay for a bit, but I am going out a bit later'

'oh' you say dismissively, not wanting to know all the details.

'you always look so pretty after, like i'm not even kidding, you look so good. Your hair all messy and your skin gleaming.'

You give him a smile and thank him. Why would he say that? Were you just overanalysing everything?

Getting up to go, you mention that you know the way to the door. He gives you a quick peck and hug and says to text anytime with a smirk.

Tears or starting to form. All you have to do is go downstairs and get to your car. Then you can contemplate your stupid breakdown. Why now? Why did you not think how attached you would be? Of course it would just be sex.

Nearing the door, the tears had been finally allowed to spill.

The car only being a few steps.

'Y/N'

Matt?

no. It didn't sound like him.

You turned round, it was chris? What did he want to say?

His eyes now slits of confusion as he walked up to you.

'you're crying'

'well done, you want a medal?' Inwardly cringing at the frustration being let out on Chris, he's been nothing but supportive.

'Errm nope, just, well, you didn't come say bye like normal, thought I'd check you were okay'

'oh, yeah, no I'm fine thank you, bye then Chris' You looked at him with a forced smile and hugged him goodbye. He didn't pull back.

'you're obviously not, stupid, so what did Matt do this time?'

You pulled back. The question repeating in your head, what had he done? In fact, he was perfect, he didn't violate you, you agreed to this. You knew you weren't the only one and still went ahead with it.

'no attachments' he had said, you laughed. He had taken it because you knew you weren't going to, but you laughed because you already had.

'he's done nothing, it's just me being emotional, I don't think I can see him anymore Chris.

'what? You literally love him Y/N'

'And that's the problem'

part 2 is done :) part 3 part 4

I don't know how to feel about this one, I think I treated this one a bit too much like therapy, I'll be back to lovey-dovey ones now. Love you all!!!!

(THANK YOU @enchanthings for the divider)

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? you got that something that keeps me so off balance. baby, you’re a challenge. let’s explore your talent.

THIS IS PART TWO! part one here. pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, blah blah blah place name proper name backstory stuff. warnings, sexual content & interruptions.

“—and she literally asked me what my name was. you heard that? and was dead serious, too.”

the team—well, most of the team burst out into a fit of laughter, their voices echoing through the locker room. it was game day—the same game paige had invited liana to. the same game the blonde paid for liana to go to. they’d only talked about a handful the past few days, the two of them shamefully finding excuses to text each other. the last thing they’d talked about was the game, the blonde confirming everything. in her own words, the girl needed a good ol’ uconn women’s basketball experience.

“man, what’s the point of being famous if people don’t even know who you are?” ice snickered, shaking her head as she pulled her jersey over her head. nika leaned back against her locker, her laugh coming out in short, breathy bursts as she tried to catch her breath.

paige let a small smirk tug at the corners of her lips, trying to play it cool. but deep down, it was bothering her more than she wanted to admit. she was paige bueckers. everyone knew her name. and yet here was this girl, this ridiculously pretty girl, who had managed to make her feel like just another student. that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it felt good in a way.

she pushed the thought away as the team continued to poke fun, turning her attention to her shoes, making sure they were laced up tight. they would be playing maryland, and although paige thought it would be an easy dub, she hoped liana wouldn’t be in viewpoint. she wouldn’t be able to focus that way.

“yo, paige.” kk’s voice cut through the laughter, her tone a bit more serious. paige glanced up, catching the way kk hesitated before she spoke again. “i don’t know if this matters to you or whatever, but… i think liana might be seeing someone.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, and paige’s grin faltered just slightly. she raised an eyebrow, waiting for kk to continue.

“like, there’s this girl me and aubrey saw her on campus with the other day. and she’s been checking her phone a lot when i’m around,” kk added, her voice low as if she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. but paige caught the implication, her attention immediately shifting to aubrey.

she turned to her teammate, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “you saw her too?”

aubrey looked up, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i saw them together a couple of times. seemed like more than just friends, you know?” she tried to put it into perspective for her, but paige didn’t even look like she was listening.

for a second, paige let the thought sink in. another girl, huh? she didn’t know why, but it almost made her smirk. this wasn’t some random guy she could brush off. it was another girl—competition, maybe, but also an opportunity. it didn’t shake her confidence; it only made her more certain of what she wanted.

“bro. i don’t give a fuck about none of that.” her voice was a slight mumble. her tone easy, dismissive. she didn’t care who liana was seeing. if anything, the idea of a challenge made this more fun. “she can have my cake and eat it, too.”

more laughs, because paige truly is just ridiculous. then nika, ever the one to call out paige’s chaos, jumped in. “okay, messy boots. do you even have time for a girlfriend right now?”

“who said anything about a girlfriend?”

azzi raised an eyebrow from her seat, studying her best friend’s face. she couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something told her that this girl, liana, was consuming her thoughts way more than a regular amount.

paige adjusted her jersey, her mind already shifting back to the game. she needed to focus. there’d be time to deal with liana later. for now, it was all about basketball.

fortunately, the team lucked out and the game against maryland went down exactly as paige had expected—an easy dub, with the final score settling at 80 to 48. she wiped the sweat off her brow as the final buzzer sounded, her grin widening as the cheers of the crowd washed over her.

after the game, paige made her way to the sidelines where a cluster of fans waited, eager for autographs and pictures. she always made time for this part. it was grounding, in a way, reminding her why she did this in the first place. plus, it was fun. she smiled as she signed a few basketballs, shoes, and chatting easily with her supporters. she even spotted a little girl in a uconn jersey who blushed so hard she could barely speak when paige hugged her. she loved these moments. they made the grind worth it.

“paige, you did amazing today!” one fan gushed, shoving a poster her way.

the chatter almost always overlapped. “appreciate it,” paige replied, scribbling her signature. she tossed a few jokes, snapped some pictures, and soaked in the attention. but even with the crowd in front of her, her thoughts kept drifting to liana.

luckily, the girl had been out of sight during the game, so she was mostly out of mind. mostly. paige couldn’t help but wonder where she was—if she’d seen the game or if she’d already left.

as if on cue, paige caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from the edge of the court. her heart did a little flip that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, so she focused on finishing up an autograph, trying to play it cool. but as liana got closer, paige found herself fumbling with the sharpie, her fingers betraying her nerves. she cursed under her breath, quickly adjusting her grip and finishing it off.

finally turning to liana, she shot her the biggest smile, her hands playing with the cap. liana’s eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of paige in her jersey, her arms still tense from the game and too buff to stay cordial. the girl’s breath hitched, and there was a moment where paige swore she saw something in her gaze—something like admiration, maybe more. it made paige stand a little taller, a little more ego-fulfilled because of what she’d picked up on.

“well, look who decided to show up,” paige teased, twirling the sharpie between her fingers as if she hadn’t just fumbled it a second ago. “you come to support your student, huh? very admirable of you, teach.”

liana smiled, her eyes still lingering on paige’s arms purposefully before meeting her gaze. “gotta support my students, right? especially the ones who are a little… extra credit.”

paige chuckled, not being able to contain her shit-eating grin as she rocked back and forth on her feet. she tipped her head back, maintaining eye contact the way she always did. “extra credit? i’ll take that as a compliment.” paige patted her chest, more specifically, her heart.

“ you should,” liana shot back, her voice light, eyebrows raised and teeth showing in a way that made paige’s chest tighten. it almost felt too good.

for a moment, paige forgot about the crowd around her. it was just liana and her, standing there in the aftermath of a game that didn’t seem nearly as important as this moment. she peeped how liana’s gaze lingered on her jersey, her arms, and even the construction of her face.

“so, listen,” paige started, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. liana stepped closer, moving out of the way so someone could get past them. she couldn’t help but feel a little bit exposed under paige’s eyes, but she liked it. not only was she taller, but she looked down at her like she was prey. liana wondered if she looked at everyone like this while talking to them. “a few of us are heading to ted’s after this. you should come.”

liana hesitated, just like before, but paige could tell she was considering it as she stuttered. “i don’t know…”

paige didn’t let her finish. “bring her.”

liana’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. “what?”

“the girl you be with,” paige said, her voice steady and accent heavy. “she can come. jus’ want you there.”

liana’s expression softened. paige bueckers had been asking about her. if not that, someone had obviously known she’d cared enough to report back. liana continued to look at her, a mix of surprise and something else that paige couldn’t quite pin down. but whatever it was, it made her feel like she was winning. and paige liked to win.

“alright,” liana finally said, her lips curving into a small smile. “maybe i’ll stop by.”

“good,” paige replied, her grin returning full force. “i’ll see you there, then.”

ted’s was buzzing by the time paige and the team settled in. the usual crowd filled the bar—uconn students, locals. the team had claimed their spot, laughter spilling from their table as they recapped the game and teased each other over everything from missed shots to the post-game interviews. paige was in the middle of telling a story, spinning it out with her usual charm, but her eyes kept darting to the entrance. she was waiting, though she’d never admit it.

it had been about 30 minutes when she saw liana walk in. but she wasn’t alone. a girl followed close behind her, as expected, and paige took her time sizing her up, sucking in a breath.

naomi had brown dreadlocks that hung just past her shoulders, neat and well-kept. she wore a black tee that clung to her frame, paired with simple jeans and boots that looked worn in but sturdy. her presence was different from liana’s, who had changed into a mini skirt and a crop top—more solid, less playful. it made paige’s fingers itch to push at that calmness, to see what it would take to crack it.

as liana and naomi approached the table, paige kept her expression neutral, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed like she was just another teammate hanging out. no big deal. but anyone who knew her knew that she was anything but unbothered right now.

“hey, guys,” liana greeted, her voice warm as always as kk pulled her into an informal side hug, the rest of the team welcoming her normally, some a little more hyper with liquid courage. naomi stood beside her, offering a polite nod to the group.

paige took in the scene, her eyes flicking between the two. landing on liana, she let out a, “hey,” her tone casual. “nice to meet you.” that one was for naomi, paige’s head jerking up in an acknowledgment nod.

“same,” naomi replied, her voice smooth and even, her gaze briefly scanning paige before settling elsewhere.

introductions were quick, and soon enough, naomi found herself caught up in a conversation with aubrey about some mutual interest that paige couldn’t care less about. she watched as aubrey expertly engaged the girl, pulling her into the group with ease. aubrey had always been good at that. it was all too convenient, really, how aubrey was handling the distraction, and paige didn’t miss the cheeky smile aubrey sent her over naomi’s shoulder. it was a silent you’re welcome that paige shook her head at.

with naomi’s attention diverted, paige turned fully toward liana. the energy between them shifted slightly, becoming more charged now that there wasn’t anyone watching too closely. paige leaned in just a bit, enough to close the gap. “drinks?” the blonde suggested, chuckling at liana’s immediate nod as she slid in next to her, dragging the menu in front of her.

“you not a usual?” paige asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked over her shoulder and at the menu. there was a sense of curiosity beneath her casual tone, a question of why someone like liana wasn’t a regular in a place like ted’s.

“nah, i don’t go out often,” liana replied. she picked up the menu, perfectly manicured fingers following under the words and scanning it like she was genuinely considering her options, but paige could tell her mind was elsewhere.

paige made the connection easily—it explained why she hadn’t seen liana around before. she leaned back slightly, taking a moment to study her profile. something she’d grown accustomed to. “makes sense,” she said, her voice more thoughtful now. “probably why i haven’t seen you around.”

liana nodded, still looking at the menu. “yeah, i’m usually busy with work. tutoring and stuff.”

paige’s curiosity peaked, and she turned her gaze and body more fully on liana. “so, how do you know naomi?” she asked, her tone carefully casual, though the question held more weight than she let on.

liana hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her expression slipping into something a little more guarded. “we met through mutual friends. it’s… nothing serious,” she added quickly, her voice firm, as if she needed to make that point clear.

“right,” paige replied, her eyes lingering on liana, catching that hint of uncertainty beneath her words. was she lying? why’d she feel the need to?

liana met her blue hues, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “right,” she echoed, though there was a slight tremor in her voice. they both knew what she was trying to convince herself of, and it wasn’t quite working.

a couple more drinks in, liana and paige had loosened up a mile. they talked about where they were from, life on campus, their experiences obviously extremely different, and the blonde had even gotten around to asking her about her tattoo. the one behind her ear. it was some intricate thing her mom used to draw before she passed—right before her first year.

somehow, the deep conversation topics hadn’t made anything awkward or less easy to talk about. it was too easy. and in all honesty, quite scary.

“you looked really good on the court tonight,” liana admitted, her voice softer, more personal as she let her eyes roam over paige. definitely liquid courage, but there was denying they’d had the same amount, and there was no mistaking the interest behind those words, the way her gaze lingered a little too long on paige’s arms, her legs.

“liana!” paige groaned, sitting back in her chair as a sheepish smile took over her face. it was the kind of grin that she tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage, not when liana was looking at her like that.

“what?” she responded, her tone innocent enough and high-pitched through a giggle, though her curls bounced with each turn of her head, making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

“you can’t say stuff like that,” paige muttered, though her grin only widened, betraying her words. she leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her eyes locked on liana’s like a challenge.

“why not?” liana shot back, leaning against her elbow, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper. somehow, her eyes looked more doe under the dimly lit bar, more seducing you could say. “you don’t like compliments?”

paige’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice behind it—just the spark of a challenge she was more than willing to take on. “i like them just fine. but coming from you…”

she arched an eyebrow. “what about me?”

paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “you know exactly what i’m talking ‘bout.” she didn’t back down despite being ultimately defeated by liana’s boldness tonight. she could get used to it.

liana’s smile softened, the teasing edge still there, but there was something more genuine beneath it. “maybe i do,” she admitted quietly. she turned away, paige licking her lips as she studied the way her lips wrapped around her straw, and—yeah, that was it.

paige reached out, her fingers brushing against liana’s as she pulled her out of her seat, not bothering with excuses anymore. the need to be alone with her, to be away from naomi and her glances every couple minutes, was too strong to ignore. and it’s not like paige hadn’t thought about doing this since the moment she laid eyes on her, so…

liana was on her in an instant, pressing paige’s back against the single bathroom wall. her hands were everywhere—fingers threading into paige’s braids, tugging just enough to make her groan into her mouth. paige’s hands found liana’s hips before strolling down to her ass, lost in the sloppiness of the kiss and everything it brought—like another heartbeat. paige’s grip tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer, up into her arms and onto the sink.

liana was perched on the edge of the sink, legs pressed against the porcelain. it was a cold contrast, but the least of her worries. the kiss grew more desperate, more consuming, until paige pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, her eyes practically aching.

“you want this?” paige asked, her voice low, fingers already moving underneath liana’s skirt, seeking and teasing at the same time.

but just as her hand slipped higher, liana’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. “it’s wrong,” liana whined slightly, as if it was hard to physically not do this. her eyes searched paige’s, trying to find a reason to stop, but it was clear she was struggling.

paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her breath still coming in short, sharp bursts. “she your girlfriend?”

liana shook her head, the motion almost frantic, her curls bouncing with the movement. “no,” she whispered, the word barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

the blonde’s lips curved into a slow smile. “then there’s no home to wreck,” she murmured. the moment those words left her mouth, it was like their thoughts snapped back into place, sharper and more urgent than before.

liana didn’t protest again. instead, she pulled paige closer by the collar of her shirt, the movement making her gasp, tongue poking the inside of her cheek with a smirk. paige’s hand found its way back under liana’s skirt, fingers grazing over the fabric of her underwear, teasing her.. make her squirm.

“look at you,” paige taunted, watching liana’s reactions. she slid her fingers back and forth, deliberately avoiding where liana wanted her most. “so wet already…“

her breathing picked up, hands gripping the edge of the sink as she tried to ground herself, her body betraying her, though. “paige, please…” she whispered, the desperation clear as day.

paige’s reaction was more than just one of satisfaction. just earlier this week she’d been asking what her name was, and now she was moaning it. her fingers finally slipped beneath the soaked fabric, finding her heat. she traced the outline of her folds, slow and deliberate, making liana whimper with every touch. her face stayed pressed into the blonde’s shoulder, the smell of some expensive cologne and fresh laundry filling her nostrils. she wanted every part of her.

paige didn’t make her wait any longer. she slipped one finger inside, feeling the tight warmth as liana clenched around her. she added her middle finger, her movements slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch. “so tight for me… say that shit again.”

liana took a moment to process what exactly she wanted her to say, her mind not even on the right planet. catching on, she moaned out a soft, “paige…” and she groaned. she started to thrust, her fingers moving and stopping at the base where her silver rings were. they curled up at one point in a come hither motion, the sensation causing liana to screw her eyes shut, mouth open pornographically wide.

liana moaned loudly, her back arching as paige’s pace quickened, the sound of their bodies filling the small bathroom. her thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had liana gasping, her nails digging into her shoulders. “yes… right there… don’t—mm.. stop,” liana panted, her voice breaking with every thrust.

paige’s fingers worked relentlessly inside of her, her pace quickening as she felt liana tighten around her. she leaned in closer, her breath warm, and whispered in her ear, “i’m fuckin’ splitting you open, baby. you feel that?“

liana could only moan in response, her body shaking as paige’s thumb circled her clit with perfect precision, eliciting a different sound between each movement. she was right there, so close to coming, her mind completely lost in the moment. but just as she felt herself tipping over the edge, a sharp knock echoed through the bathroom door. “liana? you in there?” naomi’s voice cut through to the both of them, pulling liana back to reality with a harsh jolt. if that wasn’t a slap in the face, she didn’t know what was.

“fuck,” she mumbled, frustration clear in her tone as she clung to paige, trying to keep herself grounded in the moment, even as her mind screamed for her to get a grip.

paige’s own frustration mirrored liana’s, looking back at the door. she pulled her hand back with a quickness, watching liana struggle to catch her breath, deciding to help her down from the sink. she steadied her as if nothing had just happened between them, proceeding to follow up with a few lingering kisses on liana’s lips. intimate, sure—but blondie couldn’t resist.

“imma’ text you, alright?” her words were casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.

liana nodded, trying to get her thoughts in order, but she was still reeling from how quickly paige could shift from intense to gentle. it was throwing her off balance, and she didn’t like that. how does she do that? how does she make me want her even more everytime she says something? she knew she needed to get out of there before naomi started asking questions, but the entire situation didn’t feel real. they’d have some unfinished business to take care of by fate.

at the door, liana couldn’t help but fake a pout, a small attempt to regain some control, even if it was just a tease. but then paige stuck her fingers in her mouth mindlessly, licking them clean with wide eyes. liana’s mind went blank for a second, her first instinct being a gasp, heat flooding to her cheeks in a swarm as she swatted at paige’s arm. “you’re so—” she started, but paige’s low giggle cut her off, dodging the hits. god, she’s infuriating. infuriatingly cute.

“go on,” paige urged with that damn smirk, and liana knew she was right. she needed to walk out first, leave paige to follow behind like nothing had happened.

with one last look, liana stepped out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. as the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.. not look suspicious.

naomi was waiting just outside, looking at liana with a questioning expression. “you good?”

she forced a smile, nodding quickly. “yeah, just… needed a minute.”

[rowdyluv]

“He's been a bit of a jerk”

Summary: quinn suddenly ditches his childhood best friend on new years eve when they have spent every NYE together since they were 6. luke saves the night

Warnings: use of y/n and I think one or two uses of y/n/n, only brief mentions of quinn not actually active in fic but substantial to the plot, like has internal dialogue via italics, if I missed anything please let me know

Word Count: 1.8k

requested: yes - “luke pining after Quinn’s best friends and he finally gets the girl.”

Authors Note: edited as may 31, 2024 - if you read before May 31 the word count is now 800 more than it is was previously 🫣

part 2

On the frost-tipped grass, (Y/N) sat beneath a canopy of stars, her back propped against the rough bark of an old oak tree. A light dusting of snow had settled over the ground, transforming the world into a perfect winter wonderland. She shivered, not necessarily from the cold evening, but from the heart wrenching realization that tonight was supposed to go different. It was New Year's Eve, and every year since they were six, she and her childhood best friend, Quinn had celebrated together. But this year, he had up and ditched her last minute. Just like that. He gave her zero explanation and no apology. He had just vanished into the night with his middle brother, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. Which when he left for the NHL was pretty hard to top, yet he somehow managed to do it when he was only somewhere in the same town. The two barely get to see each other anymore as it is. He lives in Vancouver and she lives in Michigan. Quinn flies her out to a few games a season and of course she attends any Canucks vs Redwings games as well as Canucks vs Devils games. However the time the two have available with one another is so restricted at that time, she may as well be just another fan in the arena.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching through the frosted snow. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate was pressed into her hands. She looked up, her eyes falling on her best friend’s youngest brother, Luke, as he joined her. She briefly looked over his features, his cheeks were already flushed from the growing colder night, but the smile he gave her was warm and genuine.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he whispered as if they were amongst a huge crowd of people and not alone in an empty yard. His voice still highly audible over the silence of the night. "I came out here for a few reasons but one being because I…” Luke’s words ran out into the night. His right hand pulling off his beanie then he was slipping his fingers through his messy curls. A tell tale sign he was nervous about whatever he was about to say. “I wanted to apologize for what Quinn did to you tonight. He had no right to leave you like that. I don’t know what is going on with him and what would make him decide to leave behind the one person who has been consistent for him that isn’t family. The one person in his life that still sees him as Quinn and not as big shot Quinn..” Luke shoved his beanie back on and sighed. He had been looking up at the night sky watching the night clouds move uncovering the stars. “He has been a bit of a jerk here lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop him."

(Y/N) smiled weakly at the rambling boy next to her. Her gaze slowly drifting back up to the now clear sky and where the stars were twinkling like Christmas lights. "It's fine, really. I mean, it stung a lot at first, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged halfheartedly. "I'm just glad you were here tonight." The butterflies in Luke’s stomach flapped back to life and were going insane at her last statement. “Who knows Lukey. Maybe we can start our own tradition together this New Year’s.” Luke was watching her body languagefor any signs of a joke before speaking up. “I wouldn’t mind. It would teach Quinn to ditch someone as special as you.” (Y/N) slightly smiled, still looking up at the stars. “Special? No. Just me Luke.” (Y/N) argued, Luke didn’t want to have the silly argument back and forth. He knew just how special she is. Given the chance he would show her too. After all, a girl like her deserves to be treated, loved, and respected the way she treats, loves, and respects everyone else. (Y/N) was the girl has sought after ever since Luke stopped thinking he was supposed to marry his mom when he was older. Luke shook his head and groaned at her words. “One day (Y/N/N). Just you wait, one day you’ll know just how special you truly are.” He tells her before they fell into another comfortable silent state. His words confidently spilled out. (Y/N) turned her head opposite from Luke so he couldn’t see the true smile she was wearing across her face because of him. She also hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat as a result of his words.

The silence stretched between them, as she snuggled further into the blanket, (y/n) suddenly became aware that Luke was only wearing a thin jacket as he shivered. She glanced over at him, her eyes meeting his. "Here," she said, pulling the blanket off from around her shoulders. "You can have this. It's getting kind of cold out here." Luke hesitated for a moment, debating on offering to share the blanket. "No, really. It's fine. I'm warm enough." She shot him a glare. “Luke Warren Hughes. I just saw you shiver.” Her tone, at best, was barely strict. He held eye contact waiting for her to continue, he could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “If you won’t take it for yourself, we will share it.” She says wrapping it around him and snuggling into his side. Luke was trying his best to calm the butterflies and his racing heart. While also fighting the mental battle on if he should shoot his shot at midnight.

(Y/N) is the girl I have wanted for years now. She is right here. Cuddling into my side, a couple moves and I could easily be her new year’s kiss. If she hates it? I just play it off as a friendly new year’s kiss. Her and Quinn have been each other’s midnight kiss before, I can play it off as if I’m filling his shoes if she questions me and she’s angry. I can do this. I can do this. I think I can do this?

As midnight was quickly approaching the air was thick with anticipation between the both of them and more people were gathering outside.

The countdowns echoed throughout the night, each one louder than the last.

Fireworks lit up the sky, casting a multitude of colors over everyone. The fireworks also casting iridescent colors across the blanket of snow on the ground. Making a beautiful picturesque scene.

Luke decided it was definitely now or never. He may not have done it 12am but right now under the colorful display of the many fireworks was perfect. He smiled down at (Y/N), feeling a warmth spread through his chest, for the first time the butterflies in his stomach calmed. He leaned in, his breath fanning her cheek. "Happy New Year, (Y/n)." She felt his lips brush against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. That is when he froze up. Her reaction to his lips barely touching her sent his heart racing. He was scared she was going to send him flying into the snow. Her best friend’s baby brother’s lips just touched her. But she didn’t move. She was waiting? Luke quickly finished his well wishes to her before she snapped out of it, "I hope this year brings you everything you wish for." Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled back, their gazes locked.

“Do it Luke. Her eyes are basically screaming, begging for you to.” why do you have to be in my head now jack dear god please shut up.

In a seconds time he was leaning back in, his left hand making its way softly to the back of her head. His fingers interlacing in her hair. (Y/N)’s breaths were slow and deep awaiting Luke’s next move. “Tell me if this isn’t something you want.” Luke swallows down the anxiety he was feeling. Mentally silencing the jack he hears in his head telling him to go for it. “Because once I do this once.. I’m going to want to do this again and again. Everyday for the next foreseeable future.” Luke’s voice was trembling in want, desire, need. All of his feelings rushing to the forefront of his mind. “Shut up and kiss me Luke.” (Y/N) sighed grasping his face pulling him to her.

As their lips touched, the grand finale of the fireworks show was set off. The energy of the grand finale matching the energy sparking off the two of them. Luke and (y/n)’s kiss was hot enough to melt the snow underneath them. The way their mouths moved in perfect harmony. The small nips Luke made against her bottom lip as he pulled away. It left them both wanting more, needing more.

“Remind me to thank my brother for being an ass.” Luke mumbles against her lips before getting lost in another languid kiss. “Lukey let’s go home. It’s the new year, I’m cold and I also want to thank Quinn, because now I know who the better kisser is...well I’ve not kissed Jack.” She pauses and makes a playful gagging noise. “And because it finally got you to make a move.” Luke’s face went more red than it already was where it was tinged from the cold. “That..what?” He was baffled by her admittance . “I had my assumptions. I’m just happy I wasn’t wrong. Now let’s goooo. I wanna go get in bed and get warm.” (Y/N) sent a wink his way.

She was hinting towards cuddling. But with how fast Luke was grabbing up the blankets that they had been sitting on and were wrapped up in, before grabbing her hand and heading to the car…She is pretty sure his mind went a different direction.

“Quinn now owes me $10, he said you didn’t like me.” (Y/N) says once they were in the car and headed down the road. “You two had a bet on if I had a crush on you or not?” Luke laughed while asking. “No we had a bet on if you even liked me as a person. Because you avoided me. He’s going to be so shocked to know that you like-like me.” She clarifies with a giggle when she says ‘like-like’. Luke rolls his eyes at the thought of his older brother being naive enough to believe he didn’t like his best friend. “So back to what you said earlier tonight…Same thing and same place next new year’s?” Luke asks her. She nods with a smile. “New tradition, with you. Starting this year.” (Y/N) confirms with a nod. “Only maybe we hang out inside until right before midnight.” She adds grabbing for Luke’s hand to wrap both of her freezing ones around. The two sat in a comfortable silence stealing quick glances, with smiles plastered across their faces, and glimmers in their eyes the rest of the way to the Hughes home.

[barcaatthemoon]

game time || jill roord x reader ||

jill cockwarms you while she finished playing a game.

smut, 18+, minors dni.

"jill," you whined for what felt like the tenth time in half as many minutes. jill was absolutely engrossed in her game, just like she had been all day. she had let you sleep after picking you up from the airport, which was when she began playing this game. you had hoped that after you woke up, jill would have switched her attention to you, but that wasn't the case.

"i am so close to being done, just be patient," jill told you. she had been saying that for the past hour or so. you were on the verge of getting up and going to watch something in the bedroom by yourself, but you wanted so badly to be with jill.

"jill, please put the controller down for a little while. i miss you so much, and i just want to spend time with you," you told her. jill sighed as she paused her game momentarily. you were pouting at her when she looked at you in a way that told jill everything she needed to hear.

"i'll be back." jill stood from the couch and left you there by yourself. true to her word, jill came back a couple minutes later. immediately, your attention was taken by the fake cock jutting out from between jill's legs. the pale blue almost blended in with jill's manchester city sweatpants, but you never would have been able to miss the toy. "sit on it for me, and be still. every time that you move or disturb me, you'll have to stay for longer."

your face went pale as you thought about her terms. you had never been great at being still, but maybe with jill inside of you, it'd be different. gingerly, you stood up from the couch and undressed yourself. jill made you stand in front of her while her fingers teased your cunt to make sure that it was ready to take her strap.

"you're so tight baby, this is going to feel so good." jill pulled her hand back to taste your arousal. you bit your lip as her hand returned to your cunt, this time with one single digit inside of you. jill fucked you slowly, only adding another finger when she felt like the first slipped out without enough resistance.

"jill, kiss me, please," you begged. jill's tongue flicked out to lick her lips. the action only made you want her even more as memories of messy makeout sessions flooded your mind. you thought about the countless nights that the two of you had spent with jill's knee pressing against your core as she kissed you again and again.

"come here baby," jill ordered gently as she moved her hand away again. you let yourself be guided down onto her strap, now facing her as you sat in her lap. you sank down each inch of jill's cock slowly, only moving with her hands as she guided you. "now, i need you to keep still for me. tell me now if you don't think you can do that."

"how long until you finish your game?" you asked her.

"shouldn't be too long. this is the last mission, and if it isn't, i'll stop when i finish it," jill promised you. you nodded and sank the final little bit onto her cock. jill gave you a couple of quick kisses before she turned back to her game. your body rested against's jill's, and for the first few moments, it was easy enough to pretend that you were just cuddling.

jill stayed fairly still until she began to hit hitches in her game. she shifted around in her seat, each time jostling the dildo inside of you. you bit back your moans until you physically couldn't, even though you were afraid of distracting jill even further.

the fact that she wasn't paying to you only made you feel more turned on. jill seemed to completely disregard you sitting on top of her. you and jill were no stranger to little games like this, but it had never quite felt like this. you were a bit more turned on than normal, and it had definitely been a lot longer than what you were used to since jill had touched you last.

"jill," you let out a small whine. you were starting to feel really full in a way that you weren't used to. it was like she was right where you needed her to be, but still so far away. your body was screaming for you to move, but you knew that jill had no issues with making you sit here for hours without any sort of relief. "i don't know how much more i can take of this."

"you're doing so well. i'm almost finished," jill told you. it was subtle, but you could feel the rocking of her hips as she sat playing her game. jill had always been good at knowing exactly what you wanted when you didn't know how to ask for it.

jill's thumb rubbed against your thigh, a simple grounding method that she had used before when this sort of thing became too much for you. jill knew that you were trying hard for her, that none of this was exactly what you had wanted when you landed. jill felt a little bit of guilt tug at her, so she set her controller down on the coffee table.

"can i move you?" jill asked. you nodded, and almost instantly, jill flipped both of you so that you were pinned beneath her on the couch. "do you want me to go fast or slow?"

"slow," you answered. jill nodded and began to slowly thrust her hips in and out of you. she moved all of the way out of you and bottomed out inside of you with each thrust. jill cradled your face in her hands and pressed soft kisses to your lips in between the whisperings of sweet nothings.

"i love you so much," jill told you. you tried to say it back, but all of your words felt like they just slurred together. jill had barely been doing anything to you, and she already had you feeling cock drunk. you were needy and desperate, and jill knew that she move a bit faster to get you through this.

she was still as gentle as ever as she sped up her thrusts. jill leaned down, and you felt like you were in a bubble. all that you could focus on was jill as she pressed kisses to whatever bit of skin that she could get her mouth on. the slight distraction was welcome, and just what you needed to ground yourself long enough to really chase after your release.

"come here baby," you muttered as you pulled jill's head against your chest. she happily laid on the couch with you, neither of you making any attempts to move somewhere more comfortable even as your bodies began to ache. "i missed you."

"tomorrow is all for you. anything that you want, just the two of us," jill promised. you hummed happily at the thought of that. you weren't sure how long you'd be in manchester for before you got called in for pre-season practice and wanted to spend the most amount of time with jill before then that you could.

[uzurakis]

heyy !! i was looking at your profile which is amazing btw and saw someone desperate like me for some kaiser content. maybe smth involving reader wearing his jersey and well… yk.. :33

“aah, someone’s been a thief,” kaiser teases, eyeing the jersey that fits snugly on you. the way the fabric drapes over your shoulders, slightly too big yet perfectly fitting; it’s like you’re carrying a piece of him with you, and it fills him with a sense of pride. “i was wondering where that went.”

during a break from practice, your boyfriend spots you and jogs over, his eyes widening as he notices the familiar jersey. a nasty smile forms on his lips as he approaches, clearly intrigued.

playing pretend, you feign innocence, glancing down at the jersey. “oh, this? i thought it was mine. it fits me perfectly, don’t you think?”

it does, it looks perfect on you. oh how much kaiser wants to say that. but no, there’s still one thing he needs to hold high; a man’s ego.

so, kaiser narrows his eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “nice try, but we both know that’s my jersey. or maybe you happen to be one of my fangirls that shop their favorite—“

“oh, shut up,” that cocky attitude of his is not getting anywhere under your watch. then you shrug, giving him a cheeky grin. “well, finders keepers. maybe you should have kept a better eye on your stuff.”

“ouch, you’re saying i’m messy person? that hurts, mein liebling,” he chuckles, one mirthless laugh falling in your ears. “why don’t you wear it tomorrow for the match?” kaiser suggests playfully. “that way, everyone knows you’re mine.”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, i don’t know. there will be a lot of fans wearing jerseys with your name on them. even you could mistake me as one of your crazy fangirls. yuck.”

kaiser’s smirk fades, replaced by a mock pout. “but none of them are you,” he says, tone slightly possessive. “it’s different when you wear it. like, it’s special.”

still playing along, you raise an eyebrow. “oh, so now it’s special because i’m wearing it? maybe it’s just a really good jersey.”

he laughs at your remarks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “mein liebling, seriously, seeing you in my jersey makes me feel… proud..?”

“because when you wear it, it’s a statement. it says you belong to me. and i like that.”

“i like what’s mine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “well, maybe i’ll consider it,” you reply, trying to keep your cool. “maybe though.”

his grins broadens, clearly pleased with your response. “good girl. now, how about a kiss for luck?”

you laugh, “only because michael asked so nicely.” leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips, you continue, “anything else you want, your highness?”

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “you better be in the front row tomorrow. front and center,” he murmurs against your lips. “i play better when i know you’re watching.”

you smile, but what if you still want to mess with him? “huuh, but i also haven’t said i’ll watch your—“

“don’t fucking care, you will watch me,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. “now, go cheer me on. i’ve got a game to win.”

n. i’m taking this way babes. we can also talk abt it if u wanna take it that way *winks aggressively* jus hmu as always <3 mwah ty for trusting me wit every kaiser piece here ahhsakksjs. also! tagging another kaiser lover @6gumi mwaaah xo

@uzurakis

[crguang]

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

part two

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.